View of the lake at Petit Jean State Park
I took several pictures of the lake & this tree. Some with my camera, some with my Mom's more expensive camera. I like this one; plus, the one's with Mom's camera are much larger images, so Blogger has some issues with them.
While at Petit Jean State Park, my Dad decided to nap. Note his head is on my Mom's leather chaps & his hat is shielding his eyes from what little sun is coming through the trees. His boots are off & he was clearly asleep! The snoring gave him away!
We got to Clarksville right at dark. My sis & I had bootlegged beer into a dry county, but all the ice in the small cooler had melted. We re-iced & waited for it to cool. We all re-grouped in the pool at the motel. It was cool & nice, but reasonably crowded with other families with small children. I especially liked the 19 year old in the Confederate Battle Flag bikini.
Regardless of the company, all six of us cooled in the pool & talked about my cousin who races bikes on tracks. He's raced maybe 6 or 8 times & was scheduled for "track day" that day. Track day is when each rider gets used to the new track but doesn't race or participate in timed trials. According to my cousin, no one wrecks on track day. Until Saturday, September 1st. He wrecked & broke his collar bone, again. The bike is fine, but he's done for the season. That dominated the conversation in the pool & hot tub later. Of course, the young man is 26 years old & can make his own decisions about his bike & his body, so his parent's grousing about it does little good.
We eventually moved to my parent's room to play Rook. I was a novice & no one told me the complete rules, so my aunt & I lost to sis & uncle. We played probably 6 or 8 hands & then went to bed.
The next morning we tried the Continental Breakfast at the motel. It was ok, but not great. Mostly, I had coffee. We talked with some folks from Witchita, KS who were passing through, heading to Tennessee with no real agenda other than Monday, September 10th 8:00 AM they had to be back at work. It was a little cool this morning & I knew we'd be heading into the Ozark National Forest, so I put on the long-sleeved Turner's Bend shirt. My Dad harrassed me about it because, in his mind, the pig was riding a Harley & he thought Leroy would take exception to that. I assured Dad that Leroy & I had reached an accord about the shirt.
We left the Arkansas River Valley up Hwy 23 & then turned onto forest roads to wind over to Haw Creek Falls camp ground. I hesitate to publish the name of it here because it is one of the few unspoiled areas in the Ozarks & I'd like it to stay that way. It is somewhat difficult to find, but does show up on maps that show the state campgrounds. If you see this & travel there, please respect the wilderness. Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints. Unfortunately, not all do so - we cleaned up several beer cans & a used diaper from the area around the falls.
When I was in my teen years, there were no paved roads to it, no toilets once you got there & no picnic tables, trash cans, etc. It was primative camping in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. There are maybe a dozen camp site spread around a loop dirt road.
View down the loop road at the campground
Squirrell camp was always at the end where you can see the picnic table
The Falls at Haw Creek, dried for the summer
What little trickle there was at Haw Creek Falls
The only thing that had changed at Haw Creek Falls was what I mentioned above. They recently built compost toilet buildings, put in picnic tables & trash cans. Still very primative - no showers or running water of any sort, no power, no RV hook-ups. There were several groups of campers there. When we used to go, there were none. We would go to hunt squirrell in the valley. They were plentiful this day, though we were not hunting. I was reminded of the day that Dad killed a squirrell. We went to the falls to clean it. Right then & there, I decided that I was not to be a Great White Hunter - I simply could not stomach the cleaning of the animals.
I was reminded of the beauty of the place. I was reminded of the nights spent under the stars & the camp fires & the stories & the friends. My friend Perry Jon is now in Iraq with the Arkansas National Guard. His father, Jerry, led the same unit in the original Desert Shield. Jerry died a few years ago, but its a shame that he was not allowed to finish the job in Iraq when he was there in the early 1990's. Now his son has to be there, leaving a wife & 2 children alone in Arkansas. It was a bitter sweet occassion.
Jerry was the leader of the squirrell camp, a realtor from nearby Dardanelle. Dad began going when Jerry's sons & I were too young to hunt. As we got older, the group dwindled. Most moved away from Dardanelle or just got too busy. Dad loved those weekends & I loved the few times I went with him when I was old enough. There's one famous story of a weekend when it was just Dad, Jerry, his sons Perry Jon & Kimble & myself. The dads warned us not to play in the creek, but we did & came back with wet boots. Kimble burned his boot laces trying to dry them by the fire!
We left Haw Creek Falls too soon, but I promised myself, silently, to return within 2 years with my father & children to observe the beauty of the place where I used to camp. My father wrote a story about the place that mentions taking his grandchildren there. When my 2 year old is a little older, I'll make sure Dad takes his grandchildren there.
We took forest roads on over to Scenic Highway 7 & turned north towards Jasper & Harrison. My brother-in-law was to meet us in Harrison for lunch. This is a view from Highway 7.
View from overlook off Highway 7, south of Jasper
Me leaping over the rockwall at the overlook after retreiving a water bottle that fell off the wall. Environmental friendliness ahead off personal safety
From Harrison, we said goodbye to my uncle & aunt, who headed back to Kansas City. We backtracked down to Jasper so we could take the route south of the Buffalo National River over to Kingston, up through Huntsville & finally into Eureka Springs, where we stopped for the night.
This was a great ride that reminded me of boy scouting days. We passed the entrance to Camp Orr, the summer camp of the district. I spent a week there several summers in a row. The camp is on the Buffalo National River. There are large fields on the river's edge for archery & other activities. The camp sites are up the hill away from the river. I once did the Mile Swim in the river. That's much harder than doing it in a pool - one lap you are swimming with the current, but then you have to turn around & swim against the current.
My troop would canoe at least once a year on the Buffalo River. We would typically borrow the scout camp's canoes, put in at the camp & then canoe a few miles down river & take out at Pruitt, near Jasper. Many memories of great camping came out of this ride.
