True Grit Trail

Highway 22, which runs from Dardanelle to Fort Smith, has been christened the "True Grit Trail." The name comes from the famous book by Charles Portis, which was also been adapted into two movies. The story revolves around Mattie Ross, who "was just fourteen years of age when a coward going by the name of Tom Chaney shot my father down in Fort Smith, Arkansas, and robbed him of his life and his horse and $150." With the help of a one-eyed deputy marshal and a "dandy" Texas Ranger, they track down her father's killer in present-day Oklahoma (spoiler alert, if you haven't read the book or seen the two movies).

In the book, the trip Mattie takes from Dardanelle to Fort Smith is by train and only takes up a few paragraphs. But Hwy. 22 roughly follows the route that people traveling west to Fort Smith at the time presumably would have taken. Of course the book was set in the 1870s, and things have changed a bit along the route. Now you can see a nuclear power plant, and a good number of Dollar Generals.

I have family that lives along Hwy. 22 in the town of Charleston, so I've driven this stretch of road many times over the years. It was always the more scenic drive to take, passing by Lake Dardanelle. And last weekend, I headed back out that way again. It was a warm day, with some late summer thunderstorms off in the distance. I stopped by this side road, which ran off to the north. The storms in the background were dumping a bunch of rain on the Ozark Mountains.



I grew up in North Little Rock, but a lot of my family is from Charleston. My grandparents lived there, along with several Aunts and cousins. I spent just about every single Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter in Charleston. My family maintains an old cemetery there (which is on the National Register of Historic Places), that is the final resting place for all four of my grandparents and one of my parents. And it's where I'll end up one day (hopefully not anytime soon).

Charleston is one of the two county seats of Franklin County. The town made history in 1954, when it was the first community in the South to completely desegregate its schools. This is the county courthouse, which was built in 1923.



Charleston is in the news again now, unfortunately. Last year the state of Arkansas purchased land just north of Charleston, with the goal of building a massive prison there. The prison would hold 3,000 people, which is more than the total population of Charleston. The land they bought had been used for pastures and ranching, and is completely unsuitable for a massive prison complex. It is not along a major road, and there is no water or sewer access. The state assumed they could get water from the nearby cities of Ozark and Fort Smith, but it turns out that neither city has the capacity to provide that much water (and if it did, it would require building miles of expensive pipelines). It became clear early on that it was a mistake to purchase this land for a prison, yet our governor continues to push for it to be built. The mishandling of the land purchase, along with the corruption and abject disregard for the people affected by the proposed prison has become a perfect encapsulation of everything that is wrong with our current governor and how she runs the state. And as if she couldn't sink any lower, the state may also be offering the land to ICE for a detention center/concentration camp. Just shameful and disgusting all around.

After visiting the old cemetery and paying my respects, I turned around and headed back home along Hwy. 22. Near the town of Paris, I pulled over and got a few pictures of this old barn. It seems to be close to falling apart and crumbling away.



One of the most prominent buildings along Hwy. 22 is at Subiaco Abbey, a Benedictine monastery and school. It was founded in 1878, and the buildings were constructed in 1902.



There are farms and fields all around Subiaco. I turned off of Hwy. 22 and drove down a dirt road for a bit, passing by this field.



I headed back down Hwy. 22 for a bit, before making a quick stop at this old barn:







And further down Hwy. 22, I stopped again at another side road. This little dirt road was lined on both sides by a thick wall of yellow wildflowers. Would be such a fun road to drive down every day if you lived around there.



And then one last stop, just as the sun began to set. There was an old red barn, sitting in a field surrounded by little yellow flowers. I got a few pictures before finishing the drive on the True Grit Trail, and then heading home on the much less interesting I-40.

Dispatch From The Edge Of The Universe

It was already dark by the time I arrived at this old rice dryer in the Arkansas Delta. I tried to set up the camera in the dark, in the hopes of not attracting the attention of any of the millions of mosquitoes, gnats and other assorted creepy crawlies out there. But it was all for naught, as they all descended as soon as I left the safety of the car. I drenched myself with bug spray, which helped for a bit. The bugs hovered about an inch or two from my face, searching for any chinks in the bug spray armor.

It took me awhile to find the right spot to set up the camera and to get everything in focus. The mosquitoes were beginning to renew their attack so I sprayed myself with bug spray again, and then the air around me. I felt like a middle-school kid trying to put on cologne before his first dance, but it did the trick. The bugs seemed to drift away and avoid me (much like the girls at those middle school dances). I set the camera to start taking pictures, which it would continuously do for the next two hours. I then used the flashlight to shine on the old rice dryer, trying to illuminate it for the pictures. The beam of light from the flashlight did hit the old dryer, but it also caught the multitude of bugs hanging in the air. In the light, they looked like snowflakes in a blizzard.

There wasn't anyone else around, except for a few cars that would drive along the nearby road. But there was some sort of critter or creature that lurked in the old rice dryer. I could hear it scampering about in the night. I retreated back to the car, where I sat for two hours while the camera clicked away and took about 225 pictures. When it was time, I walked out amongst the bugs and gathered the camera and tripod and then headed home.

This is the final result. There is a little bit of light pollution (from the Stuttgart metroplex). And also a bright line of orange, which looks like a rocket taking off but it is actually the moon rising over the horizon.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

If you were to drive out from North Little Rock along Hwy. 70, you would pass by a few massive warehouses (for Amazon and Dollar General). And then you are quickly deposited into the flat lands of the Delta. Massive farms stretch out on both sides of the road, growing everything from soybeans to minnows. I was driving out that way the other day, and spotted this little smiley face painted on the side of a water tank. It was getting late, and light from the setting sun flooded the background of the picture.

Still Standing

You can't help but wonder why certain places have been left empty and abandoned. Why did people leave this home behind, why did they shut that door for the last time? When this old house was built, the road nearby must have been a rough dirt road. Over the roads that road was paved, and is now a busy four-lane highway. The roar of traffic echoes against the quiet old house.

Dust In The Wind

You see houses like this all across the Ozark Mountains. Built decades ago, but now empty and abandoned. The metal roof has turned orange with rust, the wooden siding turned gray by time and weather. The people moved out long ago, for whatever reason. Now a few different critters have snuck in to claim the space for themselves.



The old house sits along an unpaved road, close enough that the dust that is kicked up by passing cars or trucks have coated the porch with a thick layer of dirt and grime. An old chair also sits on the porch, one that perhaps used to be the favorite spot of an old granny who would sit and watch the cars or time pass by. They are gone but the chair remains, covered with a layer of dust like a blanket.





After taking a few pictures I headed back to the car and drove off, kicking off more dust that silently drifted over and settled on the old house.

Living On The Edge

It's kinda weird to be envious of a tree, but I'm a bit jealous of this old Ashe's Juniper tree. It has managed to snag an amazing spot along a bluff, about 250 feet above the Buffalo River. Its roots have dug into the limestone bluff. Its trunks curve and twist, stretching out towards the river. Perhaps it is straining to get a better view of the river, which on this visit had a decent amount of water in it despite the lack of rain this summer. I wish I could always have a view like this, especially on those days when I have to go into the office and have a view of a cubicle walls.