An Historic Day

New Cowhide Campground – Hope, AR

We reached the Mexico border?

No, let’s not get ahead of ourselves – we have to finish Arkansas, Louisiana and Texas first.

Diana swam to New Orleans and back? 

No – that’s ridiculous. She only made it to St. Louis before she had to turn around for dinner.

We were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for Lifetime Achievement in Campfire Cooking?

Well, they are thinking about it. But it hasn’t come through yet. And Trump has promised to revoke our Medal on Day One if he is elected – right after he appoints himself dictator for life.

No, the historic day we enjoyed on this first day of October is better than those meager accomplishments in any case.

Let’s see . . .

First, we stopped at the only public díamond mine in the world. That’s right – Crater of Diamonds State Park. You can mine your own diamonds right there. 

We figured we needed to start thinking about financing this trip. What better way than to find a 47 karat jewel within a few minutes of starting to sift dirt? 

That plan didn’t last very long. Diana doesn’t have much patience for ill-advised diversions like digging in a field when there is biking to be done. 

But the funny thing is that there were crowds of people “mining.” The parking lot contained the most working cars in one place that we’ve seen since Little Rock. I mean, there are plenty of places in Arkansas that have way more not-currently-working cars. 

I’m not talking about junk yards. Arkansas has plenty of those too. No, we’re talking ordinary people’s yards. You’ll be biking along, and you look over to your left and there are like 47 cars surrounding an old mobile home. And not one of them looks like it runs. 

There are cars on blocks. Cars with no wheels. Cars with no seats. Cars that are smashed in. Cars with no engines. Cars that are rusted out. Basically, any permutation of junk car you can think of. 

Inevitably, you’re looking over at this Picasso-like exhibit of vehicles (imagine, instead of eyes looking one way, and legs going another, the cars have headlights disconnected from their bodies, and wheels where they shouldn’t be), and you’re wondering if anyone lives amongst this squalor. And then Fido emerges to greet you from the trunk of the 1989 Nissan Pathfinder that is collecting rust in the carport. And you realize that not only do people live here, they have pets and stuff. They’re a normal family. And they have wealth – it’s just been invested in the scrap metal industry – temporarily. But they could cash in any day they wanted. They’re just waiting for the right time. 

But what was I saying? Oh yeah – there were a lot of functioning cars in the parking lot at Crater of Diamonds. And a whole bunch of people out in the burning hot, no shade “diamond field” digging around, sifting, and hoping. Apparently these are all the other Arkansans – who weren’t smart enough to invest in scrap metal. So they’re hoping that they’ll find that lucky sparkler . . .

But that was just the first part of our historic day. 

Then we passed by Glenn Campbell’s boyhood home – and the place where he’s buried now. (Jamie, who we met at the campground this morning, told me about how Glenn Campbell had grown up there.) Now, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I couldn’t identify any Glenn Campbell songs off the top of my head. 

So on the way to Crater of Diamonds State Park I played a few Spotify songs off of Glenn Campbell’s Greatest Hits. Rhinestone Cowboy! Are you kidding me? I love that song. That is exactly the type of song I love. Drives Diana crazy – but how can you not love corny songs like that. Seriously. Southern Nights? Awesome! Especially relevant after last night. Between my normal old-man-getting-up-to-pee three or four times and the raccoon that kept harassing the nearby garbage can I did A LOT of stargazing last night. Amazing dark sky. Beautiful evening. So I was almost crying while I listened to Southern Nights this morning . . .

Then we passed the site of the old log house that was the first courthouse for the County of Hempstead, in the Territory of Arkansas, from 1819 – 1824. That there was pretty much worth the trip all by itself.

But we’re just getting started. (“Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.” (Name that reference and win lots and lots of blog points . . .))

We followed the Trail of Tears, the Civil War Trail, the Southwest Trail, and the Camden Trail – all in one day. 

The Trail of Tears we have already talked about. But seeing just the Arkansas portion of the trail – and how long it stretches – really helps bring home just how horrible this was. The U.S. didn’t move these people 50 miles down the road. In fact, for the most part there were no roads – but they still forcibly moved thousands of people and multiple tribes hundreds of miles. 

The Civil War Trail helps tourists navigate the Arkansas battlefields of yesteryear.

The Southwest Trail was the route that pioneers took to Texas. Considering how hot it was today I’m not quite sure what these pioneers were thinking. But I guess we’ll find out . . .

I guess the Camden Trail is a scenic byway that commemorates a Union military campaign that took place in Arkansas – with the idea of uniting Little Rock and Shreveport troops for a planned invasion of Texas. Considering we are on our way to Texas via Shreveport, and we started practically in the Camden neighborhood in Minneapolis – this one seems particularly relevant now. 

Finally, we landed in the home of the 2005 world record watermelon, which, by the way, was grown by Lloyd Wright. Weighing in at 268.8 pounds it was quite a beauty. Not sure if it was seedless though. 

Oh yeah, and the home of the 2005 world record watermelon happens to be Hope – the town that Bill Clinton was born in. 

We visited Bill’s boyhood home, along with yet another national park type place. This was not the highlight of the day. First off, they had no water. Well, I guess they had some water, but they refused to give us any because, they said, it tasted bad. They reported that the drinking fountain is supposed to be fixed in the near future. 

But by the looks of the place – peeling paint and just kind of a sad, decrepit feel to things – I kind of doubt that that drinking fountain will be dispensing water anytime soon. 

Maybe the goal is to make sure you know that Bill grew up in everyman circumstances. If that’s the case I guess it does a pretty good job. But my sense is that maybe they want to up their game a little bit – but they’re probably not getting any federal funding because, let’s face it, from a political perspective Bill is kind of kryptonite these days. 

So that was our historic day. Pretty epic, really. I’ll be going to sleep to the beat of my new song: “Like a Diamond-Studded Cowboy.” I mean, come on, Glenn – you grew up like a mile from the only public diamond mine in the world. Get with it.

The riding today? A little flatter – which we welcomed after ten days of the Ozarks. Maybe more than a little hotter. More wonderfully lonely roads. Terrain starting to change. No cotton fields yet – but you can feel that it’s coming. Beautiful sunshine. All in all, very nice riding.

Still waiting on the Secrets of Shreveport. One of you out there is holding out on us.