Goat Trail on Big Bluff

Last Friday, I was toiling away at the office and slowly counting down the hours until closing time. But around 10:00, I got a message from Zack asking if I'd be interested in going on a camping/hiking adventure with him up in the Ozark Mountains. He wanted to hike the Goat Trail, which sits high above the Buffalo River.

I requested, and got, the rest of the day off and just a short time later we were driving north towards the Buffalo. To reach the Goat Trail, you have to hike three miles along the Centerpoint Trail. We were going to camp along the trail that night, so we also had to bring along tents, sleeping bags, food and various assorted pieces of camera equipment.

The hike down was quick and easy, thanks to it being mostly downhill. We made good time, and finished the three mile hike in about an hour or so. We only passed four people on the hike, all of them coming back up the trail. One group said that they had hiked the three miles down, and then just turned around and came back up without going out onto the Goat Trail. We both thought it was somewhat strange to make that hike without visiting the trail's star attraction. But as odd as that was, seeing other people made bizarre hiking choices on that trail would turn out to be the theme for the weekend.

After three miles, you pass through a wide clearing that marks the spot where the Goat Trail branches off from the Centerpoint Trail. It is a perfect camping spot, and it came already equipped with some fire rings. We quickly set our camping gear aside and headed down the Goat Trail. It felt a lot lighter to just be carrying the camera equipment...

The Goat Trail runs for about a mile out to Big Bluff. At first the trail runs through the woods, but it quickly meets up with a bluff line. Trees block your view for most of the hike, but once you get out on the bluff the trees are gone and you are greeted with a panoramic and breathtaking view of the Buffalo River.

A view of the Buffalo River from the trail - note Zack in the picture for scale.

The Goat Trail runs along a natural ledge, which is almost as if someone put in a sidewalk along the bluff. Big Bluff is about 560 feet tall, one of the tallest on the Buffalo River (depending on which source you trust, the tallest is the 590 foot-tall Ludlow Bluff near Rush). The Goat Trail runs about 340 feet above the river. It's definitely high enough to make you a little scared of heights.


The Buffalo River curves around a large bend here, passing by a few (relatively) small bluffs.


The Goat Trail reminded me of the time I visited the Grand Canyon. The view here is so vast, so impressive, that it is difficult to really capture it with a camera. It's really something you have to see in person, since the sheer size and scale of the bluff doesn't translate well in a picture.

And the Big Bluff, like it's name suggests, is massive. At 560 feet it towers high over the landscape. For a bit of comparison, the tallest building in Little Rock is only 546 feet tall (the 40-story Metropolitan National Bank Building). The Goat Trail, at 340 feet, is taller than the fifth tallest building in Little Rock (the 331 foot-tall Union National Bank Building).

Now just imagine a bluff that is taller than every building in this picture....

Actually if you were able to magically scoop up the Arkansas State Capitol and drop it down along the Buffalo River at the base of Big Bluff, you would still have 110 feet of empty space between the Goat Trail and the top of the dome. It's seemed almost impossible to grasp the size of the bluff. The views were still awesome though.


As the Goat Trail makes it's way along the bluff, it is blocked by a foot-thick buttress of rock. To get around it, you have to either crawl through a hole in the rock, or bypass it by taking a trail that runs close to the edge of the bluff. The hole isn't a natural one, it was actually carved out of the rock around 1910, in order to make a somewhat safer trail for area school kids to take while walking to the Centerpoint School. Seriously, kids walked along the 340 foot tall bluff every day to get to school.

The Goat Trail runs past a few alcoves, which were claimed by several buzzards. They got angry when we approached, and they took off and flew in circles high above us. But speaking of animals, the Goat Trail did actually get named because of goats. Apparently in the 1950s, a few goats escaped from a nearby farmstead and wandered around the ledge. The stench from their droppings, it was said, lingered for many years. And on that pleasant note, let's return to our story...

As we were up there taking pictures, two kayakers appeared on the river. We waved at them, even if they looked like tiny dots on the horizon. When they got closer they waved back, and then pulled up to camp across the river from the bluff.


When I left Little Rock earlier that day, it was warm and sunny. But up at the Buffalo it was cold with a light rain/drizzle. There was a touch of fog drifting along the tops of the mountains.


We probably spent about two hours up there taking pictures and soaking in the scenery. But since it was starting to get dark, we reluctantly headed back to our campsite. I got one last picture before we left...


I bought a new tent that I was eager to try out. It's one of those one-person tents, which was light enough to make it a nice thing to have on a 3 mile hike. So I attempted to get it set up and no surprise, started having some difficulties. One of the things that I hate about camping are tent pegs. Those damn things never work right, and it's always nearly impossible to get them to go into the ground. I gave up on them, the ground there had maybe a half-inch of dirt before you hit solid rock. I tried banging the pegs with a rock, which only helped to bend them, before they would just lamely fall over.

I was ready to give up and just sleep in the tent without it being put up. But with Zack's help we were able to rig it up - using some nearby rocks to tie the guy lines onto. He only called me a noob a few times during this...

After that, we set out to build a campfire. It had rained the day before, and it was drizzly all of that day. So any firewood that we found was a little wet. It took awhile to get a fire going, but eventually we had a pretty good one blazing away. We sat back to relax, have a few drinks, and lazily look at the fire.

Occasionally, I heard some animals off in the distance. Coyotes! I could easily imagine them attacking the campsite and trying to eat my tent.

We were planning on going back out onto the bluff early the next morning, eager to catch an awesome sunrise. So by about 11:00, it was about time to call it a night. But suddenly, in the distance, I saw some lights. I immediately thought it was the light of the campfire reflected in the eyes of some blood-thirsty coyotes. Oh crap, here they are!

But no, the lights were from flashlights. It looked like someone was hiking down the trail towards the campsite. I logically assumed that it would be one of the following:
1). Sexy lady hikers who needed to warm up by the campfire.
2). A murderer.
3). Coyotes, who somehow learned how to operate flashlights.
4). A bizarre combination of the above.

It seemed like it took forever for the hikers to make it down into the clearing by the campsite. As they got close enough, one of them yelled out a "hello!" and we hollered back. It turned out to be about 15 teenagers, part of a church youth group from Tulsa. For some reason, known only to them, they decided to start hiking the Centerpoint trail at night. They didn't know where they were going, or what was on the trail. They seemed to be equally surprised to find out that they had hiked three miles, and that they were this close to the Goat Trail. They did also seem startled when we told them of the probable proximity of coyotes...

They came in and crowded around our campfire to warm up (it was about 45 degrees that night). They told a few ghost stories, and then turned around and began to hike the three miles back to the trailhead. It was about 11:30 when they left, so they probably got back well after 1 am.

I couldn't imagine hiking that trail at night, or just heading off into the woods without knowing what you were getting into. It was really bizarre.

The next morning we woke up before dawn and headed back out onto the Goat Trail. The hope was that we would catch some cool fog along the river, or at least a nice sunrise. But neither of these things happened. We did stay awhile and enjoy the nice view again. I did try to do a panoramic shot from there - this is three shots stitched together:


Then we hiked back up the hill and started to gather all of our camping equipment. With everything packed and ready to go, it was time for the long hike up back to the trailhead. What had been a deceptively easy hike the day before was now a long slog up the hill (with the added fun of the weight from the backpacks!). But we made it back to the car after about an hour and a half or so. We didn't see our friends from Tulsa out there still, so at least they made it back safely.

But the morning was cloudy and rainy, which was perfect conditions for waterfall photography. So after happily discarding the packs in the back of Zack's jeep, we headed out to visit a nearby waterfall...

Erbie

We apparently didn't get our fill of old barns while we were in Boxley Valley. So we drove east, heading towards another spot with a plethora of old buildings. On the way, we stopped to get a picture of this barn that sits along Hwy. 74.


The road was covered in a thick fog. This is along Hwy. 74 where the road curves around Horseshoe Canyon.


Our next stop was the Parker-Hickman Farmstead, near the Erbie campground. This old farmstead is a collection of several well-preserved buildings. All of the buildings sit far enough away from the Buffalo River that they escaped any damage from the recent floods. But the heavy rains did wash out the area around a low-water bridge over Webb Branch, so it was only passable with high-clearance vehicles.

It takes a few miles of driving along a dirt road to reach the farmstead. Luckily the road was in good shape, and it passes by some neat barns along the way. We stopped at one for a few pictures...


Eventually, we made it to the farmstead. We didn't want to press our luck driving across the low-water bridge. The rain had scoured the dirt from both ends of the low-water bridge, leaving deep ruts. So we parked and walked across the bridge, which had about 6 inches of water running over it from the creek.

The farmstead is comprised of an old home and several barns. The old home was built sometime between 1847 and 1849. It is the oldest structure within the boundaries of the Buffalo National River.

The lean-to on the side of the building was added in the 1920's, and served as a country store.

The last family to occupy the home was the Hickman family, who started living there in 1912. They built most of the barns and other buildings in the farmstead.


Gradon Hickman was the last person to call this place home. He lived here until 1978, just a few years after the land surrounding his home was protected as the Buffalo National River. In 1982 the Park Service purchased the property and in 1984 the buildings were stabilized and preserved. The house is still open for anyone to go inside and have a look around.

Another view of the old home, with a small stream that cuts through the property:

I had some difficulties getting this picture. I decided to shoot this angle, trying to get the creek and and the house all together in the shot. But I realized I should probably use a polarizing filter, which I had left in my camera bag. And of course, I had stupidly left the camera bag in the car. So I had to walk through the 6 inches of water on the low-water bridge to retrieve the filter.

I grabbed a filter out of the bag and crossed back through the water and went back to the camera. Only then did I realize that I ended up grabbing the wrong filter - I got a neutral density filter instead of the polarizer filter. So back I went, crossing back across the creek. This time I just grabbed the camera bag so I didn't need to make any other trips through the water.

And one last shot of one of the several barns at the farmstead:


From there we drove back to Hwy. 7 and went north into Harrison for dinner. We dined at a Thai restaurant, which was actually pretty good. I felt bad though, since my soaked shoes left wet footprints all over the dining area.

Boxley Vallley

From Smith Creek, we drove down the hill and into one of my favorite place in the state. Boxley Valley is just an amazing spot - there is a perfect combination of history, natural beauty, and wildlife. It's all located along what has to be the most interesting stretch of road in Arkansas.

I've been here dozens of times, but I never tire of stopping to take pictures of the old barns and homes that line the road through Boxley. Our first stop on this visit was the Edgmon barn, which was built around 1920.


The conditions were perfect too - the light rain had left some fog drifting through the valley, hugging the tops of the mountains. The light was perfect for taking a few more pictures...






A few cows, grazing in the fog:


And the same cows, with the old Boxley Church (built 1899) in the distance.


After that we drove over to the Lost Valley trailhead, just to see how things looked. The campground and trail at Lost Valley saw some significant damage after the floods. The wooden footbridge over Clark Creek was destroyed. The flood waters actually ripped the middle section of the bridge out, carrying it downstream a few hundred feet.


At the time we visited, Lost Valley was still open. People were camping there, and hikers were going in and out of the trail. But that wouldn't last for long, sadly. As of this writing, Lost Valley is closed until further notice. Along with the destroyed footbridge, there was considerable damage to the trail itself. According to the National Park Service, it's going to cost $250,000 to get everything back to normal. And to make matters worse, the Park Service is going to permanently close the campgrounds at Lost Valley. Hopefully the trails can be quickly rebuilt...

Smith Creek

The other weekend I drove up to visit an Aunt, who lives deep in the Ozarks. On Saturday, we set out with the cameras to do some exploring. Our first idea was to visit a state park in Missouri. But the floods of the week before washed away those plans. A storm dumped about a foot of rain across the Ozarks, causing some severe flooding. The place we that thought about visiting saw some damage.

But then again a lot of places saw some damage. The Buffalo River in Boxley rose to over eleven feet, which is about 8 feet higher than normal. The heavy rains around there managed to wash out the historic covered bridge in Ponca, the wooden footbridge at the Lost Valley trailhead, and damaged several roads and river put-ins.

We ended up heading through Boxley Valley anyways, and saw some evidence of the recent floods. As we drove across the bridge over the Buffalo River, we spotted this poor canoe. It must have been caught up in the flood waters and ended up wrapped around this sign. Mind you, this sign sits about 20 yards from the river. It's a testament as to how high the river was, and to how strong that sign is.


We decided to pay a visit to Smith Creek, which flows through Boxley Valley and empties into the Buffalo River. It is a very scenic little area. The creek runs and tumbles over some huge mossy boulders, creating a few nice waterfalls.


Smith Creek isn't part of the Buffalo National River, instead it's a preserve that is maintained by the Nature Conservancy. The previous owner of the property (who also owned the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs) had intended to build a house there. But instead the land was given to the Nature Conservancy, which now preserves the creek and a large underground cave system. About three million bats are said to hibernate in the 3-mile long cave during the winter.

The creek is easy to get to, just a short (but steep on the way out) hike. This is one of the neater stretches of the creek...




There are some other waterfalls just above here, which are blocked by the boulders in the creek. This is a view of one of the falls. To get this shot meant climbing up the side of a large boulder.


And another waterfall, along this same small stretch of creek:


And a few more views of the falls. You can barely just see the white from another waterfall, under the boulder on the left-hand side of the picture.




We got back on the trail and went around to the next really scenic stretch of Smith Creek. It's where the creek rounds a bend, rushing past a massive house-sized boulder.


And a view from creek-level. The huge boulder in the previous shot can still be seen in the background here.

The rocks were extremely slippery around there.

It had started to rain, so we decided to head back to the car. We visited just a few of the neater things to see in Smith Creek (there are several other waterfalls out there). As we made our way up the steep hill back to the trailhead, we heard an elk doing a bugling call. When the Buffalo River flooded, it must have forced the resident elk population in Boxley to head for higher ground. The river must have still been too high for them to get across, and they were still hanging out along the side of the hill nearby.

Longpool

Dear National Forest Service, United States Department of Agriculture,
I would like to issue a formal complaint regarding a recent visit to the Longpool Recreation Area, in the Ozark National Forest of Arkansas. The complaint centers around the waterfall there, called Longpool Falls. You see, I have visited this recreation area many times before, but have never been able to actually see this waterfall with a decent amount of water flowing though it.

My most recent visit was on Easter weekend. I stupidly assumed that the large amount of rain dumped over Arkansas beforehand would be enough to get the falls going. In fact, it was actually raining on the day I visited the falls. I just knew the falls would be running! And to cap it off, it was a perfect day for waterfall photography. It was cloudy, with the rain from earlier helping to saturate the new Spring growth. Also, a layer of fog was rising off of Big Piney Creek. I was thrilled. No, actually, I was almost downright giddy when I headed off to the falls with the camera and tripod.

I eagerly hiked the trail to the falls, with visions of waterfalls dancing through my head. But as I rounded the bend of the trail, my dreams were viciously destroyed. The lower Longpool Falls, which is the one you first see when hiking the trail, were barely running. It would be a stretch to even call it a trickle. It was almost like the tiny bit of water percolating down was cruelly mocking me.

Longpool Falls, why does thou forsake me?

To the Sirs and Madames reading this, I do not intend to sound like a Negative Nellie. On the contrary, the trip to Longpool did result in a few other pictures. Just sadly, none of the waterfall. The rainy and foggy weather created a neat atmosphere to point the camera at. This was the view along the trail:


And the opposite view, looking back downhill...


And the view from the road running through the campground:


And I will admit that Big Piney Creek did look beautiful in the soft light and fog.




But I remain again thwarted and disappointed in my attempt to view this waterfall when it actually has water falling in it. Therefore, I ask the National Forest to please correct this issue. The next time I plan to visit Longpool, I request that the waterfall there be running. If that would require dumping millions of gallons of water above the watershed, or somehow diverting water from the Big Piney to the falls, then so be it. Please spend as many taxpayer dollars as necessary to see this happen.

I know this request will be given top priority. But to be on the safe side, I will also be sending copies of this letter to the governor of Arkansas, the six members of the Arkansas Congressional Delegation, to President Obama, to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, and to Bono.

Yours truly,
Mr. Brian E. Cormack