The Arkansas side of the Mississippi River

As I was dropped off in Arkansas I pressed onward towards highway 64, the main path that was once "The Old Sunken Road".  Highway 64 was six miles from my location, feeling the thick humid temperature that made the rice grow only slowed my progress.  Even a train, carrying I believe natural gas, tried to slow my forward progress.

The roads here were hot and the thing I first noticed near these rice fields were all the dried frogs, not a good sign for me, I'm on average drinking 5 liters of water a day.  As I approach what looks to be the beginings of a town I spot a water spigot and a paved path with a sliver of shade big enough for me to sit and no more.  I stop here for a breather, refill my recently vacated water reserves and let my feet breath.  There is a information board near by and it tells the story of the Sultana, the most disasturous boating accident in terms of the amount of life lost, even worse than the Titanic.

I moved further into this little town of Marion, Arkansas and quickly realize I have no idea which direction I am heading.  I step into the Marion City Hall and speak with a guy named Maxi Key who tells me te direction I need to go to continue on my journey.  This town, like so many I've seen along the way, has old buildings with great stone work that are easily 60-100 years old.  Since before Memphis I had been craving BBQ, waiting to find a place that really called me and I felt as though I had made a mile mark of worth on this journey and deserved some small treat, BBQ was to be it.  I passed a few places, but nothing called to my sense of smell and desire of hunger.  I stopped at a gas station on the outskirts of town to get a popsicle, which I had been adopting as a way of cooling my core.  A young lady who worked there, whose name I didn't acquire, had her son with her.  He was rambunctious and having a hard time sitting still, not too much unlike myself at that age.  I asked if I could by the child an ice cream as he looked on me enjoying one, giving me a sense of possible jealousy.  His mother agreed it would be ok, so I bought him one on a bargin that he would try to behave himself and listen to his mother, to which is readily agreed.  He calmly sat eating his ice cream sandwhich even as I left the comfort of the air conditioning to exit into the muggy heat.  As I followed the road onward I noticed a sign, similar in namesake to my journey.

 
I shuffled on down the road meeting many beautiful animals along the way, these horses looked like they lived in a painting by the highway.

I was fighting the heat of the day and pushing towards Wynne, Arkansas.  I felt like I was going to far north and stopped by a place called, Angeletti Animal Acres, to speak with Vince Angeletti.  He confirmed I was infact heading the correct direction by the best of his knowledge and recomended I stop in the next town a short five miles away to get some food and stay for the evening.  The powers that by  offered me another option.  As I began to walk towards the upcoming city to set up for the night a very intersting person by the name of Joe Townsend offered me a lift.  I told him of my plans to stay in the near town, my journey and the near by Village Creek State Park, which I looked forward to staying at for a couple of days for rest and recouperation time.  He made me a offere that I rather liked and agreed might be a good idea, it was to go about 60miles north from my curent location, almost doubling my distance from where I was going to be heading to the Little Red River.  He said the area was cooler in temperature, there would be far less mosquitos and the water was icey cold, which the trout loved.  He was a very kind man, who had given me recomendations on different parts of the state for camping, made calls for information on the Trail of Tears in Arkansas, gave me some insight as far as possible job opportunities I hadn't ever thought of that might help me to continue school and even helped me get that BBQ I was craving so much.  The most unusual thing about this fellow, was his voice almost sounded like former President Bill Clinton, which I felt was very suiting for the state of Arkansas.  He was one of those people that you meet and you really are happy you met him, the impact I often hope to have in people's lives.  Joe dropped me off at the John F. Kennedy campground at the Little Red River in just enough time to set up my camp before a huge thunder head open the heavens to fall upon my little tent.

 The next morning you would never had know that of the previous nights calamitous showers, as people finshed for those coveted trout through the day.  I watched a took photos as of them and their competition while my legs stayed submerged in the almost painfully cool waters.

The competition

Next to my camp was a lovely family from Little Rock.  It consisted of Toni Turchi (aka Wonderwoman), Pat Golden (who's super powers are still unknown), Linda Hall (aka Catwoman), Matthew, Ken and a few others I didn't catch the names of.  These folks were super nice and I was able to have a lovely chat with them in the morning over coffee and donuts.  The super hero names are an inside joke that most readers of this story won't get and for that I offer my appologies.  I stayed, relaxed and soaked my achy bones in the river's cool waters. till the following morning when I was able to attend my first church service since this journey began.  The church service was open to the air in a pavillion in the park, the music rang through the trees and the spirit through the hearts of the faithful.  The sermon was given on forgiveness and the words touched my soul as the pastor spoke of the number of operations his wife had to endure before her passing.  I left the park thinking of Pslams 51.  I moved through the town of Huber Springs, a lake oriented town.  I restocked food and picked up a set of cheap headphones at another Walmart.  I progressed through town as people stared at me oddly, as if I had a giraffe on my shoulders.  I stopped at a Burger King on the way out of town for a burger and a .50cent ice cream cone, even though I try to avoid to much dairy.  The ice cream was worth it, the burger disagreed with me.  As I confusingly progressed out of town a I heard a honk, it was a guy named Michael whom offered me a lift this time.  He interstingly enough studied music in the town where I grew up, Bloomington, Indiana the whom of I.U.  I hope that doesn't burn me with the Arkansas and Tennessee fans that I have met along the way.  Either way, another ride in the heat of the day is a blessing indeed.  Michael told me of his hopes and dreams of getting married in the future, playing music for his church and getting his masters in music.  He dropped me at highway 5 which would lead me back south to Little Rock and the Trail of Tears.  I wished Michael well on all of his pursuits and hoped for his future to be a happy and bright one.  I drifted down the road, feeling as though I was moving with the comfortable breeze that was bringing another storm into the region.  Then something odd happened, I was offered a ride by a Loree Garriott, it was odd because it was a lady.  More than once people have said they don't pick up people walking on the side of the road, but they felt compelled to give me a ride, a couple of times people stated God interviened and told them to turn around and pick me up.  This time this very sweet lady saiid she picked me up because I wasn't just sitting there, but it actually looked like I was trying to make progress and I was.  Loree brought me into the town of Rosebud, I stopped here for a short while, just long enough to get a cold soda, but it was too early for me to make camp for the day.  I wanted to make some more miles, I want to get to Little Rock and get back to the Trail of Tears.  The road narrowed and the cars moved fast, flying past me with a sense of urgency, whether there was urgency or not. 

I had been feeling the miles in my recently softened feet, the aches seeped back into my bones and joints.  Somwhere around eight miles from rosebud I encountered the little town of Romance and Bethesda Church.  On the porch sat Pastor Ken Wood and Robert Gray.  I asked Pastor Wood if I might be able to camp someplace near by and me motioned to some bushes and small trees near by, stating there would be no problem with me camping right there.  I was glad to find a place ot rest for the night.  He said they would be having a service if I cared to join and I could play a little guitar if I'd like; I opted for both of the opportunities.  In the service were brothers and sisters Kenneth and June Wood, Andy and Karen Little, Marie Golley, Jim and Mindy and Robert Gray.  It was a lovely service with gave me a good insight into a recent error I had made, I laughed at an off color joke.  It is true that they are often funny, however it is also true that this could be considered "musing the fire" of sin within ourselves.  It was a good lesson taken to heart.  The congregation felt compelled to give me a donation from their hearts, I was overwhelmed and accepted though this kind of generousity feels as though it is too much since.  I always try to remember that a blessing is a two-fold measure, for me to accept a blessing from another is to allow them to be blessed as well.  I am thankful for this days struggles and fortune indeed and the true humor in irony was found when Pastor Wood brought me a piece of cake, bringing a smile to my heart not just my mouth.  In the morning Andy and Karen Little had a doctors appointment in Little Rock for Karen's pancreas and offered me a ride to town, I graciously accepted.  They dropped me at the library here in Little Rock with fresh coffee in my system, which is where I have spent the last four hours or so, peeling as many details out of my brain as possible.  I hope all went well for the Littles in their visit to the doctor today.  God Bless.  Time to head out of Little Rock and on to the next location.