Words don't do this place justice, which is why I wrote a poem trying to explain the beauty and my feelings about my last trip to the Natural State. I won't say too terribly much about it this time either and let the images do most of the talking, but I'll give you the backstory and quickest facts.
This time, I had an old friend along, Chris "T-Bird" Snell, T-Bird being his trail name. We met long ago through music, sharing the stage many times over the years, and I played in his band Razor Doves twice on two different instruments, which we discussed on the way up, among all of the politics, religion, technology, and social issues we also discussed.
Outside of music, Chris bought some land in the Texas Hill Country a couple of years ago, and I was fortunate enough to help him with some of the first projects there, including clearing some land, tearing down some old structures, and helping to frame and build a couple of the first small new structures on the land. He's done a lot on his own since then. He is currently the only person I'm friends with who can "outdoors" better than me, and I'm honored to count him as an excellent friend. He should buy a motorcycle.
I had never backpacked before, so I was training with cardio and heavy hikes, but Chris did a large part of the Appalachian trail several years ago, and I remembered this as I passed his land on my way to a training hike at Garner State Park before this trip and invited him immediately. He accepted almost instantly, and while on this trip he bequeathed unto me the trail name "Admiral," on account of my obsession with boat knowledge, navigation, and knot work. I'll take it!
We drove for ten hours on Friday, October 10, and camped very near the Little Blakely trailhead at one of three established camp sites, likely displacing some teenagers that enjoyed the spot often, but hey, we'd just driven five hundred miles, and we were ready for dinner.
On Saturday, day 2, we packed up camp, slung our very heavy packs on, and set out for the most difficult journey of my life across the Rocky Ridge Trail on the southern end of the peninsula. We walked almost eight miles that day across incredibly rough terrain with fifty pound packs, lots of elevation changes, crossing ridges, switching back and forth, up and down, around southern Little Blakely's peninsulas and cuts, walking on shale, limestone and quartz rocks most of the time. We stopped to rest several times, especially after cresting a rise so my heart could catch up, and we had a quick lunch along the trail at the boulder field that makes up the rocky ridge.
By the time we reached the western end of the peninsula, I think we were both very close to our physical limits, me more so than Chris, and he found a lovely, somewhat established, though long unused camp site in a nice little flat area on a finger of land in the lake, surrounded by the typical Arkansas tree variety, Post Oaks, Hickory, and Loblolly Pines, with a large stone block fire pit already built. We set our stuff down and got to work establishing our base camp, pitching tents and gathering firewood. After that, it was time for a swim, casting the lines a few times, an early dinner, and early to bed. We both slept almost ten hours in recovery mode in perfect weather, a high of 78 and a low of 59.
On Sunday, day 3, we took the path around the western end of the peninsula, this time with lighter packs, taking only what we thought we'd need for the day, water, water filtration, snacks, lunch, telescoping fishing rods and tackle. I really underestimated the time it would take us to cross such intense terrain on foot, epsecially considering how the path meandered, rose and fell so much, but we made the western-most end of the peninsula on the northern most finger, found another long unused campsite, had some lunch, and cast the lines a few more times before continuing on. We soon realized we'd run out of daylight if we'd continue along the northern loop, so we decided to cross back over a couple of ridges and head back to our base camp, which essentially leaves the entire northern shore of the peninsula still unexplored. Not for long.
On Monday morning we broke down camp, hefted our heavy packs on our backs again, and went out through the "easiest" way possible, right down the middle through the glades, though I did take us down the wrong trail for about fifteen minutes at one point. Oops. We walked about twenty miles over the course of three days.
I could go back every October for a few days and still not explore all of the land in the Ouachita National Forest. It's pretty glorious, and it's just the first of a few I intend to explore in the area. The Ozarks might be next!
Here's what we saw.
The End.
Go out and do stuff.
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