This past weekend, our whole family (myself, Susan, Mason and Morgan) along with my Mom, her husband Jack, my sister Linda and her two-month-old son Griffin traveled to the southeastern corner of Oklahoma to visit my mom’s family. The eight of us all stayed in a lakeside cabin in Clayton, OK (Population: 725), which probably seems like a sprawling metropolis to our relatives who live just down the road in Snow, Oklahoma (Population: 223).

When the most exciting landmark on your road trip is the maximum-security prison in McAlester, Oklahoma (dubbed “Big Mac”), you know you’re up for an exciting drive. During the four-hour drive we worked our way through every road trip cliché in the book, from kids touching each other to people needing to go to the bathroom miles just minutes after pulling away from a gas station. After successfully navigating our way through almost four hours of nothingness, we finally arrived at Clayton Lake.

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The cabin was super nice. With a fridge, oven, stove, microwave, fireplace, gas grill, air conditioner, two bedrooms, etc, the experience can hardly be described as “roughing it”. At $100 bucks a night the cabin was a steal. A large wooden deck surrounded the cabin on three sides, and the side of the cabin facing the lake had three sets of French doors, creating a terrific view of the surroundings. In case the scenery wasn’t enough to remind you that you were deep in the country, the constant beep from our cell phones desperately searching for a signal from a tower was.

After the vans were unpacked we decided to take a trip down to my Uncle Kenny’s place, about ten miles from our cabin. After shooting the bull with he and my Aunt Barbara, Kenny decided he wanted to show Mason “his backyard” — approximately 80 acres of wilderness. Mom and Jack piled into the back of Kenny’s 4×4 Blazer while I got shotgun and Mason sat on the center console. Kenny dropped the Blazer into four-wheel low, and off we went, following Kenny’s hounds off into the forest.

This is a picture of what Kenny refers to as “the good road”, and by “good road” he means “there’s a dirt path to follow”. He then decided the road was good enough for Mason to drive — although we quickly learned that, in moments of crisis, that Mason confuses things like “left” and “right”. Still, the past couple of years of videogame training have done him well and he was able to (mostly) steer between trees.

As we got to the pasture we were surrounded by horses who had decided we had brought lunch. Unfortunately we hadn’t. That didn’t stop the horses from sniffing us all down, one by one.

For a minute or two I couldn’t even get out of the car, as this particular horse had his head halfway in my window. When I finally got out he sniffed around some more.

Mason, atop Kenny’s shoulders and with his Superman cape blowing in the breeze, loved every minute of it.

Mom, on the other hand, couldn’t even get out of the car.

Soon it was time to pile back into the Blazer. In four-wheel low there weren’t many places the thing couldn’t go. We made our way across streams, over fallen trees and through thick branches (which would smack anyone who didn’t lean in or away from the windows).

A shot of my uncle’s pond. Had we had more time, this would have been our fishing hole for the day, but Linda, Susan and their respective babies were back at the house. Maybe next trip.

Coming back through the pasture, the horses had formed a road block. Once we squeezed through it, the horses began chasing us. There’s no way they were letting us through there without a snack!

After our off-road adventure, we headed back down to the cabin for a nap, followed by a hot-dog cookout. Kenny and Barbara came down, along with my cousin David and my Grandpa Autry.

Morgan, awaiting her hot dog.

Linda and Griffin.

Mason, self-portrait.

Jack cooking hot dogs. Picture by Mason.

After hot dogs were downed, Kenny started a fire in the fire pit …

… while Mom, Grandpa, David and Kenny’s pal looked on …

… and Mason added bits of bark.

Probably my favorite part of the afternoon was when “the women-folk” (ha!) were all outside, leaving me, my Uncle Kenny, my Grandpa Autry, my cousin David and Jack all sitting around the kitchen table inside the cabin. Occasionally one of them would mention seeing a fish or a snake out on the lake and then everyone would turn, look, and nod in agreement. I’d nod too, of course not seeing a dang thing (except water). Conversation drifted from talking about Patrick (the guy who’s blind in one eye and missing the other) who still drives around town but uses his white cane once he gets to where he’s going, to the bear that was recently killed on Main Street in Clayton. A little later, I stood between my cousin and my grandpa as they discussed which brands of chewing tobacco they preferred. For a few minutes, I felt like I was an honorary country boy.

Then when everyone left I systematically checked myself for ticks, then checked under the beds for scorpions and tarantulas, and finally, checked the back deck one last time for that damn snake. All I found was a lizard.

Lizards are okay. I can deal with lizards.

The next morning, we decided to have breakfast at some place in Clayton Lake. I don’t even think the place had a sign; if it did, it said “Food”. We had intended on calling Kenny and Barbara and Grandpa and inviting them, but we were without a working cell phone among us. Kenny came out to see us off, spotted the cars and dropped in to see us. Being Mother’s Day and all, I decided to pick up the tab. For seven big breakfasts plus drinks, the ticket was thirty-something bucks. Only in rural Oklahoma!

On the way out of town, we grabbed a picture of this sign, of which we saw at least three of in Clayton (that’s one for every couple hundred people).

With bellies full and goodbyes said, we hopped back on the two-lane Interstate that heads back north out of the sticks and toward civilization, the land of cell phone signals, cable television and vehicles other than pickups. I’m sure the people who lives down there want to live in the city as much as I want to live down there … but it sure is nice to unplug every now and then and get away.