Leaving Little Rock was bittersweet.

I left the library in downtown Little Rock and began heading out of the vacinity of downtown, when I decided to doub check the directions Google had recommended for leaving Little Rock.  I asked a guy looking like he just left work on his lunch break, the fellows name was Troy Cook.  He recommended that I change a couple of things on Google directions for scenery and since I was also looking for food, I stop in the Little Rock River Market.  I took his advice and found a little shop that sold me the most delicious chickpea wrap, it was delicious, healthy and hit the spot while I was moving.  To leave I crossed an old railroad bridge that had been converted into a walk way, it crossed over the Arkansas River.

   Once I crossed the bridge I followed the river walkway for somewhere around 10 miles crossing paths with a mural, an old retired quarry, beautiful scenery and many bicyclists.  One part of the mural I really liked was this shiloette of a couple walking holding hands, it appears as those they are in the sun as the butterfly is shadowed by a near by tree.

 I progressed down the river walk which traversed through a golf coarse and boat launches till I decided to ask another person if he knew where these apparent directions, with a little extra feedback, were leading me.  Tom was his name and he recommended that I head back about a half mile and following a couple of various roads that should lead me to where I need to me.  I followed Tom's advice and found my way over to the Burns Park Visitor center about  30 minutes after they closed.  I meandered around to ask some people that were near by if they had any idea where I was heading from here and none of the them were able to help me.  This was all taking place as a wicked storm was developing over head.  I sat down under the over hang of the visitors center and began to make my dinner as the storm opened the heavens to rain fury down upon the lands.  I looked to the left of me and there was a section of information, with maps that almost seemed hidden in plain sight and sure enough it was exactly the information I needed.  As night crept up on the day a guy with a semi sour look and a little dog, grimly circled my location seeming unpleased that I would choose to sit under the overhang of the visitor's center, down playing the severity of the storm that just passed.  I had that feeling of being unwanted by a fellow human being that had no idea of me, my journey or seemingly the with the look I was given humanity itself.  This was not the only time I was vaguely harrassed in this location, though it has been the only time I have been harrassed on this journey.  As anyone who has done a long hike knows, you smell, look pretty rough and often stay or camp in places not suitable to most, with exception of maybe the homeless.  So ok I decided it was late enough and I wasn't going to be able to find a suitable location where camping was going to be acceptable, I laid out my sleeping bag and slept right there.  Around ten that evening a fellow coming stumbling on over beer in hand with his young son and little dog in tow, complaining of the hotels not allowing dogs.  Then telling me that at first he mistook me for homeless, I didn't take it as an insult, really I think my first thought was, well Jesus was homeless.  So the mistake I let pass, though that was the second, yet not final time I was harassed in this location.  The final time was actually by the paper guy, who through the paper at the same time I was packing my gear up, he said, "Who's down there?" To which I responded, "Uh, me?"  The he retortsm, "That paper isn't for you, it's for them."  And I say, "Uh, yeah."  Needless to say these moments were certainly not the kind of random acts that one actually encounters in life, more like moments of sour people pouring out their grief with the world on someone who has little to nothing to do with them, sigh, pray for them and their misunderstandings.  I left the park as the moon was still plenty bright lighting the westward direction before me, with the help of the map I had acquired from the helpful visitor center's information station.

Little Rock fell in the distance as I moved towards a little town that I breezed through with the help of a retired soldier named Tony.  He told me of the service that he had done for the country, that they no longer called him up for duty.  His last tour of duty left him with a mortal wound and his heart had stopped.  He shared the same wisdom that I knew I was blessed with, that I wasn't walking this journey alone, just as he had never been alone in his times of service, God maintained a vigilent eye upon both of us providing the safety we needed.  Tony dropped me off as I pressed onward towards Caadron Settlement Park.  It wasn't more than a couple of miles before Jeff gave me a lift as far as he would be going.  Jeff talked really fast, telling me of the times that when he was young and used to hitchhike and the one time that he was picked up at the age of 13 and had to jump out of the vehicle with a quickness for he feared the sanity of the guy giving him a ride.  Jeff dropped me off at his stop, his story still resting in my mind.  Before long a guy named Joe Greene offered me a ride and a hamburger if I was hungry, I obliged him on the offer of the lift, however being as hot as it is and early as it was still in the day I regrettfully declined the hamburger offer.  People have offered me food, money and rides all along the way, all from the kindness of their hearts; blessings and truth written in the reality of the very life I am living, proof of not only my faith, but the overall goodness of humanity.  Another lift was I offered and graciously accepted the second person I had ever met named Gaylon, who was from the town of Conway helped me find my way to Cadron Settlement Park, the place I had hoped to camp for the evening.  He dropped about two miles from the park and I was happy he had, after four lifts for the day on top of the estimated 12 miles I had hiked for the day I had moved pretty far and made it to my goal destination for the day.  Unfortunately that goal was maybe set a little premature, for this park had no water, with exception of the river that was not recommended to drink and no camping was allowed in the park.

 

So I left the park and headed towards the little town of Menifee, where I met Officer Joe Kennemer.  Oddly enough this gentleman had previously been a Sheriff in the very county of my birth, I instantly feel a kinship with people when there is this kind of bizarre connection.  We had a good conversation of my future hikes on the way to the next town Plummerville, where he dropped me of to get a cold beverage.  Joe was really a heck of a nice guy, one of numerous police that I had crossed paths with who seemed happy I was doing something like this verses something more self destructive to my life and damaging to the world around me.  I went into the Country Store in Plummerville, which enable me to indulge in something I had been craving since I had quelled the BBQ craving, it was fried chicken that was talking to me this time.  The Country Store that was a very busy spot in the town of Plummerville, Arkansas seemed to be the hotspot with amazing fried chicken and delicious fried okra.  The fried chicken wasn't just good because I was craving it, it was flat out good!  Josh the owner of the Country Store had something else that I really like when I'm as active as I am right now, he had Arizona Tea Rx Energy Herbal Tonic.  I really love the stuff, I think I drank his entire supply.  Bret was a nice young guy that worked for Josh and seemed really interested in what I was doing and encouraged me to stay in town a second night that way I would be able to attend a Wednesday night church service.  I was hesitant, I had good motivation and a good hiking ryhthm, also I first need to secure my staying within the confines of the town.  I located Officer Alvey who turned out to be super helpful on numerous occasions, he had it okayed that I stay the night I arrived. After locating a suitable spot in the park I set my tent up and fell asleep.  The next day I arose and packed my gear up uncertain if I would be able to camp in town another evening, unlike the Appalachian Trail, people in these areas are uncertain of people hiking long distances and camping in this sort of fashion.  When it appeared Chief Hartman had arrived I went to see if I could get a second nights allocation in the town.  It was accepted, though the chief was concerned if I stayed to long the town would become upset, I understood and didn't want to become a vagrant park dweller.  The day was overcast, yet no rain seemed to fall, seemingly a perfect day for hiking a lot of miles.  Though the temptation was there, I stayed read and played guitar, making some progressions on a couple of songs I have been working on.  I wanted to attend church that evening.  Around six that evening it seemed a fellow was taking a walk in the park where I was reading, when he approached.  His name was Bill Griffith and he was actually the pastor for the Baptiit church I attended that evening.  A young man of middle school age approached us, knowing Bill, as we spoke.  He seemed dishoveled in many ways, notablely the way he spoke, it seemed fragmented and often confused,  though still good in heart.  When he left and Bill informed me of the childs broken family history, his needs and Bills hopes for his future.  We then left the park and went over to the church, where I had conversations with numerous people, Stephan would be the first.  A local who had recently swithced churches for his love of the Lord had drawn him to this church a different one than where his parents attended.  I then met Jamie, Bill's son, he seemed very curious about the journey I was taking and his heart seemed to be right with the Lord and this church.  I then met a few more peopel in the night congregation before the service, then I was asked to give an over view and answer a few questions on the Trail of Tears, I felt unprepared.  After the service and my consequential rambleings I had a good conversation with Sue Green, before I followed Bill down to the fellowship hall. I had been thinking about corndogs today and that's what Billy Jean offered me along with cheese puffs and lemonade.  I happily ate then spoke more with Bill and got to know James and Larry.  This was a blessed night indeed.  I returned to the park, through my tent back up and crashed for the early morning would arrive soon.  I woke to a still morning, a chill lingered in the damp air, remnants from the early mornings dew point.  The moon still bright and resting in the western sky.  As I moved nearer to the town of Morrilton and the sun began to rise, it was as if the moon was turned down by a dimmer switch, never moving positions, just fading into the light blue depths of the sky.

Morrilton, Arkansas had some apparent history and a museum that unfortunately was not open when I passed through, however I still took photos before I progressed towards the town of Atkins.  Now I'm leaving Atkins and I'll be trying to push on another 14 miles to the compiled 19 miles with the 2 mile assist of one very nice local, named Ruby.  Who by the way even gave me her freshly poured Coca-cola, southern hospitality at it's finest I have seen in Arkansas.  I think if I did indeed need a new shirt, someone probably would offer it to me, down right good people.  Off I go to Russellville and hopefully an actual campsite.