Riding the White Line

Epilogue to 1984 Tour

May 10, 1984

Well, I’m finally writing down some notes about the final days of the bike trip.

The evening at Mount Nebo brought more rain. Lightning and thunder all about again. Not as much wind this time. Yay. But heavy rain in the morning soaked everything. I moved into the bathhouse and packed everything.

Ate breakfast and called Wayne Williams to make sure the Luau was still on. He said it was if it didn’t rain anymore.

I biked down to Russellville and dried everything at a Laundromat and headed off to the Big Piney and the 1984 Bayou Luau.

Jeff and Holly at the Bayou Luau

There were about 50 people when I arrived. Most were from Arkansas Tech, but Paul, Billy S., Tyler, Sheri, Holly and, of course, THE Jeff Williams were there. We played volleyball, searched for hidden treasure, raced canoes, watched hula hoop contests, and chose the 1984 Don Ho look-alike. (Same as last year.)

In the evening Paul and I drove into Russellville and got a couple of Whattaburgers. I enjoyed talking with him. He’s headed for Alaska this summer, and then he’s not sure where. He and Ethelyn C. are going up there to work and enjoy the scenery.

Anyway, the next morning I was going to cut out of there as early as possible and ride straight through to Fayetteville, a 100-mile trip.

Unfortunately, rain showed up again in the early morning hours and kept up till about 10 a.m. I took off in a light rain, which let up about the time I headed into the mountains. Once again I rode in fog. I was also hampered by flats. The rear wheel has a problem with the strip of rubber that protects the inner tube from the spokes. It had worn through and the spokes were rubbing against the tube. I think I patched the tube four times that day.

Despite the obstacles, I did indeed make Fayetteville before sundown. From Boston on, I had a primarily downhill run through the White River valley. Coming into the berg, I passed Dan on the highway. He pulled around, and we talked for a few moments.

Then it was on to home and a long hot bath!

That day, though exhausting was pretty when the fog broke. The dogwood were in bloom and made the forests look snow-covered.

This trip was quite an enjoyable one. It began and ended with much different motives than the first trip. I rode this time for the sightseeing and chance to see friends. My friends were what made this trip.

The Dog Attack

A break from rain and fog, and the pedaling, at least for a moment.

May 4, 1984

Fell asleep to the sound of the whippoorwill’s song. Slept nicely and soundly.

Had a wonderful ride north on Arkansas Highway 27. Slow traffic for most of the day, and sunshine and moderately cool temperatures made the pedaling worthwhile. Especially considering the days of rain and fog. All that got me through that was singing every happy song I know and thinking often of friends' faces.

Today’s ride inflamed my dreams again. I think I will have to start a newspaper in Fayetteville. I think I could manage a weekly. Perhaps buy the old typesetter from the J Dept. and the auto-tape and maybe even the Compugraphic. I guess I’d need some kind of darkroom setup. And a press. Where am I going to get a press?

And I have my Pan-American Tour to think about. Such a trek will require some massive logistics. Much thinking and planning still has yet to be done.

And last, I’ve been dreaming about meeting a woman with whom I could spend my life. I would enjoy the opportunity to meet somebody like Mary who is closer in age to me.

The view at dusk from Mount Nebo.

But, back to the trip. Today, I climbed the toughest hill ever. Three miles of switchbacks and 15 percent grades has brought me to the top of Mount Nebo, where I’m staying at the state park.

My pulse raced to about 150 over 60. I sweated like a big dog.

Speaking of big dogs, one attacked me today. First time that I recall a dog trying to have me for lunch. This big yellow dog came running from behind and lunged onto the rear of the bike like a lion pouncing on a gazelle. He bit my Thinsulate pad! He bit it. Then when he realized it wasn’t alive, he came after my leg. I popped the gears and sprinted out of there as fast as I could. Burst of energy!

Pretty crazy to say the least. I know what wild game feel like now.

Nearly Blown Away

Clouds rise from the Kiamichi Valley, the rugged setting for 'True Grit.'

May 3, 1984

Had planned to write yesterday, but, well, things got a little out of hand.

It did rain all night on the first. It broke enough in the morning to give me hope, and I set off for Queen Wilhelmina State Park in Arkansas.

Started raining again within hours. The highways between Beaver’s Bend and Queen Wilhelmina are fairly desolate. I ate lunch at the only burger joint on the whole 65-mile stretch. It was a room no larger than a good-sized bank vault, but I had on good cheeseburger and one delicious malt.

Back out into the rain, I made a long, slow climb over the Kiamichi Mountain and had my first encounter with fog. It wouldn’t be my last that day. Fast run down the mountain into the Kiamichi Valley and by Big Cedar. This valley is supposed to be the one that the book and movie True Grit are set in.

I immediately began climbing again. The rain had finally broken off. I kept climbing and climbing. Reached Oklahoma Highway 1, Talimena Drive, and I did some more climbing, this time on grades of 13 percent.

Only two cars passed me the whole time. This was a lonely stretch of road.

Had a flat about half-way up. (Number 6 for this trip.) Put on a new tire as well as tube and kept going. More fog hit as I reached the top.

Every once in awhile, a break in the clouds would come and I could see down into the valley.

The Kiamichi valley is spectacular, especially with all the wisps of low floating clouds running up against forest green mountains of pine sprinkled with light green hardwoods.

The day was physically exhausting. Back-breaking climbs combined with cold, pounding rains left me weak.

Darkness fell before I made the Arkansas border. I wasn’t afraid of cars because of their infrequency, so I kept on going till I got to Queen Wilhelmina State Park. I had to quit looking forward for awhile. The painted stripes appearing out of the darkness and fog were trying to play games with my mind. I kept my view downward at the pavement.

I found a campsite near some Winnebagos. I pitched the tent, still wet from the night before, tossed the sleeping bag inside along with a sweater, jeans and food, and crawled inside.

All I wanted was to be warm and prone.

Just after climbing inside, a storm hit. Winds of magnitude force and searing rains battered my tent. The arch of the tent poles was forced downward to the point that the tent ceiling was touching my chest. I was scared at first. I’m rarely scared. And then I said to Hell with it! If I die tonight, I die.

Within 10 or 15 minutes, the end of the sleeping bag and tent were soaked as well as my feet. I slept with my knees doubled up. I woke several times from their stiffness.

I’m told a tornado passed over us last night. The wind was terrific with lightning splashing all about. At times, I thought the whole tent would be swept away.

This morning, the sun snuck out for about an hour. I had everything out and hung up trying to get things half-way dry when the fog rolled back across the mountain. I packed everything soaking wet onto the bike and struck out for Mena. Rain started falling within minutes. I came down off the mountain dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, and stopped at a visitors center just west of Mena.

The caretaker there talked to me a little about pacifism, brutality to animals, and the fact that some humans seemed less than human, and then said: “Of course, you know we’re not descended from apes.”

I cruised on into Mena, found a laundromat, and washed and dried everything save what I was wearing.

A kid, maybe 4 or 5 years old, came up and asked me if I were saved and whether I had Jesus in my heart. Strange. Got the laundry done. Packed the bike, and a man, about 55 or 60, strolled over and asked me where I was headed. Then he talked to me about his experiences in Japan and Korea.

He told me about going in after the bodies of the dead. And of being captured. And of how some of his friends had been killed.

This town is a little off base. Know what I mean. I rode out of there east along the Ouachita River and have stopped at Dragover Recreational Area for the evening. Sunny skies all afternoon and a wind at my back made the traveling wonderful.

The Ouachita is rolling. I’m told it rose 8 feet today from all the rain that has been falling on me.

Last note, I stopped at the Jot-Em-Down General Store at Pine Ridge, Ark., made famous by the Lum and Abner radio show of the 30s and 40s. I’ll have to go back sometime just to look at all the memorabilia.

Across the Red River

The hill country of the Ouachitas.

May 1, 1984

The next morning I rose early. The rear wheel on my bike needed truing something horrible. After about a half hour of adjusting spokes, I had it fairly near straight.

I also ran some oil through the chain and took out some of the squeak created by Sunday’s rain.

Riding was fairly nice Monday. Not much wind to speak of. I took it easy all day long and still made Clarkesville fairly early.

Stayed at the AOK Motel and walked up the highway to the Pizza Hut for dinner.

My ride that day took me through such noteworthy cities as Paris, Reno and Detroit.

From Clarkesville, I have come north into Oklahoma to Beaver’s Bend State Park. It’s a pretty state park located near Broken Bow.

I watched all day as first cirrus, then stratocumulus, and then cumulonimbus clouds slowly crept in from the south. I knew it would rain.

As soon as I got into the park, I pitched the tent, covered the bike with tarp and headed for the showers. While I was bathing, the rain began. I’ve since taken refuge in a small picnic shelter to write and think about life.

Headed Back North

Mary and Charlie at Turtle Creek in Dallas, Texas.

April 29, 1984

I am back to Bonham State Park after a wonderful weekend at the Denton’s home in Dallas. I cannot express my excitement at getting to see Mary again.

Mary is one of my favorite kids from Kamp, if not my favorite. I stayed in their guest house Friday and Saturday nights.

Friday evening, she and Laurie Bennett took me out to dinner. Wonderful time.

Saturday afternoon, Mary and I went to Lee Creek and flannisons la boulevard. We also stopped to feed the ducks for a bit and spend some quality time talking.
I am amazed sometimes, almost taken aback, by how much she reminds me of me at her age.

She is truly a sweet gal and a dear friend.

Saturday evening, Mary had a birthday party to attend, so Mrs. Denton and I got to spend the evening together. I had such an enjoyable time talking with and listening to her.

She’s quite a woman. I can see why Mary has become so strong in character.

I didn’t get to spend much time with Mr. Denton and Michael. I regret that. They had a campout for the weekend.

Sunday morning, I didn’t much want to say goodbye. Every once in awhile, you have one of those farewells where your eyes well up and a mile-wide lump tugs inside your throat and it is all you can do to keep from losing your calm. Saying “See you later” to Mary was that way for me. I don’t think she noticed it in me, but I will miss her smile, even her early morning smile.

I am headed toward home again. I am bicycling without quite as much incentive as before.

A hazy, foggy looking dust storm in Texas made the horizon fade away.

Today was strange to say the least. Rain in the morning, which later turned into the strangest fog. I thought that it looked like a dust storm. Only, no dust blew in your eyes or against your cheeks.

I also had a flat that just wouldn’t take patches. I worked forever trying to get it to hold air.

Anyway, I made it to Bonham and have time to write and also walk down to the lakeside. Bonham is a romantic state park. Time for sleep!

Through Southeast Oklahoma

April 26, 1984

The ride south from Lee Creek to Talimena State Park was relatively uneventful. Lots of wind and then the Ouachita Mountains at the end of the day left me fairly beat.

I was really looking forward to a shower at the state park, but alas, they had no water. That also meant little to drink.

I did have the wonderful opportunity to talk with a woman who was a member of Loners on Wheels. She had just returned from three months in Mexico where she and two other friends had driven their RVs down to the Yucatan.

She was encouraging to hear. Their group had only minor problems while south of the border. It gives me more desire to ride from Alaska to Chile.

Charlie at Bonham State Park.

Anyway, from Talimena, I rode down to Antler where I grabbed a room at the AOK Motel. Cost a bit too much, but I needed a bath!

Fought fierce winds again out of the south. Followed an abandoned rail bed for 20 or 30 miles; thought it would make a marvelous bike path.

From Antlers, I rode down to Bonham State Park in Texas, only 65-70 miles from Dallas. Tried to get lost several times, between the map and my stubbornness, I almost ended up nowhere.

But I am here nonetheless.

A Quick Trip Through Kamp

April 23, 1984

Well, I have some catching up to do. Indeed, I did take the Peel Ferry across Bull Shoals on the 19th. From there I made my way over to Forsythe and then to Kanakuk. Joe passed me in a van on Lakeshore Drive. And as soon as I came in the gate, Kris C. was the first face I saw. Coops got me a place to stay at the Doulos House. He and Bill G., brother of Preston G., were going riding at 5 p.m. Bill will be working at Wild this summer during first term. So I spent some time talking to him.

Riding the Peel Ferry across Bull Shoals Lake to the Missouri side.

The evening ride was good, but hard on me. We rode out through Hollister to U.S. 65 then nearly out to where 86 intersects and then back to Kamp. Oohwee, was I hurting.

I stayed at Kamp the next day and visited during the day and also ran into Branson to get a replacement for a screw that had come loose and some duct tape to mend my foot strap.

That evening, we threw a surprise birthday party for Jeanie Staples. Cakes, chips and homemade ice cream, that yours truly cranked, made life a feast for me.

I also got to talk to Spike that evening as well as in the afternoon. We talked a lot about his adventures in Alaska floating some of the rivers and traveling along the Al-Can Highway. I told him of my plans to bicycle from Anchorage to Santiago. He found a book about a guy who drove from Venezuela down to Tierra del Fuego back in the early 40s, and gave me it for inspiration.

Spike’s quite a man.

Anyway, from Kamp I rode down to Fayetteville in one day. I was hurting by the time I got to Fayetteville. Managed to end up with three flats on the day. They always come when you’re trying to make distance.

Stayed at home Sunday. Went to see Swing Shift with Beth R. It starred Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.

I enjoyed it. Had some pretty good music too.

And now I’m back on the road. Cruised from Fayetteville down to Lee Creek Park [no longer maintained] near Van Buren to spend the night. The ride down was pretty good. I didn’t much enjoy riding along Highway 71, but there was less traffic than I expected.

North to Bull Shoals

Getting ready to ford the Buffalo National River at the Hasty low-water bridge.

April 18, 1984

What a beautiful day. But I’m jumping the gun. Last night was bitterly cold. I woke many times. When I got out at about 7:30, I found frost all over the tent. I hung the tent from a tree to let it thaw and dry out as much as possible. As Andy Furman would say, “It was butt cold!”

I took my time packing. Then it was a quick ride to Hasty Low Water bridge. The river was flowing about a foot above the road bed so I took off my socks and shoes and waded the bike across.

Oowee, the water was cold on my feetsies.

Anyway, the route took me north past Western Grove and Everton. From Everton to Eros, I rode on about four miles of dirt. It was a nice change of pace. But four miles was enough. I caught U.S. 62 east to Summit, had lunch there, and then meandered north to Highway 125 Recreational Area. It’s located on a point extending into Bull Shoals Lake. Quite a nice campground all in all. No showers, but that’s life.

A man came over earlier this evening from a camper. He and his wife were headed to Lansing, Mich., but had stopped to do some fishing here.

Tomorrow, I take the Peel Ferry across the lake to Missouri. Think I may have burned a bit today. Will have to watch it tomorrow.

Buffalo River Country

Evening, April 17, 1984

Evening has found me at Hasty Campground rather than at Carver. About the same distance. Hasty is more secluded than Carver, so here I am.

The ride over was fairly nice. The climb out of the Buffalo River valley onto Mount Sherman was a good warm up for the day.

I enjoyed seeing all those familiar places at a slower pace.

I stopped at Jasper for lunch. A woman who bicycled from Fayetteville to Ozark talked with me for a few moments. I took lunch behind the Newton County Courthouse and in the shade of the gazebo there.

Deep into the Ozarks

Morning, April 17, 1984

Off on another tour, I’ve come to rest at Lost Valley Campground near the Buffalo River. I had intended to bicycle as far as Withrow Springs State Park yesterday.

But I reached Huntsville from Fayetteville by about 1 p.m. So I said why not go for it.

Fayetteville to the Buffalo National River is full of nasty hills. Either I’m severely out of shape or those were 15 percent grades.

Probably both. Also came through rain in the morning and a hard, sharp, cold wind all day.

Last night, the clouds cleared away and temperatures dropped considerably. The people camping next to me had water that froze.

Today, though, the sky is beautiful blue. Should make Carver by the evening.

Anyway I hope, too.