Farming in the Texas panhandle

We left Tucumcari this morning and headed north east on the 54. Winston had an under-inflated ego (tyre) so we called into a truck mechanic who got the whole team to work on the wheels - for free. I guess if we'd paid, they might have put the hub caps back on firmly and Winston would still be intact. Somewhere between there and here is a shiny silver plastic "alloy" rim. Never mind.

The 54 is an unusual trail for holiday makers to take, as it heads across into Texas, first stop Dalhart, which is not a tourist destination by any stretch of the imagination. Look it up on Google Maps (make sure to look at it in satellite view) and marvel at the strange landscape from above. All farming (growing plants, not animals - that would be ranching) is done in circles for irrigation and although the circles may look small on the map, believe us - they are huge.

After a quick root beer in town, we met up with Mark's family friend Bruce, who is working as a driver for a contracting company. The locals at the diner had taken great interest in us, to the point they whipped around the room asking if anyone knew Bruce (response: "probably"). We met at the feed lot which Bruce was delivering silage to. A feed lot is a term for a very highly concentrated ranch - over 70,000 cattle live in at the one we were at! Cattle are raised in pens and feed on silage, delivered to troughs next to the pens by truck. We went out for a ride in Bruce's rig, collecting silage from a nearby farm and delivering back to the silage pit. A very interesting experience - it's a massive, and very slick, operation.

The land is incredibly flat (not a hill in sight) and is about 4000ft above sea level. Water for irrigation is pumped from an underground lake some 600ft beneath the ground. It's very different to farming in NZ - more of a meat factory than a farm.

We had been looking forward to Amarillo for some time - talking about the delicious BBQ feast that we'd find. Mouths watering we pulled into Henk's Bar-B-Que and ordered meat. I asked Henk what was good - "chopped beef" apparently. The recommendation was clearly based on availability rather than taste, as it came straight off the chopping board behind him. Served up with 2 ribs, a scoop of potato, one of coleslaw and a bowl of dirty looking beans, it was hands down the most disgusting thing I've seen on a plate. Of course we ate it (Charlotte only managed a rib, and a bit of potato and 'slaw), I'm not proud. Sven, if you're reading, I say this with you in mind.

We continued on to Shamrock, not far from the Oklahoma state line, and pulled into the RV park around 8. The owner here has been on the land "forever" - with 4 generations on the farm. He's been right friendly, giving us a taste of local buttermilk and telling us about the Oklahoma state bird, the Scissortailed Flycatcher.