The last day lingering about north central Arkansas stood out as mostly
overcast, with temperatures generally in the low 20s °C. A visit to the
familiar Woolly Hollow seemed the best course of action for the late
morning. It was not supposed to rain. However, the weather can
often have a mind of its own. 5 km along an 8 km hike it decided
to dump its load of cold and windy on the vicinity. Without a canopy,
there was nowhere to turn. The whole instance only lasted about 10 minutes,
just sufficient to soak all the way through and make the remainder of the
journey rather squishy.
Prior to the deluge, there were multiple opportunities to enjoy solitude among the forest, contemplating things larger than life itself.
The rain turned out as a mostly isolated incident too, having no impact on plans for the evening. The skies cleared up
again, temperatures returned to a relatively normal state, and the Spring
Nationals at Batesville Motor Speedway went off exactly as planned.
As is the usual habit, a visit to the Mossy Bluff set the day in perspective
and offered up a little time for reflection. The sky and colors all
seemed exaggerated, from the tiniest bug to the tallest tree. It was a
beautiful day to just linger about the forest, under mostly clear skies, with
temperatures hovering in the mid-teens Celsius.
The cascade was percolating along too. It ensured a long visit just
doing nothing but listening to the sound of the water passing along, making
its way down to the Little Red River. It whispered the necessity of not
forgetting my friend the Sugar Loaf, and so a jog down that trail followed
shortly after.
After making the rounds visiting these two friends, our party convened for a
trip up to Batesville to enjoy some over-cooked steak and salmon from
Colton's. We did not realize until it was too late, that the last time
we were there, they got it wrong then too. They did fix it, but the
experience is one that likely will not be forgotten. How any cook in his
right mind can try and pass off a well-done steak as medium rare remains a
point of confusion. Nobody died, so there is that.
Returning back along our charted course, we returned to Batesville Motor Speedway, which is actually in Locust Grove, for a sneak peek at events to come in the following evening. It was not really planned that way, it just worked out as much. The flyer was not very specific, suggested that racing would be happening all three nights. At the last minute, we discovered on the old interwebs that Thursday was actually "Open Practice." Entry turned out to be completely free, so the mistake cost nothing more than having to return the following evening for the real deal.
While the endless distractions available in Branson no doubt hold their own special level of intrigue, more interesting things lay ahead for the second half of this road adventure. In very little time, two lanes unfolded to a calmer, quieter and inarguably, more scenic view from the road.
The western portion of the Buffalo National River complex hosts more waterfalls and cascades you can shake a stick at. Most are generally inaccessible without some measure, often considerable, effort towards bushwhacking. Those located within Broadwater Hollow demand very little beyond traversing 3 km of occasionally rough gravel and dirt road, and less than a half kilometer hike along a well-traveled path. Paige Falls kick off this sequence of cascades, of which a detailed investigation could easily consume an entire day. That will need to wait for a more dedicated inquiry though. Mid-afternoon was not the time. Covering a half kilometer or so of the situation and taking some out time to chat with other visitors, the mission quickly turned back to the next planned objective.
Skirting along the edge of Ponca Wilderness enabled opportunity to make a deal at the JB Trading Post, exchange paper for ice cream and gatorade, then pausing again for a quick inquiry towards the status of the elk at the Ponca Nature Center. None were readily available for viewing, so we pushed on, arriving at the trailhead for Hammerschmidt falls in no time. Almost no time. It took a moment, and a detour down into Dewey Cove, to figure out that the trailhead was actually just across the street from "parking." Once that became apparent, the half-kilometer trail flowed easily through more of the most beautiful spring scenery in the country and other junk.
These waterfalls likely offer quite a spectacular plunge 13 meters over the edge of the rock cliff, in wetter times. The flow proved mostly insignificant on this date. While those in Broadwater Hollow seemed to flow easily enough with ample hydration, continuing dry times across much of the northern tier of the Ozark plateau has forced many waterfalls to simply cut back or completely turn off the tap.
A lack of plans for the day left things to occur as random as they possibly could have been, and improvisation, the call of the day.
Somehow or another, the decision was made to investigate the Butterfly Palace. While this was definitely not the usual effort, my comrade simply adores the lepidopterans. The irony of this particular reverence is that most other six-legged critters in the same class are held in utter contempt.
Butterflies were not the only point of interest at this location though. A carefully manicured collection of a few of their natural enemies also lived in the palace. However, they were neatly segregated to the lower floor of the establishment.
Prior to engaging with the ruling species, we were offered a brief documentary enlightening us on the life cycle of their Monarch. Attendance was not required but seemed a reasonable request, and we learned a little from that 3D adventure. After, we were immediately ushered into presence chamber area. It was quite balmy, though the air seemed not quite as saturated with moisture as winged metamorphic beasts flitting in every direction. Special lures were provided to attract them, though it hardly seemed necessary. It proved nearly impossible to avoid them.
Reflecting on the excursion later, it stood as one of the more enjoyable moments of the journey in the last few days. The cost seemed a little excessive, though that is the general standard for all attractions in the world of Branson. If one were not overcharged, they might feel compelled to protest. The troops would be called in, and things might get ugly.
Lacking any sort of plan for the morning and looking to get out in the sunshine a little, a trip out of the melee known as Branson led to a trip across a nearby glade.
It had been noted the previous day, having stopped at the overlook for a moment, to gaze out across this 1,534-acre establishment of oak and hickory. Further research uncovered a few trails of interest, in particular a 3 km jaunt across associated glades, down into the dry bed of Roark Creek and back again.
The hike across the glade is relatively easy but could become quite hot in the summer months, with little cover beyond that offered down in the creek bed. This spring morning it warmed up considerably, even though temperatures were only around 15 °C. A return trip later in the evening found similar temperatures along a paved path leading to the lookout.
The glades and other features within the Ruth and Paul Henning Conservation Area are forever preserved in literature through the Harold Wright book, "Shepherd of the Hills." However, American TV producer and screenwriter Paul Henning and his wife Ruth took things a step further, ensuring preservation for all those that came after, establishing this conservation area just on the outskirts of Branson. His creation, the Beverly Hillbillies, and associated work on Green Acres, and Petticoat Junction likely inspired the effort too.
Spring cooled down only a little over Branson, offering up some of the best weather for a hiking. It is unusual to find a remote spot like Lakeside Forest Wilderness Area buried in the middle of any town. This is especially true in this weird little anomaly standing at the crossroads of entertainment district and carnival.
The 140 acres associated with this space offers escape for those less interested in the uproar occurring on and around Missouri Highway 76. Approximately 8 kilometers of trails pass through the surrounding bluff that doubles as a sound barrier, down next to Lake Taneycomo and adjacent bottomlands.
An array of colors splash across an otherwise empty hardwood landscape, prior to its filling in with foliage for the season. Conversely, in the depths of late summer into fall, it is likely a poison ivy laden brothel for ticks and other similar enemies of the state.
While generally an easy hike, it is important to understand that if 315 steps of the stone staircase is not addressed immediately, they wait patiently for the end of any journey. The only option is return 3 kilometers back along the path accessing this point.
This little stroll through the forest is only occasionally disrupted by refuge marking the passage of less considerate humans. That is to be expected this close to the parade route. Intersecting a few minor caves, a waterfall that was bone dry on this date, the trail eventually leads to a resurrected 1934 homestead built with some of the same fieldstones as the staircase. Apparently, they had more than enough.
Blue skies dominated cooler temperatures than had been experienced in the last
several days the first day out on the road today. The main goal would
take as long to reach as it would to travel straight through to the final
destination for the evening. However, it offered an infinitely more
interesting view of the world.
Very little has changed on the Glade Top Trail National Forest Scenic Byway since the Civilian Conservation Corp constructed this gravel road back
in the 1930s. Tracing ridge tops as high 150 meters above the Mark Twain
National Forest, it offers up some spectacular views of southern Missouri.
Previous journeys passed by the western most terminus of this trail several
times, continuously building interest in traversing said route. There
never seemed to be time to make the 37-meter trek though, or the transport was
not well-suited to the occasion. All seemed well-planned for in this
particular investigation, excepting a faulty camera mount. That one
point proved sufficient to completely foil the attempt to capture an
uninterrupted view of the route.
It did not stand sufficient to disrupt the intent of this diversion though.
Monster trucks hauling their payload through the route almost achieved that
goal. However, peace and a little walkabout at Wolf Junction set things in
perspective. The remainder of the journey unfolded without incident,
ending abruptly at the trailhead where we first met.
The latest line of nonsense from our lawncare service neighbor, their using the property for materials distribution. Four truckloads of gravel were delivered yesterday, most of which was hauled off to another location, likely one client or another.
Out and wandering about the woods again today with the old camera. It seems to take much better photos than the phone, even though they are technically the very same megapixel. It just not the same. Photos on the phone always seem to lack a certain clarity.
That was not the goal today though. The primary objective was to simply get out and crunch through the fresh snow, listen to it and the ice crunch underfoot. Included in that, a little slogging through the mud. Even that was ok. Above is the only evidence of the adventure.
