Towards the Heart of Arkansas

Impressions en route to the center of Arkansas:

Commerce not limited to stores, produce not limited to grocery stores. Garden plots abounded, and roadside sales offered a variety of products: blue tick coon hounds, peaches, melons, honey, catfish, corn, tomatoes, cabbage.

Numerous chicken farms. Stopped at one to get water and a middle-aged Hispanic man came out to meet us among the scampering Chihuahuas. Al was his name, and without hesitation he ushered us inside to use his sink and restroom. Al had previously farmed in California/Arizona, but had come to Arkansas at the invitation of his boss. “How do you like Arkansas?” we asked.

“I like it here okay, except for the humid heat,” he replied. Pedaling up and down the hilly terrain that day, we felt the same.

Passed a rolling pasture where an old man was driving an tractor of about his same vintage. He looked our way, we waved, and apparently something about our rig amused him, for his delighted cackling laughter could be heard above the roar of his machine.

Came up from behind on an old shirtless man in brown polyester pants striding purposefully across his yard. He stopped, tensed, and BANG!!! Then we saw the barrel of his shotgun lower, and across the yard a squirrel writhing in its final moments of life. Perhaps some stereotypes have a basis in reality.

Rode into Russelville on a causeway over the Lake Dardanelle. Lining the roadway were innumerable turtles sunning themselves on top of rocks or larger turtles. Inexplicably, hours of traffic caused them no distress, but our passing caused them to flee into the water. It was almost as if we were on the water ourselves, as splashing turtles produced a wake behind us. We also stirred up several blue herons, their beating wings leaving tiny ripples like skipping stones as they flew just above the surface of the bayou.

Lunch at Fat Daddy’s BBQ, a place that focused on quality rather than variety. “We put the meat on your buns,” their sign boasted. With your meat, you could choose from among three sides: cole slaw, potato salad, or baked beans. We got all three, and for each it was apparent that great care had been taken in crafting the recipe. The baked beans were the best Laura or I had ever eaten, and Oklahoma is no slouch on beans.

Sixty miles that day found us in Atkins, population 2,800. The city hall, police station, firehouse, and EMS were all located conveniently on a half-acre lot, and we hoped to get permission to camp on the grass between them all. The police made obtaining permission seem like a passport application, but they assented and we set up near the firehouse. There we met Rhonda and Chris, the EMS squad for the evening. Chris was young, early 20’s, and still studying for full EMS certification, while Rhonda had been at it for years. They graciously offered us warm showers in the station and gave us directions to the library (next door) and the public pool (across the railroad tracks).

After a swim and some emailing, we took them up on their shower offer then chatted a bit. Born and raised in Atkins, Rhonda recounted how as a girl she had written a letter about her life and the town for Atkin’s centennial celebration in 1976. Her teenaged daughter come by later and practiced her softball pitching against the firehouse’s brick wall.

When she learned of our plans to go to the center of the state, Rhonda warned forebodingly, “Oh, it starts getting to be a dark area around Mayflower.”

“Dark?” we asked, naively puzzled.

“Yeah, you know, black. Lots of crackhouses down there,” she clarified. We were taken aback.

Chris tried to cover a little: “Yeah, but there’s still a lotta nice people around.” It was a bit shocking to see such a striking portrayal of the generational gap in racial attitude between Chris’s generation and Rhonda’s. It was also sobering to realize that, even in 2007, our journey would be an entirely different experience were our skin of a different color.

Nevertheless, her hospitality towards us was abundant, and as we read in our tent before sleep, Rhonda brought us out two piping hot hunks of brownie. Our teeth were already brushed, but who could resist? Bellies full and teeth decaying, we fell asleep quickly.