Riding the White Line

2007 Tour

View 2007 Bicycle Tour in a larger map

The 2007 Tour started off from Fayetteville, Arkansas, aimed toward the East Coast, sort of a silver anniversary tour to finish the coast-to-coast ride I started in 1982. If I went all the way to Jacksonville, Florida, the trip would have been about 1,000 miles long. When I got to the far side of Mississippi, though, I decided I had ridden far enough. The tour ended up being about 462 miles long.

You can either use the links above to thumb through the journal entries or go to a specific entry by clicking a link below.

ARKANSAS
Bon Voyage, sort of
A Prologue
Down the Pigtrail
Second Thoughts
An All-Day Soak
Little Rockin'
Riding along U.S. 64 near Hartman (VIDEO)
Swimming in the Deep End
Delta Dog
Delta Heritage Trail (VIDEO)
MISSISSIPPI
Narrow Highways and Friendly Backroads
The Oxford Tale
The Hound of Yocona
Quarter-Century Remainders
An Epilogue

Follow this link for daily stats on my 2007 Tour.

Calf Creek, Dog Trots and Snowball

October 20, 1994

Awoke early to find the moon setting amid patchy fog and wispy clouds, an unbelievably pretty morning.

I packed up early and set off on my bicycle trip for the day. The loop ran up the Tyler Bend paved road to an old road that led slowly to Snowball.

The road plunged down into the valley of Calf Creek, crossed a small pasture in the bottoms and then the dry ford of Calf Creek. Then it began up a slow grade along more pasture land. I scared up one deer.

After a couple miles, the road hit a steep climb that kept me breathing hard and fighting furiously to keep traction on the leafy, wet road. At the top, though, I was rewarded with a view of the river from Peter Cave Bluff. Upriver, I could see four buzzards, standing tall on the limbs of a dead tree and stretching their wings full out to catch the morning sun and warm.

I could have hung out there all day, just watching the river roll by.

The view was a 180-degree panorama from Point Peter Mountain on the west to Blue Bluff and Red Bluff in the east. The only trace of humanity was the cultivated fields of the valley.

Back on the bike, I headed north and west toward Snowball. After a couple miles of woods, I came out on farm fields and occasionally passed old farmhouses built of logs with tin roofs.

After one minor wrong turn, I headed north along the farm roads, passing chimneys left as tombstones above the remains of a fallen homestead. A dozen buildings still remain in Snowball. The general store is open if you’ll walk to the house in back and ask.

The route becomes pavement for awhile as it follows Arkansas 74 from Calf Creek to Granny’s Creek.

A county dirt road leads south from there back toward Silver Hill. The road hit several steep patches on the way back, and I managed to take a wrong path that led over an even steeper pitch.

But it came back down into a beautiful valley before hitting 74 again near the intersection with U.S. 65. I followed 65 back to Tyler Bend, more than a little worried about traffic.

Touring by Mountain Bike

October 19, 1994

A wonderful one-day ride in the Buffalo River country. I drove over to Tyler Bend Campground on a Wednesday to ride a circuit recommended in the book Mountain Bike Routes of the Ozarks.

On arriving at the campground, I pitched camp and then headed out for a short hike before nightfall. A light rain began as I entered the forest, hiking along the Spring Hollow Trail and came out at the Sod Collier homestead just as the rain stopped. A rainbow appeared in the east and, somehow, the old homestead seemed to be young again.

The house was a dog-trot that had been closed in. The kitchen and fireplace were in the center. A picket fence surrounds the house and an outbuilding. Inside the house, tatters of newspaper and magazines still clung to the walls, the last remains of a dubious insulation. The papers included the weekly Kansas City Star, circa 1930s.

A path led to a crib down the way and then on to the River View Trail and Collier Bluff. Along the way, I scared up several wild turkeys, which went scurrying and fluttering through the forest. At the river view, I could see downstream to Tyler Bluff, upstream to the confluence of Calf Creek and far upstream to Fish Trap Bluff.

The canopy of sycamores, sweet gums and cottonwoods were turning yellow and gold. Below, the river ran slow after a long dry spell.

On the walk back, rain kicked up again and I stopped at the visitor center to stand under a big oak tree and escape the rain. The visitor center was already closed. Acorns plodded down each time the wind picked up. Another rainbow appeared just as the sun began setting.

During the night, a full moon slipped out from between the clouds until about 2 in the morning. When rain returned and I fell asleep soundly.

Notes about this weekend's ride are continued at Calf Creek, Dogtrots and Snowball.

Finishing in Fine Form

October 15, 1993

The end is near. But I’m ahead of myself again. Leaving Camden, I followed old Highway 7. It runs two-lane fairly near the new four-lane Highway 7, but it had no traffic and was delightful for morning riding.

I also took a minor detour through Smackover on Business 7. It’s a pretty community, nice little downtown with a four-way stoplight in the middle of the intersection.

After Smackover, the ride was quick into El Dorado. My average jumped up to 9.9 miles per hour. I was hoping to get it above 10 mph, but I’ll settle for the 9.9 mph.

I found a hotel room near the bus station and, pretty quickly, a big box to hold the bike for the bus trip. I’m packed, I guess, and ready for the trip back home tomorrow.

I’m still not aware that the week is over.

I’m not sure what I’ve learned this week. Certainly, it’s been nice to see the whole highway, the whole stretch of Arkansas. I’ve not visited this southern area except when passing through to New Orleans. It is prettier than I expected. But it is a very different world than the one to which I am accustomed.

The Scenic "Non-Scenic" Highway 7

Charlie checking the map along Highway 7 in Dallas County.

October 14, 1993

The legs are coming together. I dropped out of the Ouachitas at Arkadelphia and have hit the flat Gulf Coastal Plain.

The “scenic” designation for Arkansas 7 also got dropped officially at Arkadelphia, but it has been quite pretty, all the same.

The trees created a tunnel in places along the way. And to make up for the loss of shoulder, the traffic dropped off to nothing. Tomorrow may be different; the traffic between El Dorado and Camden looks to be heavier if the double lines on the map are any indicator.

The flat riding has worn on me. I had to stand up in the saddle often to stretch the legs and arms. But it has meant an increase in my average speed. It has crept up all day from 9.3 mph this morning to 9.8 mph now.

Wonderful little half-forgotten towns along the way — Griffithtown, Dalark, Ouachita, Amy and Sparkman, the latter in which I made my first wrong turn, or didn’t, as it happened. Coming into Sparkman, I stopped for something to snack on. This, as it happened, was at an intersection where Arkansas 7 took a right and Arkansas 128 continued straight on through. When I came back with my snack, I proceeded straight along for about a half mile before deciding the shadows on the road were in the wrong place. I turned around and spotted the intersection quickly.

I called Mom tonight to see how Grandmother was doing. Chris had told me that Grandmother took a fall and broke her nose. She’s doing well except for a black eye. It makes trips like this seem frivolous.I need to make some changes in everything. It will not be easy.

Two Dollars on Schwinn to Win

Writing in the journal at DeGray Lake State Park.

October 13, 1993

The morning has brought a sumptuous breakfast, and a short stay in the hot tub will put me off in good steed.

An eventful day. After dithering around at the Arlington for as long as I could. I checked out and rode down to the National Park Headquarters. Hot Springs must have been a much funner place at times.

Afterwards, I rode south past the horse track, keeping an eye out for a laundromat. The first one I saw was closed on Wednesdays. Bummer. The next one was just about to the city’s edge, but it was open. Just about the time laundry was done, a light rain began to fall. I repacked the clean clothes with an eye toward keeping everything dry.

Back on the road, the rain persisted most of the early afternoon, very light, though. I didn’t even bother to pull on the rain shell. I did pull off the road more often to let folks pass. Plus a section between Lake Hamilton and Bismarck had no shoulder.

Chris holding Jazz.

Just after Bismarck, I got my first flat of the trip. (And last I hope.) A flake of quartz or ammonite ran through the tire like an arrowhead. Soon it was patched and I was back on the road again. And now I am to DeGray Lake State Park. It’s a lovely place, but I miss Chris.

Certainly, this will be my last solo bike tour. I need companionship much more now than I did six years ago, and I needed it a lot then.

Have I told you about Chris. She is like a fine porcelain figurine. Her soft complexion and slender figure lend themselves to descriptions like “statuesque.” She is so solid and yet so fragile at times. I love every little contradiction within her, every sigh, every nuance of being.

The Arlington at Hot Springs

The Arlington Hotel

October 12, 1993

I have arrived. But that’s getting ahead of the story.

When I got out this morning, the stray dog, Stog, was nowhere to be seen. I had heard him as late as a half-hour before getting out of the bag.

Well, I went about morning chores: Fix the oatmeal, eat grapes, begin packing up. I went to wash out my pan and along came Stog. I tried to let him lick the pan but he passed on the oatmeal. Of course, then he followed me back over to the campsite. The poor dog doesn’t want food nearly as much as someone to take care of him.

I pulled out at about 9:30 and had to leave four or five cookies to keep Stog from following.

Within a mile, I had the jacket off. I even pulled off the shirt for awhile. After a couple hard mountains, the road began to follow the streams. At times, the pains in the shoulders and knees almost disappeared. I sang songs.

Iron Spring

The footbridge on the walking trail to the spring.

Lunch time, I stopped at Iron Springs, a small picnic area on the southern edge of Ouachita National Forest. Then it was straight on for Hot Springs. The traffic after Hot Springs Village began to pick up a lot. I pulled off many times to let trucks and RVs pass.

Now I’m at the Arlington and paying the lion’s share of my budget for the pleasure. I went over to Magees and got a great cheeseburger and Cajun fries.

Did I forget to mention the shower?!

A phone call home to my sweetie made the evening complete. It was so good to hear her voice, hear the dogs in the background and know home really isn’t that far.

Hill and Dale

October 11, 1993

Long day. I’m beat. Emotions flutter. My knees ache. It is an average third day of trip.

Fog rose from the Ozark hollows as the rain began to let up.

I started in the rain-drenched Ozark Mountains and ended in the sun-soaked Ouachitas. The morning was a pain. More up and down, though mostly down after the Ozark National Forest boundary. But worse, I had no shoulder until Dover. Not an outrageous amount of traffic except for some hot-tar dumptrucks making runs between Russellville and a section of road near Lurton.

I packed the tent and rain fly wet. We had a good rain sometime during the night. The only good thing about Fairview was that it did have water.

It was cold going in the morning. I was bundled up till about an hour into the ride. I thought about stopping at Booger Hollow Trading Post to warm up, but knew I didn’t have the time. Booger Holler has a sign about once a mile with cute sayings: “Public privy,” “set a spell,” and “population 10 counten two coon dogs.”

After Dover, I picked up shoulder about eight-feet wide. I was much relieved. The road also flattened out a lot as I entered the Arkansas River valley. I made Russellville by about 12:30 p.m. and tried calling Chris, hoping she would be at home to let the dogs out. No luck.

Dardanelle Rock overlooking the muddy Arkansas River.

After lunch, I crossed the Arkansas River to Dardanelle and cruised out on shoulder that’s back to about two feet at most.

I’ve definitely hit the Ouachitas, and I’m not liking it at all. Highway 7 climbed up a steep mountain just past Ola [Ola Mountain]. I had to stop many times for water breaks. Pretty view from the top, but my god, how I hurt.

Coming down off the mountain though, I hit a new personal speed record of 40 miles per hour. Then I had to break pretty hard to make it through a 25 mile per hour hairpin curve!

Anyway, my journeys have brought me to Nimrod Lake Park, Corps of Engineers. Empty except for an RV and a purple and aqua bus parked at the other end.

Highway 7 crosses the Fourche la Fave River just downstream of Lake Nimrod.

No showers. I’m totally bummed. So I made my way down to the Fourche la Fave River and had my way with a wash clothe. [The park had showers at another camping area.] This is a beautiful park, with tall pines, a view from the dam site, and a stray dog.

It’s some kind of hound mix. I already fed it my leftovers from dinner. Now I’m its friend for life.

I’m going to crawl in the tent now. Aside from knotted knees, I’ve also got a runny nose and a needle tuck in the middle of my shoulder blades.

How I miss Chris and the dogs. This will likely be my last real tour. Certainly this will be my last tour through the Ouachitas. I can think of nothing so miserable.

Ah, but tomorrow ... Hot Springs!

Climbing Out of the Valley

At left, Scenic Highway 7 climbs out of the Arkansas Grand Canyon.

October 10, 1993

I’m stopped for a rest at the scenic view above Jasper, elevation 2,169, or 1,414 feet above the Buffalo River valley. In effect, that’s the amount I climbed this morning. I had an early lunch in Jasper, then spent 3.5 miles climbing to here. Onward.
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The ride today has been beautiful but grueling. The clouds disappeared during the night and blue skies greeted me. I took the morning slow, knowing I had a short day ahead.

The Little Buffalo River near Jasper.

The ride out of Ozark kicked my butt. It was very steep for much of the ascent and all of it graded dirt. It was a harbinger of things to come.

Once I hit Highway 7 again, the ride into Jasper was quick. I stopped at a scenic overlook just before Jasper to shoot pictures of the Little Buffalo and Arkansas Highway 74. Hope they turn out. I stopped at Bob’s Supercenter. Got some cottage cheese, bananas and Chips Ahoy cookies. Hah! I coasted on down into town and ate at the gazebo behind the county courthouse.

It was a pleasant Sunday morning. Then the climb up to the aforementioned scenic overlook. I wrote a couple post cards there, shot lots of photos and then headed south again. I stopped at two more scenic overlooks along the way. I’m not sure what valley I was looking into, but I’ll find a map at home that says.

My campsite at Fairview Campground.

A sign along the way said: “Drive carefully, next 37 miles winding and steep.” It was right. I rode into Fairview quite sore from all the hills. Soon off the bike I felt chilled, and hurried my evening rituals as a result. I did take time to wash off the grit and grime of the day. Dr. Bronner’s Miracle Soap and a water pump made quick work of most of the sweat and salt.

As soon as dinner was done, I jumped into the tent and warmed up in the sleeping bag. I feel much better now. The muscles are still sore, but I’m warm.

The blue skies have given way to a few clouds and a few spatters of rain. Until tomorrow, good night.

Huzzahs from the RV Types

Highway 7 crosses the Buffalo National River at Pruitt.

October 9, 1993

The day has passed quickly. I awoke early — 6:30 — not a nice time of the morning for someone used to going to sleep at 1 a.m. and arising at a quarter past nine. I went back to sleep after stepping outside the tent to pee.

It was frigid when I finally got up and got going. All the RV types were up taking their morning walks around the park. Everyone said, “Hi, hope you’re headed southeast!”

“Well, south, at least,” I would reply.

One woman asked when I would have the ham and eggs ready. I was busy keeping my hands warm around the stove and blocking the wind. “Only oatmeal this morning.”

“Well, I like oatmeal too,” she said. She seemed a fun person.

Charlie riding along Scenic Highway 7 a little north of Lead Hill.

After breakfast, I packed and hit the road by about 9:30. I left the Winnebagos, Road Rambler trailers, the Prowler fifth-wheelers behind and headed south with a cold nor’easter pushing me along.

The road was narrow to Lead Hill, but luckily short on cars. After Lead Hill, I picked up a two- to three-foot shoulder, a nice margin of safety for the sharp hills and winding stretches.

I was into Harrison just about 11:30 and ate at the Townhouse Cafe on the square. The local talk was about how Mike had taken $2,000 worth of tools out of Jerry’s truck and hidden them. Jerry thinks they’ve been stolen. This is Jerry’s way of learning the value of tools and how easy they can be taken from the bed of a pickup.

I finish my BLT and fries, pick up a flashlight next door and hit the road again. I passed the Boone County Caravan Spring at about 2 p.m. The shoulder is still good and welcome after passing Crooked Creek and heading into the Buffalo River watershed.

The road meanders back and forth. As I near Dogpatch, the hillside drops 40 feet to the stony bottom of Mill Creek. I pass Dogpatch and not long afterward the spot where the marble was cut to be used as Arkansas’s contribution to the Washington Monument. Then on to the steel girder bridge over the Buffalo National River. I stop and try to call Chris from the Ranger’s Station. No luck.

The campsite at Ozark Campground with fire ready.

I debated whether to go downstream to Welch Bluff or up over to Ozark Campground. I finally decided on Ozark since it had a phone. I may regret it tomorrow morning. I didn’t remember just how steep the hill is coming down into here. But I’m here. And I’ve bundled together a ton of wood to build a campfire tonight.

I miss Chris and the dogs already. Last night when I lay down to sleep, I cried. Partly for missing Chris and partly for missing Mom, but partly too for all the people whom I haven’t seen in years.