Honobia - Chapter 3

We'd have to worry about camping arrangements later. I had to literally shake my head to get the images of the past ten minutes out of my mind's eye. The slick roads and fog were where I needed to focus my attention. There would be plenty of time to try to grasp what just happened after we made our way down from the mountain.

As we headed south toward Idabel, with Jared and Clay following behind us, Cody and I sat silently for a few miles. Cody finally broke the silence as he grinned and said cheerfully, "We're going to a Bigfoot meeting!"

As we drove the hour and a half down to Idabel, Cody and I replayed every moment, every nuance of what the ladies told us. I wondered what Clay and Jared were thinking as we made our way to the separation point of Idabel. We couldn't help but laugh about what happened and hoped that Jared and Clay really did understand that this was just not something we could pass up.

After we parted ways, Cody and I discussed how we would kill time. We still had a good five or six hours until our meeting. Our meeting. We decided that we'd set out to see all sorts of things in southeastern Oklahoma, so we'd just see more before we headed back north.

About 15 minutes west of Idabel was the Wheelock Mission Church: the oldest church in Oklahoma. Wheelock Mission was also an academy for American Indian girls. While we were there, it began to rain again. Being in this place, with the cold rain didn't dampen our spirits. It didn't even wash away what was in the back of both our minds. I kind of felt sorry for Wheelock. I felt sorry that I wasn't enjoying it the way I would have if I weren't so eager and scared at the same time to go back to Honobia later that night. I felt sorry for Wheelock that it wasn't enough for me. I realized it was probably irrational to feel sorry for a place: it has no feelings. But really, the whole of the day seemed irrational, so I decided that I didn't really care. Feeling sorry for an inanimate object seemed to be the least of things that others would deem me crazy for thinking or doing today.

The only thing that seemed to capture my attention was when we discovered the old cemetery beside the old church at Wheelock. The gates to drive into the cemetery were locked, but the fence was low. Those that know me know I fretted for several minutes, weighing the pros and cons of jumping the fence. By the time I made my move, Cody was already on the other side, several feet away, reading the headstones that were still legible after all the years.

Being there, in the midst of tombstones well over a hundred years old, gave me the same feeling as when I stand at the edge of the ocean. Small. Insignificant and important all in the same moment. I wondered what adventures some of these people had. I wondered what they'd think about us going to a Bigfoot meeting.

By the time Cody and I hopped back over the fence to get in the car, the week of camping, the day's events, the rain, the fog, the weight of what was to come became palpable. Cody and I were determined to continue to find adventure, right up to the 7 p.m. meeting, even though we were both growing weary, neither wanting to admit it.

We decided that there'd be all kinds of stuff to do near Broken Bow. At the least we could go to Beaver's Bend State Park. On the way, we saw a sign that directed us to a wildlife refuge to the east of Highway 3. The right hand turn we took ended up being more than just a turn off the road. It was a turn in our friendship. I can honestly say that no friendship is stronger than after you have a fight and come out on the other side laughing. Like forging iron, really.

What's funny in hindsight is that our fight wasn't over someone making a wrong turn, or over someone thinking they were right and the other "knowing" they're really wrong. As we drove and drove and drove, unable to find the wildlife refuge or another sign to help us find our way, the tension grew in the car. Not from our inability to find where we were going, but over someone taking the lead! I wanted to know what Cody thought we should do. He wanted me to be a woman about it and make a decision!

Somehow we ended up on the muddiest roads I've ever seen. Clay mud. Thick mud. The kind that can get a little Saturn car stuck quickly. The worse the roads became, the less we spoke to each other. AGH!

In silence we drove. The only sound from me was asking to check his side to make sure I wouldn't get stuck. The only sound from him alerting me to mud I may not have seen. Which road should I take? He wouldn't say. Should I turn here? He wouldn't say. He wasn't doing it to be stubborn (well, a little maybe). He was convinced that I was capable of making my own decisions and could get us out of there. In hindsight, he was right, but in that car, on those roads, in the rain, I was ticked!

We finally made it back to Highway 3. We both rode in silence still. He took a nap and I fumed. We still had a good hour to drive to make it back to Honobia and it was about 5:30 now.

As I drove toward Honobia, I felt as if two entities were warring. One drawing us in toward the small community center in the middle of the clearing, the other begging me not to go. I still had the childish notion that were about to be sacrificed to sasquatch. An offering from the community so he'd leave their loved ones alone. Besides that, I wanted to cry! We're about to have the best story ever and we weren't even speaking to each other.

As I turned off of Highway 3 onto 144, with darkness encroaching, I was getting even more melancholy with the fog and the drizzle: everything seemed eery. Cody seemed to be awake then, but still silence. Then as quickly as we'd gotten angry with each other, it passed, as though it hadn't happened at all when Cody said, "This is creepy!" Haha. Indeed.

Only then were we able to laugh at what we were doing. BAH hahahah! We laughed so hard I cried. Maybe it was tears for the stress, the sadness at our fight and now the hilarity of our situation. We were driving BACK to Honobia. For a meeting. A Bigfoot meeting! It was only then that I confided to Cody my fears about being sacrificed to the beast. We both laughed even harder at that thought.

With each mile that we grew closer to the meeting place, my heart raced faster, giddy with excitement of the unknown. The left hand turn back down the only paved road in Honobia was almost more than I could bear! The sun had long since set and the only light was from the two lone street lights near the old schoolhouse that served as the community center. There were a few cars here already.

We decided that even if we didn't believe Bigfoot existed, why chance it? We looked at each other and reiterated our promise from earlier: no camping in Honobia.