Let's be frank: Arkansas is really not the greatest place to ride a bike in the summer! Holy cow, Missouri was like a hamam, and Arkansas was not one iota drier or cooler, just about 1,000 ft lower in elevation (and thus even closer to the molten core of the Earth). But is it scenic and cycling friendly? Well, you bet! And as they say: What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger.
After checking out of my condo in Branson West I embarked on a beautiful drive through the Ozark and Ouachita mountains, heading south toward Hot Springs. The Beemer loved the curvy mountain roads, and so did I. What a great road tripper the Z4 is! Just don't bring a passenger, but two bikes, a Dutch oven, and a pizza stone are OK. Along the way I stopped by Arkansas' own "Grand Canyon" and the hydroelectric works on the Arkansas River near Dardanelle.
My condo was located in one of the weirdest communities I've ever been to: Hot Springs Village. Most people are familiar with the concept of the
gated community, a generally small neighborhood that features controlled access that's available only to its residents and their guests. Such gated communities may be as large as a square mile, with maybe a hundred houses. Now imagine an entry-controlled incorporated "village" with more than 14,000 residents (of whom 98% are white, BTW) that encompasses a total area of almost
56 (!!!) square miles (which comes to 144 square kilometers). Check the Wikipedia entry for HSV and you will learn that it was established just about 50 years ago and is a totally planned community. There are eleven recreational lakes (think mainly boating) with three beaches, nine golf courses, a few fire stations, quite a number of churches, a couple of gas stations (those boats have to be filled up occasionally), and a few services such as a liquor store, a CBD shop, and a few other odds and ends.
To go grocery shopping you will leave through one of the various access gates (for visitors only two are staffed with live people, at the west and east end; a few other code-controlled gates exist in other places to cross the fence line), and most other services such as banks and physicians' offices are outside as well. From the west to the east gate takes a good 20 to 25 minutes of driving--15 miles at 45 mph take a while. That was the bubble in which I lived for a week. And actually, I kinda liked it, enough to look at housing prices and crime rates (about a quarter of the outside world for the latter). Thanks to Google I can tell you that of the 501 miles of roads in HSV, 472 are paved--and they are paved
nicely, many of them with a clean shoulder marked for bikes. In other words, I could have stayed in the village for two weeks and could have ridden all the roads had I gone at the same rate as what I did during my one-week stay (245 miles total). As I said, quite an unusual place.
I lucked out in that my condo had a nice deck that overlooked Lake Desoto, one of the aforementioned eleven bodies of water at HSV. Even if it was a view through the trees, I could see the occasional pontoon Sunseeker motor by. The deck was equipped with an electrical grill (one of those George Foreman-promoted devices that you see on late-night TV), and after I had moved some living room furniture to the outside I had a really nice dining space in the open. Of all the four condos that I have had over these past few months, this one was my favorite, even if it was "just" a two-bedroom unit. Sorry, bikes, no private chambers for you.
My daily routine didn't differ much from the one that I had perfected over time during these roadtrips: wake up when the body thought it was time to do so; enjoy coffee, cookies, and the newspaper out on the deck; leave for my ride around 10:00 or 10:30; get back and enjoy a light lunch; pack up two beers in my small cooler and drive a couple of miles to the Desoto beach where I'd swim, read, and obviously inhale those beers; drive back to the condo and start the food preparations while having a Happy Hour glass of wine, or two; and let the evening segue into night on my porch, listening to the frogs and birds in the surrounding forest. Damn, that's living!
I tried to embark on as many rides as possible from the condo, and it was only on one day that I drove the car down to the historic town of Hot Springs (maybe 15 miles away) to extend my range to an area of the Ouachita mountains that otherwise I wouldn't have been able to explore. For two of my rides I decided to take the gravel bike since I had mapped out routes that stood a good chance of including unpaved roads that would have made the dedicated road bike impracticable. Good choice, since both rides provided me with some adventure away from cars, in the middle of nowhere. The first one involved only about 10 miles of gravel, but thanks to a washed-out bridge (it probably had vanished decades ago) it necessitated some serious hike-a-bike through a wonderfully refreshing stream. It was also the ride during which I almost rolled over a venomous Western Pygmy rattlesnake. (I didn't identify the snake until later when I compared my photos to images found on the internet, and a dedicated Facebook group verified my correct ID.)
The other gravel ride took me north of HSV to Ouachita National Forest. Part of that ride traversed some rather sketchy-looking areas of trailer homes and featured some spooky characters staring at me. Twice I heard nearby shots that made me wonder whether it really was such a good idea to be out there, all by myself. But it was a superb ride, and I gorged myself on early blackberries and enjoyed amazing vistas from some of the higher spots. And maybe the best part was skinny dipping in a perfect waterhole fairly close back to the village.
Riding, just like in Missouri, was tough. Heat, humidity, hills--all three combined to really sap my energy. I always took extra bottles of water along and carefully listened to my body. No sense in attempting heroic efforts to maintain a "better looking" average speed for Strava. It didn't take long for me to be soaking wet with sweat, and only shaded downhill sections would provide some relief from the relentless tropical greenhouse environment. With the exception of a few relatively short stretches where I had no other routing options I was able to avoid being around traffic, choosing tiny roads that, nevertheless, were generally well paved. During my two weeks in MO and AR I didn't suffer a single flat or mechanical problem (actually, the same was true for my TX and NM trips). Both bikes performed flawlessly, my gear choices had been spot-on, and the Tailfin AeroPack allowed me to carry extra food and water plus spares and my wallet without having to weigh down my jersey pockets.
One aspect of cycling in the area was, however, a bit annoying. I experienced this problem on the day when I struck out from Hot Springs in a southwesterly direction. HSV is not the only gated community in that part of the world, and unfortunately maps do not indicate whether a road is closed off to non-resident travel. I talked to one of the locals about this, and he told me that unless one knows the area one stands a good chance to come across a closed gate. So, I had to modify my route several times that day, hoping that the new route wouldn't be a dead-end again. Since my Locus mapping program relies on open source info, there really wasn't much that could be done. And even in the backcountry there were gates that indicated hunting leases; when they were closed I didn't duck under them, remembering those shots fired....
The loop south-west of Hot Springs ended up in the only brewpub in the US that's located within a National Park. Superior Bathhouse Brewery is located in one of eight historic bathhouses that line the main drag of Hot Springs. The beer was really good, even if I had to drink it out of a plastic cup thanks to COVID-19. The brewery uses the geothermally heated water that not only gives the town its name but was the reason for its fame as a medicinal spa and resort. Several old, art deco hotels remind you that the town has been a tourist spot for quite a while, even if Josephine Tussaud's Wax Museum and Duck Tours in amphibious vehicles probably attract more visitor nowadays than the healing waters. (Thanks to the ever-ready Google I learned that ol' Josephine was the great-great-granddaughter of
the Madame Tussaud of worldwide wax fame.)
So, once again I had chosen a good spot for a cycling vacation. As you can see from this map, I got a chance to see a large swath of this beautiful part of the world.
Before I knew it, it was time to pack up once again and load the Beemer. Since it's a pretty long haul from Arkansas back home I had contacted my friend Keith who lives in Ft. Worth, and he and Cindy hosted me Sunday night in their elegant home. Just like on the way out to Missouri when I had stayed with Terry in OKC, connecting with old friends was a special treat and a nice way to bookend my driving vacation. And so, after 1,812 miles I finally rolled back into Lubbock this past Monday. Sure, it's hot here, but without humidity one doesn't really feel it--at least not the way I did for those two weeks in MO and AR.
Time to go back to the drawing board and find some other destination. Unfortunately, Texas (and many other states) have seen a dramatic resurgence of COVID-19 infections over the past week, and who knows whether my current plans for mid-July will pan out.
Jürgen
No comments:
Post a Comment