Petit Jean Mountain State Park

I spent my childhood as well as many of my adult years in the state of Arkansas. Due to some life changing events, I left there in 2002. I now live in the great North West, here in Oregon. It rains a lot during the fall, winter and the spring. It is really wet and yet we do not let it keep us from enjoying life. While I may enjoy living here in Oregon, where I can walk its sandy beaches I have very fond recollections of Arkansas. I can honestly say that Arkansas still runs deep within me, and probably always will. Growing up I developed a huge interest in Photography and Hiking which is a great combination. And like a lot of nature nuts, my favorite singers were John Denver, Michael Martin Murphy, and a few other folk artists. The same as many teen-age boys, I drove my Father crazy, with my semi-long hair, just below my collar. Now I have none to speak of, what's up with that? I even read a few of the books by Euell Gibbons. Once I became old enough to drive, I did a lot of camping on my own, not always by choice mind you, just the way things worked out. My favorite place to camp, hike and photograph was Petit Jean Mountain State Park.

Petit Jean Mountain is located near Morrilton Arkansas. It has an incredibly rich history. There is also a wonderful story for how this oasis of paradise got her name. Once you reach the top of the mountain, you will want to stop at Stouts Point. Located at the east end of the mountain, this is a great place to experience the true beauty of an Arkansas sunrise. It is here that you can find the sign which tells the story for her name. From this point you can also see the Arkansas River valley below.

On a clear day you can watch the eagles soar through blue skies. See the river barges as they make their way up the Arkansas River. The view from Stouts Point, is only one of her many treasures. You will find more of these treasures on Red Bluff Drive and all around her ridges

The Cedar Creek Trail  is another one of my favorite places. This is not a real hard trail, fairly easy and offers a lot to see. Other trails include the Cedar Falls Trail. This trail is a little harder, and well worth taking.  There is also the Canyon Trail . This is part of the Boy Scout trail.  Petit Jean Mountain State park has many trails, for those who have the aspiration and fortitude to take the journey Nevertheless if Hiking is not your image of fun or in the event you are unable to, because of health concerns. Do not lose heart. You can still enjoy her magnificence by visiting the many overlooks throughout the park. Red bluff drive is a must; last time I was there it was a very well maintained gravel road. I remember right there at the intersection, there is a little dairy bar. They were only open about nine months out of the year. I can tell you, they served some really good burgers, milk shakes and orange floats. I have been told by park officials that it is out of business though, hopefully someone will reopen it.

 After a long day of hiking and sightseeing, there is nothing like sitting back and enjoying a nice camp fire. Roasting hotdogs, making S'mores or just gazing at the stars, on more than one occasion I was invited, by my neighbor to join them around their campfire. I have met some of the nicest and most musically talented people while camping at Petit Jean State Park.

  If I tell you everything about her, you would have no reason to make the journey, to see her.  I talk about this place as though it was a person, a lady. Indeed I do, once you make the trip you will too. I made several trips to see her and photograph her. It did not seem to matter what time of the year it was she always gave me some great photographs, and a lot of good memories. Every time, that I was there I would hike down to Cedar Falls. Something about that place that would bring about calmness, it was a place to forget about the world an all of its problems.  Just when I thought, I had seen everything she had to offer. I would discover something new about her. She was always there for me, when I just needed to get away from things.

 Petit Jean has seen her fair share of marriage proposals, weddings, and Honey-mooning couples.

Petit Jean has so many things to offer, to so many people. I have not been there in a few years. I cannot imagine that too many things have changed. The park service is very diligent in preserving the park and keeping it as natural as possible. Although I understand that there has been some major renovations made to Mather Lodge at Petit Jean Mountain State park. This park has camping available for RVs as well as tent camping, boating, fishing. If you live in Arkansas and have not visited Petit Jean you are cheating yourself of a wonderful experience. If you are on the road just passing through the state you need to visit Petit Jean  and create some memories of your own, you will be so glad that you did.

Vacation at Bull Shoals State Park

The Ozark Mountains are a wonderful place to visit, camp, and take a family vacation. The Ozark Mountains run through North Arkansas and Southern Missouri. If I was ever asked what I missed about the State of Arkansas this would be at top of my list. It is absolutely beautiful with the rolling hills; the lakes, hiking trails, and fishing streams, the small family farms, and the rich history that make up this region of the state are unforgettable. The people are friendly and some still observe the lifestyles of days long gone: practicing such crafts as furniture making, wood carving, crafting musical instruments, quilt making, black-smiting and candle making. Most of the towns in this area are small and quaint the people are laid-back. If you ever have a chance to visit this part of the country then you should for its scenic beauty, its dynamic pioneering traditions, and wholesome delight. Bull Shoals State Park was one of our family's favorite place to camp and fish.

     I guess the reason that I like this area so much is, because some of my fondest recollections as a child were created here. From the time that I was five years old until I was about ten, my family would vacation at Bull Shoals State Park along the White River. The River is so cold that it will quickly turn your toes blue and make them feel deadened it is so clear that you can always see the rocky-river bed below. In the morning she is serene shallow and the fog is so thick you can not see five feet in front of you. Often by mid afternoon she is awake, she becomes a powerful and swift river  Her picturesque banks are so captivating that newcomers make the error of judgment watching where they have been instead of where they are headed and end up in serious trouble. The flow of the White River is controlled by a hydroelectric dam which formed Bull Shoals Lake: one of several man made lakes in the area.
My father loved to fish for trout and taught each of his three kids how to enjoy it as well. Since the best fishing took place in the early morning and late afternoon it left the middle of the day and the evening for sightseeing, Amphitheater shows, roasting hot dogs over a camp fire or frying up some of the fresh trout that were caught during the day. The smell of fish would permeate the air as other campers around you were doing the same. As the sun would set and the sky would grow dark you could see the orange glow of campfires throughout the whole park and on a clear night you could see the stars and the moon in this area called the Ozarks. There was also artistic culture that was distinctly different from the city.

     It was relatively familiar for one of your neighbors to have a Guitar, Banjo, or a Mountain Dulcimer in their possession which they would begin playing. The night air was filled with the sounds of  instruments playing, people singing, laughing through out the park; along with the frogs and a few owls. Not any irritating televisions, or radios to be heard. As some folks would stroll through the park they would often stop to listen to the musicians as they would play. It always seemed like they enjoyed giving the complimentary performance. And it was predictable that other musicians from other campsites would join in forming there own little band; people they had never seen before and would likely never see again. The river set low in the valley and even in the summer night you would often need a light jacket, because it was so cool there was the absence of the troublesome bloodsucking insect known as the notorious mosquito. I can tell you that they were not missed.

    Being that the river runs as cold as she does, we would envelop a watermelon in a fishing net, tie up the end with a fish stringer, toss it in the river and tie the other end to a tree two hours later. It would be colder than if it had been in the refrigerator. My little sister tried this with an ice cream bar, but the results were not quite as promising. At one end of the park there was an area that was known as the spring where we would go swimming in the late after noon. The spring’s only source of water was from the river itself, yet it was noticeably warmer than the river. From the rivers edge to the end of the spring was an area less than a hundred feet and with its precipitous banks the easiest way to get in was to swing out on a rope that hung from a tree five feet above the water and drop. This is a part of my childhood that I enjoyed maybe even more than Christmas.

     As my father’s business took off and prospered and his military career came to an end: our camping trips to the Ozarks became less and less frequent. Then they became utterly nonexistent. At first I missed the camping trips but with the passing of each year I began to miss them a little less until I hardly gave it a single thought. This all seemed peculiar to me since we were indeed in the camping business. We should be camping and promoting the idea of camping and family unity. At times I thought this to be hypocritical but none of us seemed to have the time. My Dad was running the business, while my Mom was doing the books.  Linda, my older sister ran the accessories store, and took care of the rental fleet while I worked in the shop. Who had time for camping? We sold them, we rented them, and we serviced them, now we had no time to enjoy them. This went on until I was in my senior year of high school. One week during spring break I decided to take one of the rentals and go camping all by myself with no friends or parent just me. It just wasn’t the same. I was there for almost a week and never caught a single fish. The only pleasure that I found was that I could go where I wanted, when I wanted. The park had not changed much with the exception that they had closed the spring where I once used to swim as a child. They had also created some additional campsites which I did not find to be much of an enhancement; since they had cut down several old oak trees to do so. Nevertheless I was still alone and confused; I should be enjoying this.  It was not as I had remembered it. I did not really have any fun. I did not care to eat alone either, so I ate out, never built a camp fire. I was so bored that I finally left two days early to go home.

      Almost twelve years had passed before I returned to the Ozarks. My wife and kids had packed the fifth wheel while I was at work over the course of three days preceding our departure. I had made it quite clear that we were not taking the television, movies or the video games. The night before we were to leave I had to work late and when I returned home the family was asleep, each in their own beds for once. This gave me the perfect opportunity to make an inspection on what had been packed. I found the television, the movies and the video games and hid them in the storage building in the back yard.

      I returned to Bull Shoals State Park, with my wife, my daughter April, and my son William. I had the opportunity to show my family, who had never been there before, they didn't know what to expect of the Ozarks. We did all the things that I had done with my parents. We rented a boat; took it out on the river. I had never been in control of the boat prior to that day. I knew how treacherous the White river could be when the water was high. This made me extremely uneasy since the river could be tremendously unforgiving of mistakes.  As boy my dad had always handled the boat with confidence; at least so it seemed. April who was only about six caught her first fish. Quite by accident I might add but the joy in her face was priceless. I say by accident, I had cast her line out quite a ways from the boat, then handed her the fishing pole. While I was bating my hook, so that I could fish she had been slowly reeling her line in. It was no more than 30 feet from the boat. Just seconds prior to me casting my line, April felt the bump on the line so she jerked back and caught the fish. Once the fish was in the boat, we noticed that she had hooked it right in its side. William was only two at the time and was on a mission to explore anything and everything including Poison Ivey, bugs and even a dead snake that he had found in a bush.

  Once again it was a fun experience to be back. People still did the same things as before; they still had the campfires, roasted hot-dogs and Marsh-mellows. They still gave free concerts; once again it was as I had remembered it some twenty plus years before. It was not that they had changed or that the landscape had changed it was my perspective that had changed.  As a parent I saw the place as my parents must have seen it those twenty plus years before. It was now my turn and even my responsibility to create new memories not just for myself, but for my kids. They would have their own fond memories of the Ozarks like I had as a child. When the vacation was over, it appeared as though everyone had enjoyed themselves and had a good time. This feeling went un-confirmed for almost a year. One day my daughter came to me and asked if we could go to the Ozarks for our family vacation again. So I asked “You really want to go back there?”  William who happened to be in front of the television added an “I want to go too!” This made me happy inside I was glad to see that my kids enjoyed their vacation in the Ozarks as much as I had. It also made me think about the transformation that I had gone through. I was there as a child in the mid to late sixties, back again as a teen and once again as a parent and it was all part of the circle of life.