Monday, September 5, 2022 – Today is Labor Day and most of the weekend revelers have left the Shady Oaks Campground & RV Park [near Harrison]. I myself left precisely at 11:00 a.m., the check-out time. Since Rt. 7 was nearby, I was on that road within minutes and driving south on another of Arkansas’s beautiful scenic byways.
Traversing through the Boston Mountains and the Ozarks National Forest, this two-lane road is curvy and steep in places, both going uphill and downhill. Tall green trees along the road gave me a vivid image of truly beautiful fall colors. I stopped at an overlook but the pictures I took really don’t do justice. It would have been better, I thought, if the sun had been behind me.
Just past I-40 I got on the road that leads to the Lake Dardanelle
State Park [in Russellville] and stopped at the Visitor’s Center to register
for the site that I had reserved last night for today and tomorrow. Walking
around and looking at the exhibits, I noticed a family taking turns trying to
pick up a turtle that was paddling around in its watery enclosure. A sign (much
to my relief) said to pick it up and gently put it back. The mother spoke to me
and then her eyes widened a bit when I pointed to my ears and shook my head.
She gestured towards her daughter (seven years old I later learned) and showed
me her two hearing aids. She then indicated her older son, maybe 18 or 19, and
said he was deaf, too. No, she answered, they don’t know sign language, and we
had a little discussion about that – me, as a Deaf person nearly all my life,
in my “advocacy” mode and she in her “I know what’s best for my deaf kids”
mode. I signed to the little girl, mouthing my words as I try to do for oral
deaf people, and she kept looking to her mother for interpretation. The older
brother did, too. I showed the girl the signs for turtle, fish, boy, girl, and
mother. She, interestingly enough, didn’t even copy my signs, and her mother
didn’t object to this teaching moment either. The exchange was less than 10
minutes – not very long, but if I’m the first ASL-using Deaf adult that family,
and especially the little girl, has ever met I hope they will long remember
this chance encounter.
Scenic Overlook, along Rt. 7.
About an hour after I set up the camper, I sat outside. Not for long, though, because it started to rain, just a light drizzle. Soon as the rain let up, I took a walk to check out the lake. It’s really close but I can’t see it because, being situated in a woodsy area, a lot of trees are blocking my sightline to the lake. It was a nice walk and I hung around to watch the sunset. That’s my favorite – sunsets over water – and tonight’s sunset was gorgeous! My pictures will attest to that!
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| Gotta throw me in the mix! |
Tuesday, September 6, 2022 – First order of business this morning…dump the tanks! I haven’t dumped the black and grey tanks yet and was planning to do that at the previous RV Park. When I pulled in to my long pull-through reserved site [last Friday], I saw that it was going to be rather tricky to dump the tanks there. For one thing, the sewer was not anywhere close to the shore power pedestal. Which, in and of itself, is not necessarily a bad idea but, being that my truck camper is only 25’ long, I couldn’t maneuver my truck to a level spot where I could reach both the pedestal with my power cord AND the sewer with the sewage hose. And, secondly, the ground where the sewer was located was about a foot higher than my site itself. Dumping the tanks works most effectively when you have the magic of gravity in your favor.
Taking my time and remembering the steps (and the Sani-Flush, too) the tanks were dumped within the hour. I then did some interior camper cleaning – so necessary even though you know you’re going to be bringing dirt, pieces of grass and leaves, and maybe a pebble or two, back inside the camper before the day is over.
After that, having made a decision last night, I walked to the Visitor’s Center to ask if I could stay here for a third night, leaving on Thursday instead of tomorrow morning. My current site, the ranger at the counter said, is reserved for another group tomorrow, but there’s another site I could move to today and stay there tomorrow. This new site, she said has a view of the lake. After we got that registration taken care, I went to another area in the Visitor’s Center to use their internet. Now knowing for sure that I’ll be departing on Thursday, I texted my sister, Evelyn, and enlisted her assistance to call a Harvest Hosts farm for me and inquire if I could stay overnight there on Thursday. Ev texted back Billy’s reply -- “You’re all set, arrive anytime.”
By way of explanation, I can secure Harvest Hosts overnight stays through my online membership account, but some Hosts prefer to be contacted via email or phone. Figuring that, because I had been able to exchange text messages quickly while at the state park, I’d have a better chance of reaching Billy through Ev instead of the Video Relay Service (VRS). That worked out well…thanks, Ev!
Walking back to my camper I stopped to look at my new site. Although it was empty the “reserved” notice on the post gave me pause. It had a name on it (not mine) and the dates 9/5 – 9/9. I decided to stay where I was for now (I paid for it after all) and check the new site later to see how things looked. It’s possible that group cancelled their reservation and the notice on the post hadn’t been removed yet.
I spent the afternoon on the laptop, working on Blog #4. Just before 5:00 p.m., after verifying that my new site was still vacant, I secured the camper, closed the slide out, unplugged and stowed the power cord, moved my camper, and replaced that notice on the post with my new “reserved” placard. I reversed everything I had just done a few minutes ago and then sat outside with my drink and appreciating the new view. I love trees, so beautiful at my original site, but water tugs at me more, even if there’s a large marina just to my left.
Unfortunately, the family at the site next to me attached a hammock on two trees that are actually on my site and, ignoring “RV site boundary etiquette,” their girls hung around the hammock while I was there. They’re just steps away from my camper’s back door and that’s annoying, not to mention inconsiderate, impolite, thoughtless, crude…and a thesaurus of other adjectives.
I had a quiet evening, reading my book while it was still light outside. Tonight’s sunset wasn’t spectacular – I’m so glad I took those pictures of last night’s bright orange/red sunset.
My new site. According to the ranger at the Visitor's Center, that structure in the background is "Arkansas Nuclear One." When I asked what was spewing into the atmosphere, she said "steam."
Wednesday, September 7, 2022 – I woke up early, before the sun rose, and took a walk over to the campground section that’s closest to the lake. Wow, much better views of Lake Dardanelle over there! Walking along the shoreline, which is stacked with large rocks, I thought about the strategically placed signs inside and near the Visitor’s Center that describe the fish, turtles, birds, reptiles, and mammals that live here. As if on cue, a heron flew by. A few minutes later I spotted a small mammal scampering on the rocks. “Looks like a squirrel, but noooo, although there are squirrels here, that critter is NOT a squirrel.” I just stood there, rooted to my spot, watching the little thing scamper to within a yard from me. Stopping suddenly, the surprised look on its face indicated it didn’t even notice me until just that moment. Staring at each other for all of five seconds (give or take), that cute little thing scampered back to where it had come from. Um, short dark brown fur, small face, slender body, maybe a foot long, and sporting a long tail – methinks weasel. Will Google later. [Addendum: Yup, it’s a weasel.]
Sunrise clouds, as seen from the section closest to the lake. My camper is at the far right, obscured by a tent.
Back at the camper I updated both my [handwritten] journal and Blog #4 on MS Word. Following that, I turned my focus to my maps, and to the “Arkansas” research that I did last spring, to develop a tentative route plan for this point forward. Wow, there’s so much Arkansas has to offer and I have just three weeks left before I’ll need to turn westward back home.
Just before the sun set, I went to the campground “bathhouse” to take a shower. This state park has the best bathroom structure I’ve ever seen…and been in! Within this structure they have several spacious and clean toilet-sink-shower rooms that you can use privately. Just go in one that’s marked “vacant” – like on the airplanes – and that bathroom is all yours. The water was hot, the pressure strong, and I loved the skylight on the slanted ceiling!
Two of the girls “next door,” when I “bumped” into them, were removing the hammock from the trees on my site. I waved “hi” and they waved back. Dunno what prompted this removal but it’s good that they did.
Thursday, September 8, 2022 – I set my vibrating travel clock for 6:30 a.m. so as to give myself plenty of time to wake up, leave, and be on time for an 8:30 a.m. breakfast date in Russellville. Just as I made the right turn onto the road that would lead me to Stoby’s Restaurant, I saw, to my left, a brown jeep and I thought to myself – “I bet that’s them.” And it was – Pat Gordon and Betty Robinson. Meeting up at the parking lot we introduced ourselves, shook hands, and went inside the restaurant.
Pat and Betty, I should mention, are hearing and do not know sign language. They are friends of two other hearing non-signing women – Dot Drummond and Bonnie Congdon – whom I met in Iowa when I traveled there in 2019. Bonnie is Penny’s (my friend in Palm Desert) sister-in-law, and Penny had suggested back in 2019 that I should meet them. That I did, and now, Dot and Bonnie in turn suggested that I meet Pat and Betty since they live in Arkansas and I’m now traveling around this state. We connected via text and were able to work out this breakfast get-together.
These two women, I must say, are extraordinary! They’re in their 80s and have been together for 46 years. They are retired college professors – Pat taught P.E. & Health and Betty taught Psychology to students aspiring to become Special Education teachers. Betty is a writer, Pat a photographer, and together, with their respective skills, they published four books. In addition to giving me an Arkansas atlas, they gifted me those books (and autographed them, too!) – Horse Trails of Oklahoma; Exploring Trails in Mid-America; Dad Wanted a Son; and a mystery thriller, Where No One Goes. They lived a life of adventure, traveling everywhere in their horse trailer (which included living quarters), exploring wild and rugged areas, taking photographs, and riding their horses and mules on horse trails of varying lengths and difficulty. They don’t ride so much anymore, but, as evidenced by their jeep, they still get out there and find dirt roads to bump around on. I’m truly honored to have met Pat and Betty and I sincerely thank Dot and Bonnie for this introduction. And, thank you again, Penny, for encouraging me to meet Bonnie and Dot three years ago!
After breakfast – and goodbye hugs – I followed Pat and Betty to a grocery store where I bought a few items. Then, sitting in my truck, I texted Billy, the fellow my sister called for me last Tuesday, and told him I was on my way and should be there within the hour. Taking his advice to use my iPhone’s GPS, I drove on a zigzag route of dirt/gravel farm roads and arrived at “Paw Paw’s Pecans,” located near Atkins.
A dirt and gravel road...
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| ...and a canopy of trees to Paw Paw's Pecans. |
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| My spot for the night, right in front of Billy's house, and next to a grove of pecan trees. |
There was no mistaking the whiff of something delicious coming from somewhere in that big house. The room to my immediate right was the “gift shop,” nicely organized with pecans, tasting samples, canned products, shirts and items for the home. As I glanced around, Billy came in and led me into the next room where a quilting machine was stitching a patch. His wife, Charlotte, was in there – she was stuffing a pillow – and I noted on the wall the many cubicles of fabric of assorted colors and designs. They then led me through the dining room to the huge kitchen and Charlotte showed me the cartons on the counter that contained homemade fudge of assorted flavors. She said she makes 100 pounds of fudge per week – in that kitchen. Eyeing the “peanut butter chocolate,” she gave me a sample. Whoa, really good and rich!
Discovering that I’m a cat lover, they brought in Guacamole, their indoor cat, to meet me. Aw, he liked me and kept coming back for some more petting. They have four outside cats as well. From the both of them I learned that Billy has 6,000 pecan trees and 12 species of pecan; they start growing in May and crack open during the months of September-December; their house is also a Bed & Breakfast and guest rooms are upstairs; they have a Facebook page and a lot of information and pictures on it; and, yes, they do have customers that come by in small and large numbers and buy their pecans and fudges. Billy also told me his father became deaf at age 12 from meningitis and Billy could remember a few signs (“thank you” being one) and fingerspelling.
I later sat outside under the shade of “my” pecan tree to write in my journal. That done I then took a walk around the groves of pecan trees and took a “close enough to touch” look at the various tractors and farm equipment that Billy has. Gee, those things are huge!
A trio of pecans...
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A garden trellis...
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| Proof positive on my camper that I drove on a dirt road today! |
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| Sunset rays through the pecan trees. |
Friday, September 9, 2022 – I slept very well last night. It became considerable cooler and I had a clear view of the moon through the cabover window. Before leaving Paw Paw’s I went inside the house, knocking on the door I had just opened, and both Billy and Charlotte came around to greet me. I made some purchases and then we bid each other goodbye…with me telling Billy that his long beard had grown on me!
My GPS got me back on I-40 and I headed east towards Conway, where I got gas and then connected to Rt. 65N. This portion of the highway is a four-lane, traversing through several towns and lovely Ozarks scenery. As I drove along, I saw signs for “Arkansas’s Natural Bridge.” Oh, yeah, Betty mentioned that yesterday. Seeing the entrance up ahead, I decided, “Sure, why not.”
There were two signs strategically placed just before the actual road to the Natural Bridge and both signs said “No buses. No trailers. No Motorhomes.” There was no mention of “truck camper” so I drove on ahead.
Oh, my gosh! They’re not kidding! That 1.5-mile road down to the parking area is barely wide enough for two cars – let alone my behemoth of a truck camper! -- very steep with very tight curves, and no shoulders. I was praying there wouldn’t be a vehicle coming my way. One of us would have to back down – or up – and it wasn’t going to be me!
I made it down, parked, and as soon as my heart calmed down, went inside the 150+ year old cabin (complete with a nearby moonshine still) and paid my $5.00 to see the Natural Bridge. The fellow there had seen me come down and park and when I mentioned “that road” and how am I gonna handle those insanely tight curves on the drive back up? He smiled and said “You’ll do fine because your truck is a Ford.” Yeah, right, and it took (and will again take!) all my concentration to make sure all six tires stayed on the pavement as I maneuvered (and will again do!) those steep, tight curves. And, gripping that steering wheel as I drove down, I told myself not to forget the physics of speed, weight, gravity, and the centrifugal force.
The Natural Bridge is a 100-ft. sandstone formation and described as a “…geological wonder once used by loggers as a bridge in the 19th and early 20th centuries.” As it is in and around the Ozarks, this area has a lot of history. To quote an excerpt -- “It’s said the Quapaw Indians once called the area home and early pioneers used the stone bridge to cross Little Johnny Creek. It’s also believed that one notable temporary resident was Belle Starr, a notorious female outlaw who had associations with other popular outlaws such as Jesse James.” I think Belle Starr would have liked me.
The Natural Bridge, looking up.
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| The bridge, looking down. |
I waited for him outside and when he came towards me, I said “I have a better idea. You drive my truck and then you walk back here.” He loved the suggestion but, nope, no go with that one. He told me to give him a two-minute head start and, exactly two minutes later, I got going. I must have started a few seconds too soon because I DID encounter a car coming down. Fortunately for the both of us, we met at a curve where I had juuuuust enough turnout to make a wide enough turn with some ease (key word here is “some”). I’m fairly certain that the driver of that small car was wide-eyed agape when he/she saw me coming and I’m also pretty sure he/she could hear very well the roar of my truck as I floored the gas pedal going uphill.
Finally reaching the top, my guy was right there and we waved and thumbed-up “thanks-yous” and “goodbyes.” Safely back on Rt. 65N, my mind and body told me that that particular “adventure” had used up my supply of adrenalin for the day!
Driving on, I soon reached the junction with Rt. 27N and, per directions from L.C. Ratchford, drove on that road, took a left onto another county road, and arrived at a grassy field where the instructions said to find my perfect spot to set up my camper for the night. “Ratchford Buffalo Farms and Cabin Rentals,” located near Marshall, is my fourth Harvest Hosts overnight boondocking visit. I texted L.C. that I was there and asked for confirmation that I was on the correct field. He came by in his red pickup, we shook hands “hello” and he helped guide me to a spot that he thought was most level. Both of us satisfied, he then said he’d pick me up at 5:00 p.m. to go see the buffaloes.
Settling in – and as I had done yesterday at Paw Paw’s – I activated the generator for the air conditioning and power for the laptop. Another RV soon pulled in and made a beeline for a specific spot, as if those folks had been here before. Just before 5:00 p.m., L.C. arrived, greeted the new arrivals, waved me over and asked if I was ready to see some – and he made a pretty good sign for “buffalo.”
L.C.’s truck is a beat up 2001 Dodge with stick shift. The driver’s seat was all ripped up, much worse than the passenger seat, and parts of the front dash, also torn up, were held in place with clear tape. L.C. laughed and shrugged when I teased him about it. He turned into a very narrow, rough dirt driveway and as we bumped along at something like 5 mph, I said that road would definitely “kill” my truck. We reached a gate and, telling me with his open palm to wait, he got out of the truck to open the gate. Coming back in the truck, he moved forward a few feet, gave me the open palm signal again, and got out to close the gate. That “open palm” became a very frequent signal throughout my tour.
As we approached the buffaloes’ fenced enclosure, I suddenly noticed that I was wearing my t-shirt inside out. I made an exclamation to L.C. and he laughed. He must have noticed and just didn’t say anything! Neither did that other RVing couple I’d just met!
While L.C. grabbed a bucket and went to the gate of that enclosure, I stepped off to the other side of the truck and got myself dressed properly. Getting that familiar signal again, I waited while he went inside the enclosure, calling out and making noise with the bucket. One buffalo came sauntering towards us, then a second one, then a third, then the entire herd of about 30 buffaloes, including several calves, gathered around. By then, L.C. was back outside the enclosure with me and started tossing the contents in the bucket over to the buffaloes. I asked and he said, no, he does not go in that enclosure when the buffaloes are there. They know him, yes, but unlike his cows, they are not docile. They’re dangerous and are capable of injuring him, or worse.
I have long been mesmerized by the buffalo, or bison, as they are also called. Having seen them before at national parks, freely walking around and grazing – as they had once done in the millions -- their entire being, their majestic physique, their ancient history, and the wisdom in their eyes, leaves me feeling immense respect and admiration for this noble animal. I had never been this close to a group of buffaloes before, and we were separated by a simple wire fence.
The food in the bucket was like a supplementary treat and after observing L.C. hand feed a massive buffalo named Raging Bull, he invited me to give him treats, too. That was incredible, and quite special, to be standing just inches from that huge shaggy head, those horns, those eyes, that coarse fur.
Two, sauntering over at L.C.'s call.
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A close up...
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Back at my camper and knowing that I wouldn’t be seeing L.C. again in the morning, I thanked him for today and we said our goodbyes. It occurred to me a short while later that L.C. didn’t have anything like a gift shop on his property. We texted and I told him that I will mail a donation to him later. He said he will use that donation to “…buy feed for some of the rescued animals.” Your buffaloes are rescues, I asked. He said one is – a Scottish Highlander, and he also has a rescued emu. Ahh, life on a farm. Gotta appreciate these folks – L.C. and Paw Paw!
My spot on L.C.'s "campground" field.
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| Viewing another contemplative Ozark sunset. |
I didn’t want to go all the way back south to I-40 and go east from there, so I selected the next “fastest” route on the GPS. And that turned out to be quite the journey! The GPS guided me through a series of interconnecting state and county roads before finally reaching the more direct Rt. 64E. The clouds threatened rain today but it was still a nice and lovely drive. Leaving the mountainous Ozarks behind I was now driving through and seeing the scenery of a flatter Arkansas countryside -- the small towns, the farms, the cattle, and the rolled bales of hay!
It finally did rain just as I was within 30 miles of the KOA. The rain let up when I arrived and registered for my site. Not long after I backed in, took care of the shore power and water hook ups, changed into what I call my “bum clothes,” and sat down with my laptop, it rained again. And, yes, since I kinda anticipated that, I left my windows closed. But I’m here, safe and sound, nice and dry, and will rest and get this Blog #4 ready to post.
Sunday, September 11, 2022 – Today is the 21st anniversary of the 9/11 terror attack. Remembering that day (when I was then living in Maryland and working at Gallaudet University) brings forward thoughts about my home, the United States of America. It can’t be avoided, my having these thoughts, especially with all that’s happening in our country today.
In my previous blog, I wrote about the people I encountered here in Arkansas. I wrote about how nice and kind they were to me, friendly, helpful, courteous, and very accommodating. Not just my fellow out-of-state RVers, but the people who live and work here. There are, of course, those of another ilk on the other end of the spectrum, but I haven’t met those folks and sincerely hope I won’t.
Several of my readers sent me emails about that blog, expressing their own sentiments and how my words touched them. Replying to that first email I received, I conveyed a personal opinion about our fellow humans. At this stage of my travel around Arkansas, I’ve met and interacted with even more people – the rangers at Lake Dardanelle, the mother of that little deaf girl, Pat and Betty, Billy and Charlotte, that fellow at the Natural Bridge, and L.C.
It now strikes me how increasingly very true my one-liner opinion has become…
“It's not always the people, it's the leadership.”
Another adventurous week. The buffalo you're meeting is just enormous! It looks like your entire hand would fit inside one nostril! Not recommended of course! I know you loved the lake sunset. Billy's house looks like a true Southern Plantation Home. I don't know if you remember that our house in Eastman was surrounded by pecan trees. Bill and I had to go around and pick up the fallen pecans. Not fun! Billy sounds like he would be impossible to lip-read. Glad you managed okay. Happy Trails!
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