Lubbock is a long way from anywhere, and even in this West Texas town with a population of just over a quarter-million, because of its remoteness it still somehow feels uncrowded, maybe a little lonesome. Its closest neighbors of any size are a two- to three-hour drive away, give or take. Amarillo is to the north, Midland and Odessa to the south, Abilene's to the southeast, and Roswell, over the state line in New Mexico, lies to the west. So, then, at the same time, it's smack in the middle of nowhere and everywhere.
There's not much between those cities except the dusty prairies and grasslands of the Great Plains, where the buffalo used to roam and where still the deer and the antelope play alongside prairie dogs, jackrabbits, and even rattlesnakes.
But solitude is the soul of the Great Plains of West Texas, a way of life, and no one in Lubbock, sort of the epicenter of the Great Plains subset of the South Plains, seems to mind that the town stands alone. Long, flat roads lead to longer stretches of open, flat plains that eroded from the Rocky Mountains eternities ago. Lubbock, with its elevation reaching to some 3,400 feet, sits high atop caprock tableland that tapers slowly to the southeast toward Fort Worth and Dallas.
This is Texas east of the Pecos, a land of caprock, cowpokes and unending fields of cotton, a crop that loves the merciless sun of its semiarid climate. It's that combination of sun, wind and probably not quite enough rain that makes the region ideal for not only cotton, but also growing grapes, as in Texas wine grapes, as in Texas wine, as in mighty fine Texas wine.
With a mere three full days in Lubbock to spend time with extended family and see the sites, my husband and I visited several wineries and ate at some killer restaurants, diners and coffee shops. And while Lubbock may well be off the beaten path, it doesn't scrimp on things to do.
