Along what I call the ‘northern route’ of State Highway 114, it’s about 340 miles from Dallas to Lubbock; a trip that will take you from 450 feet1 above sea level, to more than 3,200 feet;2 3 from a “humid sub-tropical” climate,4 with more than 38 inches of rainfall annually, to a different climate altogether–“semi-arid”5 with less than half that amount of rain;6 from the relatively calm and sheltered Trinity river valley, to the windswept High Plains.

These are truly significant differences, affecting every aspect of life in these two places, separated only by a few hours’ drive. And yet during that drive from one to the other, the transition unfolds rather subtly, then passes silently from the windshield to the rear-view mirror, as we slice though in air-conditioned comfort. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I done paid my dues growing up, driving and riding in trucks and cars that were, in the truest sense of these words: “air conditioned.”

But no need to worry, weary traveler, because you can keep your windows up, the A/C blastin’, and the pedal to the metal (like the good Texan you are, either real or imagined) and still (!), with the info that I’m about to provide, you can have a slightly greater understanding of, and dare I say appreciation for, the landscapes that unfold before you, and for the deep map–the map that captures at once the past, present and envisioned future of this place–that map that you drive through, on the way from Dallas to Lubbock.

From high-rise to high plains, where to focus?

A question arises then: Where, along this 300+ mile journey, are the stretches of land and/or highway that best demonstrate these transitions most vividly–geologically, topographically, historically, culturally or otherwise? Where to focus?

The possibilities are endless, because the number of ‘lenses’ through which any territory can be viewed and interpreted, are endless as well. But alas, my time and talent are limited, and choices must be made, so I will focus on just two, at least for now.

The first of these is the stretch of Highway 114, from Jacksboro to Seymour, which I’ll elaborate on below. This takes us from the Western Cross Timbers region, through Olney and Megargel, where Mr. Clifton Key is from, across the ‘Texas Red Beds’, and into the Rolling Plains of Seymour.

A second stretch, which picks up where the first left off, and which I will cover in a future installment, is Dickens to Crosbyton, two towns which lie, respectively at 1) the base of, and 2) atop, the massive and magnificent Caprock Escarpment–the same one you see on the home page of this site. The distance that separates them is only about 24 miles. The elevation climb, at 500 feet, is modest as well, although it’s the single largest step-up in the entire route from Dallas to Lubbock.

But the geological age that separates these two regions–the older Rolling Plains of Dickens and Seymour below, and the younger High Plains of Crosbyton and Lubbock above, is a staggering 240 million years. <–Not a typo.

You knew them crazy Texans drove fast, but I reckon you never understood just how fast. So if you’re looking for a road trip that allows you to cover 24 miles, and 240 million years, in 20 minutes, all with the A/C blastin’ then y’all come7.

Jacksboro to Seymour

Coming Soon!

  1. USGS ↩︎
  2. About Lubbock, published by Texas Tech University ↩︎
  3. Do you think the good people of Lubbock have ever considered that they can, if they wish ‘look down on the people of Dallas’? Have the good people of Dallas have ever considered that they really do ‘look up to’ the people of Lubbock? Asking for a friend. ↩︎
  4. These are the Köppen classifications. More here. ↩︎
  5. And a source locale, of course, along with Phoenix, Bakersfield and other places, for one of the most pervasive lies ever told: “Yeah, but it’s a dry heat.” ↩︎
  6. NOAA National Centers for Environmental Information (NCEI). “U.S. Climate Normals, 1991-2020.” Released May 2021. ↩︎
  7. The original, from 1953, by Arlie Duff, of Jack’s Branch, Texas ↩︎