September 2, 2013
Start: Springfield, MO
End: Clinton, OK
Miles driven: 370.2
Trip Odometer: 919
Part 1: The Beauty of the Ozarks
My right leg, my driving leg, is covered in a checkerboard of pain relief patches. I contemplate the sheer physical energy it must have taken for my grandpa to drive this same route in the days before power steering and seat belts, with two little kids in the back seat. Note to self: the Ozarks may be the most beautiful scenery in the United States. The vast fields on either side of the highway are littered with giant hay bales; they look like like splintered barrels laid on their sides. Low-hanging, white fluffy clouds look close enough that I could reach up through my car window and pinch of a tuft. I wonder what it would taste like? Probably better than the clouds in the city: pure air. My right hip aches. I bought a pack of Salon-Pas patches and every time I feel a new twinge I slap another one on. I think I am at about 8 right now.
The last time I drove through the Ozarks was almost exactly two years ago when on a whim, I decided to move from New Orleans to Chicago, but starting in California where my car had been living. I stopped in Northwest Arkansas to spend some time with a friend in Razorback Country. I took a day detour to Eureka Springs, quite possibly my favorite place I have ever been.
I had all my worldly possessions packed into my car and no job lined up in Chicago. I was only planning on renting a room from some friends and it would have been no skin off their respective noses for me to not show up. I seriously considered staying right there in this quirky, artsy, hillside Victorian Village full of not much more than antique stores, souvenir shops and bars--all run by cool, weird antique and souvenir people.
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| Seriously, how beautiful is this place? Crescent Hotel and Spa, Eureka Springs, Arkansas |
I drove out to the grand Crescent Hotel and Spa. Built in 1886, it boasts absolutely gorgeous views of the mountains and valleys of the spectacular Ozarks. I struck up a conversation with a hotel employee, mostly about his run-ins with the ghosts who allegedly inhabit the place. I asked him how he’d ended up out there. Was I crazy to want to stay? He answered that that’s how most of his fellow employees ended up there. Nature’s beauty, a slow-pace, and an accepting community. And four months of rough winters that forced most of Eureka Spring’s residents to collect unemployment for a third of the year. The more I thought about it, the less appealing it seemed. And as I drove away with the hotel in my rear-view mirror, I pictured myself spending a winter holed up in a hotel with no guests (at least of the living variety).
All work and no play makes this writer a dull girl.
All work and no play makes this writer a dull girl.
All work and no play makes this writer a dull girl.
All work and no play makes this writer a dull girl.
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