2021-04-27
Bluff View camp was another night spent without deep or continuous sleep. I knew the temperature would dip into the 40s and was constantly concerned that despite my ancient Eddie Bauer down sleeping bag I’d end up chilled due to the wind flowing beneath my ENO hammock. I figured I could attempt to layer in my Thermarest pad if that happened, but there was never a need.
I was also repeatedly awoken, when I did drift off, by the wind loudly whipping the edges of the hammock like a flag. Sometimes I could hold the fabric still but it wasn’t a good solution, and I gradually decided it was just part of the adventure and tried to enjoy it.
When the sun rose I was ready to meet the day.
Loadout was quick, not having unpacked much or erected my tent, and as I only had a cup of water left in my canteen I didn’t plan to expend it making instant oatmeal. My hope was to find a restaurant in town where I could get a solid breakfast and pirate a bit of power to charge a device or two, maybe even with an internet connection I could use to plot the day’s route.
But the one open restaurant I saw was packed and I was disinclined to subject myself to that situation, given I’d seen not a single face mask in use since I’d entered Missouri – rather a contrast from Kentucky, where I saw a surprising degree of compliance with that most basic, simple, practical, effective, and essentially painless method of thwarting a pandemic which is at this point far from quashed.
The only other choice appeared to be McDonalds in which wi-fi would likely have been available, but the lobby was closed and thus couldn’t have aided my search for charging power.
On the road out of town was a pleasant rest area where I found a bar on my phone, so I group-texted a status update to my family and apologized for the previous night's radio silence.
I then ate my last Clif bar and resorted to the age old technique of planning a route using the stash of paper maps I’d hastily selected from a Bankers Box in my basement the night before I left home. The Missouri state highway map was at least a decade old, and the only thing I had that showed Arkansas was a tattered “Central and Western States” map of similar vintage, but it was enough to work with and lent the morning a nostalgic feel.
The route sheet I built was far less complex than it would have been if I’d had access to Google Maps; I chose roads that were big enough that they had numbers or had a good chance of being positively identified when I got to them.
Fortunately, the big map did show a particular road in Arkansas that was what my original plan would have led me to: AR-16 through the Ozark National Forest.
I mounted up and continued my journey through Mark Twain National Forest along MO-34, which was a blast – just a wonderful winding road though virtually unoccupied woodlands, on a cool sunny morning, with rarely an oncoming car let alone any that impeded my ability to put my motorcycle to precisely the use its designers had intended.
Shortly before reaching US-60 I passed the County Line Café (all caps, the “N” in “COUNTY” stenciled backwards but the “N” in “LINE” correct). It was the place I’d been looking for. No cars in the parking lot promised an uncrowded breakfast nook that would appreciate my business, where I’d probably be able to use as many electrical outlets as needed to juice up my gadgets.
It proved exactly that, a friendly down-home diner where I took the back booth and started plugging things in as the bottomless coffee arrived.
I was feeling pretty good about my choice until I overheard the waitress discussing with the cook about a person I took to be an employee who was “still too sick to come into work” but was “feeling better” and “past the contagious stage”.
At least I’d had my first vaccination several days before my departure.
Back on the road, I continued an excellent ride through southern Missouri and wound my way into northern Arkansas.
Bluff View camp was another night spent without deep or continuous sleep. I knew the temperature would dip into the 40s and was constantly concerned that despite my ancient Eddie Bauer down sleeping bag I’d end up chilled due to the wind flowing beneath my ENO hammock. I figured I could attempt to layer in my Thermarest pad if that happened, but there was never a need.
I was also repeatedly awoken, when I did drift off, by the wind loudly whipping the edges of the hammock like a flag. Sometimes I could hold the fabric still but it wasn’t a good solution, and I gradually decided it was just part of the adventure and tried to enjoy it.
When the sun rose I was ready to meet the day.
Loadout was quick, not having unpacked much or erected my tent, and as I only had a cup of water left in my canteen I didn’t plan to expend it making instant oatmeal. My hope was to find a restaurant in town where I could get a solid breakfast and pirate a bit of power to charge a device or two, maybe even with an internet connection I could use to plot the day’s route.
But the one open restaurant I saw was packed and I was disinclined to subject myself to that situation, given I’d seen not a single face mask in use since I’d entered Missouri – rather a contrast from Kentucky, where I saw a surprising degree of compliance with that most basic, simple, practical, effective, and essentially painless method of thwarting a pandemic which is at this point far from quashed.
The only other choice appeared to be McDonalds in which wi-fi would likely have been available, but the lobby was closed and thus couldn’t have aided my search for charging power.
On the road out of town was a pleasant rest area where I found a bar on my phone, so I group-texted a status update to my family and apologized for the previous night's radio silence.
I then ate my last Clif bar and resorted to the age old technique of planning a route using the stash of paper maps I’d hastily selected from a Bankers Box in my basement the night before I left home. The Missouri state highway map was at least a decade old, and the only thing I had that showed Arkansas was a tattered “Central and Western States” map of similar vintage, but it was enough to work with and lent the morning a nostalgic feel.
The route sheet I built was far less complex than it would have been if I’d had access to Google Maps; I chose roads that were big enough that they had numbers or had a good chance of being positively identified when I got to them.
Fortunately, the big map did show a particular road in Arkansas that was what my original plan would have led me to: AR-16 through the Ozark National Forest.
I mounted up and continued my journey through Mark Twain National Forest along MO-34, which was a blast – just a wonderful winding road though virtually unoccupied woodlands, on a cool sunny morning, with rarely an oncoming car let alone any that impeded my ability to put my motorcycle to precisely the use its designers had intended.
Shortly before reaching US-60 I passed the County Line Café (all caps, the “N” in “COUNTY” stenciled backwards but the “N” in “LINE” correct). It was the place I’d been looking for. No cars in the parking lot promised an uncrowded breakfast nook that would appreciate my business, where I’d probably be able to use as many electrical outlets as needed to juice up my gadgets.
It proved exactly that, a friendly down-home diner where I took the back booth and started plugging things in as the bottomless coffee arrived.
I was feeling pretty good about my choice until I overheard the waitress discussing with the cook about a person I took to be an employee who was “still too sick to come into work” but was “feeling better” and “past the contagious stage”.
At least I’d had my first vaccination several days before my departure.
Back on the road, I continued an excellent ride through southern Missouri and wound my way into northern Arkansas.
When I got to route 16, it turned out to be almost everything I’d hoped for: flawless serpentine pavement winding along the crest of a ridge through territory that was all but wilderness; a road from nowhere to nowhere and thus virtually devoid of traffic. The weather had grown overcast but the temperature was essentially perfect.
If there was a flaw it was that the views of adjacent valleys and ridges, which were probably incredible decades ago, are now all but completely eclipsed by the forest that has grown up since likely having been clear-cut decades ago when the road was paved.
If there was a flaw it was that the views of adjacent valleys and ridges, which were probably incredible decades ago, are now all but completely eclipsed by the forest that has grown up since likely having been clear-cut decades ago when the road was paved.
The vista from Fairview Trailhead
At Fairview Trailhead
But no matter. My single-minded mission this day was to ride the road, not look at the scenery, which would only have been a distraction.
At Brashears I hung a left and descended off the ridge. This as it turned out was a bit premature; my original Google Maps itinerary would have given me a bit more of that kind of riding and also would have dropped me off the ridge right at my intended destination.
Instead, after fueling up I had to work my way along major highways westward and then back north until I reached Lake Fort Smith State Park, where I was able to score the last available site in a compact campground.
At Brashears I hung a left and descended off the ridge. This as it turned out was a bit premature; my original Google Maps itinerary would have given me a bit more of that kind of riding and also would have dropped me off the ridge right at my intended destination.
Instead, after fueling up I had to work my way along major highways westward and then back north until I reached Lake Fort Smith State Park, where I was able to score the last available site in a compact campground.
The crowded campground was quite a surprise. Based on my experience so far this trip, the idea I might not arrive in time to get a site seemed far less likely than the possibility of pulling up to a locked gate.
There were a couple lodges in the vicinity which might have been viable alternatives had I not found a site, and in retrospect had I ended up in one I’d probably have had a better experience. But that’s a topic for the next dispatch.
Once again I had no cell service, but I left the park and rode back the way I'd come until I could see a tower on a nearby peak. Pulling off the road I checked and had a signal, so I group-texted that I'd arrived safely at my intended destination.
I returned to camp and as I set up was visited by a gentleman from the site directly across, who was comfortably ensconced in a Mercedes campervan.
“You’re pretty brave spending the night in that little tent, considering the forecast”, he said.
“Oh?”
“Severe thunderstorms overnight and tomorrow.”
“Well, the important thing is that I had good weather for the last three days of twisty roads. Tomorrow is just I-40 west.”
Ian from Minnesota, who had a distinct British accent, understood exactly what I meant.
He used to ride a BMW K1200RS.
There were a couple lodges in the vicinity which might have been viable alternatives had I not found a site, and in retrospect had I ended up in one I’d probably have had a better experience. But that’s a topic for the next dispatch.
Once again I had no cell service, but I left the park and rode back the way I'd come until I could see a tower on a nearby peak. Pulling off the road I checked and had a signal, so I group-texted that I'd arrived safely at my intended destination.
I returned to camp and as I set up was visited by a gentleman from the site directly across, who was comfortably ensconced in a Mercedes campervan.
“You’re pretty brave spending the night in that little tent, considering the forecast”, he said.
“Oh?”
“Severe thunderstorms overnight and tomorrow.”
“Well, the important thing is that I had good weather for the last three days of twisty roads. Tomorrow is just I-40 west.”
Ian from Minnesota, who had a distinct British accent, understood exactly what I meant.
He used to ride a BMW K1200RS.
I plugged a few devices into the site's electrical outlet. Put them into a ziplock bag in case it started raining. Cooked my last cup of ramen noodles.
I then strolled down to the visitor center. The back porch was a better place than my campsite picnic table to sit in a rocker, sip Crown Royal from my reserve flask, and write a blog for which publication would have to wait.
I then strolled down to the visitor center. The back porch was a better place than my campsite picnic table to sit in a rocker, sip Crown Royal from my reserve flask, and write a blog for which publication would have to wait.
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