The Events of Monday, February 7, 2011

                Today started very early for some of us. Awakened by Ben fumbling in the bathroom, Jim picked the ungodly hour of 4:30 to wake up, gather his stuff and head out for a walk. By this time, I was unhappily but thoroughly awake. Jim returned at 7:30 to send Ben out for a run and disappeared again. Thus began the first saga of lost shoes. Ben’s shoes were in the girls’ room, but Jim and the girls had all the hotel key cards. I had told them not to open the door to anyone knocking because we had a key to their room (and they to ours) and should not need to knock. But Jim had taken off with the keys. So I tried calling their room and could hear the phone ringing and ringing and could not understand why they would not pick up. Then they began knocking on the shared wall between our rooms. I called out to them to pick up the phone and heard Abby say “Hello?” through the wall but did not hear her on the phone. Turns out when she lifted the receiver she found the cord disconnected from the base. Finally she was able to insert it and called me back, to which I growled, “Open the door for your brother; he needs his shoes.” A very meek “Yes, Mommy” was her response.

                After cycling everyone through the showers and packing up, we were ready to go down to breakfast. However, now Caitlin and Abby couldn’t find their shoes. We searched both rooms, opening every drawer, shaking out bedcovers and towels and searching closets, high and low. No luck. We retraced their steps and both could remember exactly where in their room they had left their shoes, under the luggage bench. Just as Caitlin started to move the bench, Jim came in to tell her to check behind it. It seems that during the Super Bowl, Jim and Ben had pulled out this bench to place their microwave dinners on it, and returned it without looking to see the two pairs of shoes they were pushing behind it and thus hiding from view. Finally, with everyone shod, we went downstairs to the hotel breakfast.

                After breakfast, we moved back into the RV and headed off for our long day of driving. We are headed for Hot Springs National Park in Arkansas and it is going to take us at least five hours of steady driving to get there. We had thought we would be driving in the rain, but the heavy rainfall with crashing thunder and lightning had happened at midnight and I had thoroughly enjoyed the dramatic display. Now it was just windy and cold. As I drove, I struggled a bit to keep Harvey on the road. Often, with any amount of wind and speed, driving an RV is like trying to drive a kite. While I drove, the kids caught up on blogs, edited pictures and read. Outside of Shreveport, I noticed a billboard for LSU (Louisiana State University). It featured pictures of their football team and cheerleaders and the cheerleaders were holding up placards that spelled out “G-E-A-U-X  LSU”. I thought that was clever. As we approached Shreveport, LA, it was time to look for gas. Finding it, we filled up and switched drivers. While Jim drove, the kids continued with their computer work and reading while I tried to sleep. However, the back bed is right behind the rear wheels, so sleeping while driving is like trying to sleep while Tigger bounces on your bed. Finally, Jim pulled over at the Arkansas Welcome Center near Texarkana for lunch.

                As we drove, Ben brought up the idea that he would like to visit Crater of Diamonds State Park, which was on our way to Hot Springs National Park. Supposedly, diamonds are there for the taking. Keeping one ear tuned to the conversation, I noticed a highway patrol officer sitting in the median behind some trees. Checking my speed, I noted that I was only four miles above the speed limit, but decided to slow down, just in case in Arkansas, they are as picky as in Nebraska where I had received a warning for driving 4.9 miles over the speed limit. Behind me, the decision was made to find out more about the Diamond Park. Caitlin asked for the GPS, but, as I handed it back, the cord caught on my sunglasses, so the transition wasn’t very smooth. Then I passed an 18-wheeler, but as I checked the mirror for clearance to return to the right lane, my turn signal shut off. Unnerved, I continued on in the left lane, turning on the turn signal again and again and checking my mirror to move over. Again, the turn signal turned off and I stayed in my lane. Finally, on the third try, the turn signal stayed on and seeing I had enough space behind me, I passed the 18 wheeler safely. However, as I pulled into the right lane, I noticed the highway patrol car in the left lane. Glancing down, I was relieved to find that, despite all that maneuvering, I was still at the speed limit. Then Jim came forward to discuss with me what he and the kids had found out about Crater of Diamonds State Park. Just as he began speaking, the cop turns on his lights and follows me to the side. MAN! Stopped again – what for this time?

                The officer, after identifying himself as an Arkansas State Trooper, stated he had pulled me over because I was weaving in the lane. He asked if I had been drinking. Shocked, I stammered no. I don’t drink alcohol, at all, ever. Then he asked if perhaps I was sleepy, but I explained we had just stopped for lunch and I was fine. By this time he was perusing my driver’s license and Jim’s and the RV registration. All of a sudden, I was aware of his slow drawl and general confusion. He asked us about the RV owner, why we had the RV, where we were headed and why. I explained we were traveling the country, and this seemed to confuse him more. Spying the kids, he demanded to know why they weren’t in school. I explained they were homeschooled (our standard short answer to people’s questions about the kids’ schooling on this trip.) All this seemed to take him a long time to digest. And I had to repeat virtually everything I said to him! Hiding a smile, I tried to push the image of a bumbling country hillbilly out of my mind. Finally, he said he was going to issue me a warning for “Careless Driving” and took our information back to his cruiser to check us out. Returning, he assured me that I didn’t have to pay a fine or anything, had me sign my name to my “warning” and sent us on our way. Turning, I silently handed the slip to Caitlin, who, for some reason, is saving all these traffic “warning” souvenirs that we are collecting across the country.

                Within moments of taking off, the vote was in – we would NOT be visiting Crater of Diamonds State Park. Too much money for a dirty, cold task that promised very little yield. That settled, I reset the GPS for Hot Springs National Park, noting that we’d arrive at the visitor center forty-five minutes before it closed, and that is precisely what happened.

                Hot Springs National Park is the smallest of the 63 national parks (this does not take into account National Memorials or National Historic Sites.) Water is what attracts people to Hot Springs and has for years. Following the Louisiana Purchase, President Jefferson sent an expedition to explore the newly acquired springs. Their report attracted up interest in the area and soon people were flocking here to bathe in the “medicinal” waters. In 1832, the federal government set aside four sections of land here to protect this natural resource. This action has called some to name Hot Springs the “first” national park, as the present newly minted quarters celebrating national parks do. However, as the system for establishing national parks was not yet in existence, Yellowstone actually has the honor of the “first” national park, while Hot Springs was declared the eighteenth national park in 1921.

                The visitor center is located in the restored Fordyce Bathhouse in the middle of Bathhouse Row. We arrived too late to view the movie, but had just enough time for the kids to pick up their junior ranger packets and visit the third floor of this four story museum. Shooed out at 5, we plan to return tomorrow. Outside, we placed our hands in two fountains of hot spring water and watched the steam from these fountains float off into the air. Following signs, we climbed the stairs behind the visitor center to Display Springs, an example of what the entire hillside once was. Climbing on, we discovered trails and placards. One trail, “Dead Chief Trail”, was designed by a physician for his patients to follow as they returned to health. Running parallel to the street below was a carriage trail and the Grand Promenade, a red-brick pathway that led to excellent views overlooking the city of Hot Springs. As we watched, the sun began to set behind West Mountain, and we knew it was time to find our camping spot for the night. Heading through town, we found a Walmart, but soon found boondocking prohibited by a city ordinance.

                Not discouraged, we headed out to Gulpha Gorge campground, a National Park Service campground. For $10, we could camp with access to flush toilets, but no hook-ups or showers. The last time we camped in an NPS campground was in Yellowstone, and, compared to those parking lots, this is a lot more pristine. Behind our campsite gurgles Gulpha Creek and it is dark and quiet here. It will be cold tonight, but we have all we need to be warm and dry. After dumping at the dump station and filling up our water tank, we settled in, fixed dinner, and cleaned up. While the kids did math with Jim, I caught up on my blog and emails and will soon head to bed. Hopefully we will all sleep for a long time.