Sunday, 8 March 2020
(I'm having to write this more than a week after it happened and am having to refresh my memory about all kinds of things - what day did this happen? oh yes, Sunday, I remember now. Thank goodness I take notes or it'd all be gone.)
Daisy State Park, where I stayed last night, is laid out in an unusual way. The campsites are spread along 2 elevated arms of land that jut into Lake Greeson. I was told my site wouldn't have a view of the lake, only of trees, but I wanted it because it would be more isolated from other campers and be less trouble for the dogs. Turned out I had a bit of a lake view anyway, because a finger of the lake ran up past my campsite and was plenty scenic for me. It'll be different in a couple of months after the trees have leafed out, but right now I had a nice view. I didn't go over to the other arm, but that seemed to be where the party was - I could hear a lot of noise and shrieking kids and boats and so forth, and was very glad we weren't there.
I haven't complained yet this year about daylight savings time, but I'm going to do it now. It's made sunrise after 7:30 in the morning, which is just plain crazy to me. You'd think this was November, being so dark so late in the morning. I know the original justification for this idiocy was to allow people to spend more time at home playing outside with their families in the evening, but I don't believe for a second that that still happens - if it ever did. Now people work later in the day, fewer people are having kids, and everybody including the kids seems wedded to their smart phones all the time. Meanwhile, we're all having to drive to work and school in the dark every morning, and nobody can tell me that's safe for either the kids or the drivers. For me, it means I can't take my dogs out for the first time until after 7:00, so I can see the deer and bears and whatever else they can smell or sense that I have to see. That's set our entire morning schedule back more than an hour, and all the way around is very inconvenient for me. And besides, I know good and well I'm not the only morning person out there, but we're having to pay the price for this system. The adjustment twice a year is hard both physically and mentally on people, and I think we should just go back to ordinary standard time year round.
Okay, I'll try not to mention it any more this spring.
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| today's route |
I passed a church with the sign: "God answers knee-mail." Churches really go in for puns.
I'm starting to move into the Ouachita Mountains, and the road is starting to go up and down and around bends a lot.
I finally started wondering what kind of cows I'm seeing, since I don't know one breed from another, with a few exceptions. And the Arkansas Farm Bureau gave me the probable answer. There are only 40 licensed dairy herds in the state, and the number is declining because of consumer preference. That puts Ark. at #46 among US states. On the other hand, half of all farm operations in Ark. are beef cattle and the number is gradually increasing. Which means most of what I've been seeing are beef cattle.
I'd heard that rice is the main crop in eastern Ark. near the Mississippi River, and the AR Farm Bureau told me Arkansas ranks #1 of all the states in rice production. In fact, 49% of all rice grown in the US is grown here. That's a lot of rice.
I passed a lot of churches this morning, and almost all of them had plenty of parishioners attending. Arkansas is part of the Bible Belt, with 86% of the state identifying as Christian and 14% as not religious. As you can see, there isn't much room for other beliefs, though I've seen a few signs of others around.
Speaking of religion, I passed a cemetery this morning and saw a tombstone had been covered by a bright orange t-shirt stretched across it. Wish I knew what that's about.
I've seen lots of dead critters along the road in this state, and this morning I saw 2 dead deer lying together by the road. Apparently both were hit at the same time. I hope whoever did it has a staggering car repair bill. (I understand accidents - but 2 at once?)
I drove through miles and miles of a heavy haze that smelled like smoke, though I never saw a source.
I crossed Little Sugar Loaf Creek, then Middle Sugar Loaf Creek, then Sugar Loaf Creek.
Health officials have advised that, because of easy transmissibility of the coronavirus, they recommend people don't touch their faces. I'm now finding what a habit I have of fidgeting by how hard it is for me not to touch my face, and how often I want to do it.
Near Hot Springs, I passed a Methodist Church that had a parking lot nearly full as early as 9:45. That's a lot of folks going to church unusually early.
Hot Springs
Welcome to Hot Springs, pop. 35,750. It ranks only #11 in Arkansas cities by size, though it's certainly one of the best known.
Hot Springs seems to be built on the lower slopes of 2 low mountains: Sugarloaf Mountain at 1,209' on the northwest and North Mountain at 1,120' on the northeast. Just beyond Sugarloaf Mtn. is Lake Ouachita, the largest lake completely within Arkansas. From that runs the Ouachita River, coming southeast as it skirts Hot Springs and widening out there so much it looks like another lake, though it doesn't seem to have any name but Ouachita River. In other words, there's plenty of natural scenery in the area and a lot of opportunity for waterfront homes. Which I passed quite a few of on the way into town, most quite fancy.
I've finally decided that little ᴮ, as in Route 72ᴮ which I was on today, stands for "Business" as in Business Route, the ones that go through towns when the regular route goes outside them. I haven't seen one road in Arkansas that's labeled as a "business route" even when the online directions tell me that's what I'm on, but they do have that little ᴮ designation on the signs. Route 72ᴮ runs through Hot Springs.
I'd called ahead to the Hot Springs National Park Visitor Center to ask about RV parking, so I knew to go to the city lot a block away, where they have several designated slots for RVs. I saw a sign there advertising Hot Springs's upcoming World's Shortest Saint Patrick's Parade - all 98' of it.
At this parking lot is free public access to the mineral water from the springs for which the town was named.
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| public hot springs kiosk |
As you can see on the left, this public water access is right on the street, not hidden in some building somewhere. The nice man on the right explained to me what he was doing and told me that the water is indeed warm. So I felt it, and it's definitely warm. I had a small empty water bottle and filled it and found that the water tastes very good. I'd thought, since it's mineral water, it might have an odd taste but it doesn't. The government posts the mineral content. |
| properties of the hot springs water |
Native Americans in this area came here in the 1700s for certain (documents prove it), but most likely were coming here for centuries long before that: the first European to visit, Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto, came in 1541, so surely the people who lived in the region were coming too.
Lewis & Clark sent Pres. Jefferson reports of the hot springs and, in 1832, the US government set aside 4 parcels of land to protect the natural resource. They didn't bother to enforce it, though, and private claims were being filed for decades afterward. In the mid-1800s people built for-profit bathhouses over the springs, meaning they put up what were essentially tents and poorly built lumber structures. These caught fire or collapsed from rot, and the area was an eyesore.
The town of Hot Springs incorporated in 1851 and, by the 1870s, was typical of a Wild West town, with gambling dens and the streams being an open sewer. It could be a dangerous place for visitors, what with stray bullets and all.
In 1877, the government finally exerted control and approved plans for private bathhouses that ran the economic scale, even opening one for free to the indigent. African Americans had access to these only as employees, of course, but began opening their own nearby bathhouses in 1905. People came looking for cures for rheumatism and other health problems, though even then some came for relaxation. By the 1880s, visitors came during the social season.
Hot Springs National Park
Some of these bathhouses saw themselves as competing with those in Europe and were built with marble and stained glass - quite luxurious in a time when indoor plumbing barely existed. The area came to be known as Bathhouse Row; original dangerous buildings were replaced by sturdy, cleaner facilities, and those are the ones that exist today. Only two of them are still in operation as a spa, the Buckstaff and the Quapaw.
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| Quapaw Baths |
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| quite an elaborate building |
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| Buckstaff Baths |
The Buckstaff is the only bathhouse that's been in continual operation since it was built in 1911; all the others closed at one time or another though some, like the Quapaw, reopened from time to time. They operate as day spas. The only one that offers hotel facilities in addition to spa treatments is the Arlington Hotel, built in 1875. (Al Capone used to stay here.) I couldn't take a photo because of traffic, and this was the best I could find. Fortunately, the photo includes an incredible statue that's between lanes in the middle of the street, which I suppose represents a woman taking a bath out in Nature.
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| Arlington Resort Hotel and Spa |
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| the Fordyce Bathhouse/NPS Visitor Center |
I learned a lot of this at the National Park Visitor Center, located in what was the Fordyce Bathhouse. It was opened in 1915 to great acclaim, and the NPS has done extensive restoration. Nonetheless, to 21st century eyes there's little about it that seems luxurious, but I'll show you the most spectacular bits first.
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| the Men's Bath Hall as it once looked |
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| the Men's Bath Hall today |
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| detail of the statue - de Soto? |
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| stunning stained glass ceiling in the Men's Bathhouse |
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| steam cabinets |
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| a steam cabinet in use |
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| controls for the bath equipment |
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| these are hot on today's market |
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| the lap of luxury, I guess |
The women's facilities were nowhere near as roomy or luxurious as the men's, of course.
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| the Ladies' Pack Room |
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| Ladies' Cooling Room |
The one note of luxury the women got: stained glass windows in their cooling room.
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| there are 4 or 5 of these windows along this wall |
And down in the basement is a view of the hot springs themselves - or one of them.
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| this public viewing window was put in long ago |
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| hot springs |
I'm sorry the photo at right is so hard to discern, but there was a terrible glare. You can see my legs reflected in the glass, and I did that on purpose to allow you to see the water and its surroundings. The spa lined the opening with tile and then with quartz, as you see (all original). Down in the middle of that is the water coming up from the ground.
Across from that are displays explaining where the thermal waters come from.
So basically, rain falls and seeps through fissures in the rock; it percolates downward, getting hotter as it goes from the warmth of the rock; the pressure difference between the surface and the impermeable rock below causes the water to rise again in an artesian-like effect. This process takes about 4,000 years, from the time the raindrops fall until the time they reach the surface once more. A gift of Nature.
The flow of water from the springs can't be turned off, and the National Park Service has been mandated to make the water available free, without modification, in any quantity. This has been working out to about 700,000 gallons per day, every day, to anyone who wants it. The bathhouses, though, are operated on a concession basis through the National Park Service.
I saw signs on their website this morning (3-18) that says the Visitor Center is closing temporarily to comply with the CDC guidelines for dealing with the coronavirus - social distancing and so forth. Likely the bathhouses will, too.
Of course I saw a great deal more, not only at the Visitor Center but also in the town, with the City of Hot Springs putting up informational signs to explain local history and the springs. But I'll stop here and move back through the town.
Continuing in Hot Springs
I went from downtown to the city's recycling drop-off facility - they accept glass! - and then on to a Kroger which was on my way out of town.
Along the way I saw a paved walkway along Hot Springs Creek and a sign saying Majestic Field is under renovation. From 1908 until 1918, Majestic Field here in Hot Springs was used as the first spring training facility for major league baseball teams. The Detroit Tigers originally built it, but the field was used by several other teams, such as the Boston Red Sox and the Brooklyn Dodgers. Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron all played here over the years. It's now not much more than an open field (I walked the dogs around a bit), but apparently Hot Springs plans to change that.
Hot Springs is also the home of Oaklawn Park, which bills itself as the Home of the Racing Festival of the South. I couldn't get a photo because of traffic and didn't find one online that I could use, but it looked as nice as the other racetracks I've seen. I think they also have a casino on site.
Back on the road
The road out of town reminded me of Guadalupe through Austin, or maybe Rt. 2222 as it used to be before a zillion people built houses out there and widened it into 4 tame lanes. In other words, narrow and winding past houses and businesses and pleasant scenery. And, like Texas, I had trouble getting other cars to let me change lanes. Oh well. It happens.
I saw more horses out in fields. Now that I know Oaklawn race track is there, I'll guess there are so many horses in Arkansas because there's a place for them to run. And I still don't understand why I saw so few horses out in fields in Kentucky.
I passed some rental cabins called Knotty & Nice Cabins.
I discovered I was on a designated Arkansas Scenic Highway, which I'm sure will live up to its designation in a few more months. Now, not so much.
I chose to stay at tonight's state park because it's called a resort state park. I remember those I stayed at in Kentucky, which pretty much deserved the "resort" identification, and assumed this one would be like that. That is, I assumed I'd be able to pick up a wifi signal in the campground. Sadly, no such luck. If they'd had wifi, I planned to stay here several days to catch up on my blog, but instead I'm planning to keep on going to another park tomorrow, seeking the elusive holy grail - i.e. a comfortable park with fairly level sites, not too many dogs and a wifi signal. Hope on, hope ever.
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