Skip to main content

Adventures in Arkansas

Saturday morning, 6:50 am. My phone bleeps. The assistant manager at work: Could you possibly come in today for a few hours? It's really busy.
7:10 am, after some deliberation: Yes, if I have to, but I'll be on overtime. Is that OK?
7:12 am: Ohhh... better check with the store manager.
Small delay, during which Graham and I, being both well awake by this time, cook and eat a pancake breakfast.
7:55 am: Never mind about today. And you're not working tomorrow either.
7:57 am: What time do I come in on Monday?
8:04 am: You're off on Monday too.
8:05 am: Graham rushes to computer to research places to go for a weekend trip. By 11:30 am we're hitting the I-30 on our way to Hot Springs, Arkansas.



Lake Ouachita (that's WASH-it-ah, not wah-CHEET-ah) at sunset

Thus began one of the most impromptu weekends away I've ever done, going from expecting to work most of the weekend to being on holiday in a few short hours. By evening we had arrived at Lake Ouachita State Park and found our campsite. This featured a nice flat tarmac driveway for the car, a nice flat concrete slab for the picnic table - and a stony slope for the tent! Having no other option, we pitched and prepared to make the best of it, and spent the night sliding down the hill in our slippery nylon sleeping bags. The next day we picked up the tent bodily and moved it to a flatter spot on another site. The following morning we were woken by a guy cruising round in a golf cart to ask us why we were occupying a site we hadn't paid for. This despite the fact that we were the only people on the entire campground!


Hot Springs itself has some resemblance to a British seaside resort in its air of crumbling grandeur. In the early 20th century the city was a hotspot (pun intended) for those wishing to bathe in the healing waters of the 60C natural springs. Imposing spa buildings and grand hotels lined Bathhouse Row, and thousands took advantage of their facilities. With the invention of antibiotics and the rise of the motor car, fewer and fewer people were content to spend their vacation sitting in a warm pond, and the inevitable decline occurred. Today the place is pleasant in a backwaterish kind of a way, but you are constantly reminded that it is a shadow of what it once was.




Actual hot springs

There are only two of the original bath houses open for business, although many of the buildings still stand and are being restored for other purposes. We spent a pleasant couple of hours splashing around in the Quapaw Baths. The four pools range from warm to very hot, and we shared them only with a scattering of retirees.



Quapaw Baths - the name inspired by Native Americans, the architecture by Arabs


Feeling very relaxed and clean, we headed over the road to BubbaLu's Bodacious Burgers for a spot of lunch. As well as great food, this place deserves a mention for its staff, who not only remembered how Graham likes his coffee, but - well, listen to this. We'd parked the car on the street. We came out of BubbaLu's. We walked towards the car. We looked at each other. Said, "This is where we left it, isn't it?" Looked at a sign. The sign said, "Reserved for tour vehicles only". We thought, "oh no!". Went dashing back into BubbaLu's. "What do we do if our car has been towed?" Very nice lady called up the city council for us and asked about it. No one knew a thing. We thought, "It's been stolen!" She asks, "Are you sure that's where you left it?" We say, "Yes.... No!" Martha dashes a few yards down the street. The car is sitting smugly just where we parked it - in the opposite direction to where we looked. We feel like a pair of idiots. Very nice lady says, "I'm just glad it's there for you". We are eternally indebted to her and need another spell in the baths to recover from the shock.


It's our car!

Fortunately the calm lakes and tree-covered hills in the area are not conducive to mental tension for long. We enjoyed swimming in the former and walking in the latter in the warm autumn sunshine and felt our spirits soothed and uplifted by the beautiful surroundings.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Churnet Way: a wonderful walk

The loop from Oakamoor to Froghall and back was one of the most enjoyable walks I've done in a long time. It had a bit of everything: woods, ponds, rivers and railways; steep climbs and sweeping views; an unusual church, an ex-industrial wharf, and, as a final bonus, car parks with toilets. Of course, the sunny weather helped too. I parked in Oakamoor and set off along a quiet lane called Stoney Dale. This is the route of the Churnet Way, which deviates away from the river for a couple of miles. After a while I turned right and climbed up through the woods on a gravelly path, then dropped down to the B5417. a spring in Oakamoor   Crossing the road, I entered Hawksmoor Nature Reserve. It has some fine gateposts commemorating John Richard Beech Masefield, "a great naturalist". I found a photo of the opening of the gateway in 1933; unsurprisingly, the trees have grown a lot since then! A track took me down through the woods to East Wall Farm. Lovely view! Nice duck pond as

The Churnet Way: bells at Alton

Alton village and Alton Towers are perched on opposite banks of the Churnet, with the river cutting a deep valley between them. Most people drive straight through the village on the way to the theme park. But I have a great liking for walks and no fondness at all for rollercoasters, so I found a large layby to park in at Town End, in Alton, and pulled on my boots. The church bells were ringing as I set off. I vaguely wondered if there was an event. A wedding? Unlikely on a Tuesday morning. Maybe a funeral. I followed a footpath across a few fields to reach Saltersford Lane. This was the width of a single-track road, but mostly overgrown and muddy. I was grateful for the strip of stone flags (and some more modern concrete slabs) which provided a dry surface to walk on. Presently I came out into some fields and dropped down a slope to the old railway line, at the point where I left it on my previous walk .  bit of old rail   There followed several miles of walking along the railway path.

The Very Persistent Widow, or, We're Going on a Judge Hunt

Image by Pexels from Pixabay   At church this morning I was leading the kids group for the five- to seven-year olds. We are studying parables at the moment - the short and punchy stories that Jesus told. Today's was about the persistent widow, who kept on going to the judge's house to demand justice. As I read it, echoes of The Very Hungry Caterpillar came into my head: "...and he was STILL hungry!" as well as images from We're Going on a Bear Hunt: "Mud! Thick, oozy mud!" So here is the version of The Persistent Widow that Jesus would, I am sure, have told, if his audience had been a group of infant school kids. They seemed to enjoy it. I hope you do too.  If you have a small child to help with the knocks and the "No!"s, so much the better. The Very Persistent Widow Lydia was a widow. That means her husband had died. She didn’t have any children, so she lived all by herself. Now someone had done something wrong to Lydia. Maybe someone had