Arkansas Burnout (Possible Country Song Title?)

I left Texas and drove into Oklahoma and continued on into Arkansas. I had tried to make a reservation at an Army Corps campground, but the site wouldn’t work.  I decided to just show up and see if there was space.  When a pulled in, the campground host bounded out of his trailer and came to greet me.  I explained the situation to him, and he looked over at the campground, pointed at a site and said how about that one.  When I agreed, he said — well, I’m a fat boy and I need some AC … lets get in the office and get you fixed up.  After a little paperwork, I told him I was headed the following day for Bull Shoals, and renown trout river in Arkansas.  He took off his hat and rubbed his brow, got a sad look on his face.  What’s wrong I said.  He moaned and said … I wanna go with ya.  What a guy.

The campground at Bull Shoals State Park abuts the White River just below the Bull Shoals dam.  It is the most beautiful public campground I have seen.  The majority of the sites back up to the river, wide and beautiful.  Trout fisherman call these spots tailwater.  Water is released from the dam on a published schedule.  In the case of Bull Shoals, the water comes from the bottom of the lake behind the dam, so its clear and cold.  The trout love it … the world record brown came out of this run, until bested recently by another Arkansas tailwater fish.  I went out with a great guide for a couple of days, drifting on the river in a boat.  Beating my fishing odds, I got a few, just beautiful.

Ernest Hemingway, when asked how you go bankrupt, quipped “two ways, gradually, then suddenly.”  Road trip burnout is similar.  The adrenaline rush of setting out on an adventure has subsided.  31 days in a small van with a dog, a sweet dog but a dog, begins to gnaw at the soul.  My hands have a series of cuts and dings from pulling cords and wrestling with firewood. I am eating weird.  I’ve got the sniffles.  That’s the gradual part.  Then suddenly, today, I went off the cliff.  I was driving across US RT 412 in Northern Arkansas, a two lane highway with little to look at.  Ugh.  Enough.  I have not slept in a bed in 31 days.  My arms hurt.  The audible book is putting me to sleep.  And tonight, I am writing this from my RV spot in a Love’s Truck stop.  Ugh.

I realize this is a first world problem, so I should stop whining.  I will rally to see my good friends in Tennessee.  But it’s time to head home.  The Phils are in the playoffs, and I am missing the first series.  The boys have sports that I would like to see.  I’ve been alone too long … I miss the ones I love.