Seven miles down a moderately managed dirt road in the Ouachita National Forest is the Little Missouri Falls. The drive is pretty doable for any car in the proper conditions—there is a creek crossing that could cause trouble after a heavy rain—but the reason to drive this road is the swimming hole at the end.
Cars cruise past our campsite, methodically crunching the gravel. It initially seemed odd to have a parade of vehicles regularly circle through the group camping area. Now we know better.
I bounce in my chair as we turn into Toltec Mounds Archeological State Park. The name, however, is a misnomer. These massive man made Mounds were originally attributed to the Toltec because locals believed that regional Indians were too savage to achieve such great earthworks. We now know that assumption to be wrong for multiple reasons.
We didn't have plans for lunch until we drove by the Cotham Mercantile, "Where the elite meet to eat". The sagging porch roof, faded hardware hanging from a pegboard wall, and farming equipment leaned against the register were like a full set of gold stars to a traveler in search of a novel experience.
East Arkansas is drenched. Flood waters have transformed roads into docks and campgrounds into harbors. Mobile homes on blocks barely float above the water level. Rice farmers block the highway pull off with orange cones to park their truck at the lake bank that was once their front yard. A boat is docked at their front porch—their only means to reach the road.
Clarksdale, Mississippi is home to many blues landmarks, but most notoriously, a site of a Satanic Pact.
Harpeth River State Park is composed of an archipelago of public islands in a sea of private land. Hiking to the top of the Harpeth River Narrows reveals miles of farm land as far as the eye can see. We had just gotten a new care package, courtesy of Duluth Trading Company, and decided this would be the time to take it for a spin.
My dress smells of campfire smoke, my hair is tangled by the wind, and my boots are caked with mud. And I couldn't be more content. We are visiting Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area, straddling the Tennessee and Kentucky border for a weekend of camping, cooking, and hiking with friends.
After spending days in South Padre Island, here we are on the northern tip. While there are still sand dunes, they are smaller and quickly give way to grassy wetlands. As Padre Island National Seashore is to South Padre Island, Mustang State Park is to Corpus Christi. Here, the bayside residents can get in the wilderness to camp, swim, fish, and kayak. There is an extensive parking lot for RVs. I can only imagine how crowded this place gets on the weekends. We were there, though, to get our feet wet.
For the first time in our entire trip, the border patrol stopped us. Usually, we drive up, confirm that we are citizens, no one else is in our truck, and that is it. And, yet...