Though this will be my second attempt at writing about yesterday, the adjective that describes remains a constant… it was brutal. I tried to write about last night, but before the pictures even reached my laptop, I was out, finished, dead asleep. Day started off well and jolly as I retraced the three miles from the motel to Lonoke and back onto highway 70 which parallels Interstate 40. My expectation was more of the same, nice trees, calm road, and therein lies the danger of expectation! Within a couple of miles, my trees had dissipated and I found myself walking through some of the most productive farmland in the US. Soybeans and rice, and a whole bunch of it…
It rained the day before, and the humidity was stifling, not a breath of wind, and I must admit, the breeze/wind/dust from passing semis were actually a nice relief from the stillness. And on I went, a bit taken aback by the change of scenery and conditions. Got to Carlisle, and then walked a perfectly straight line for 12 miles, completely flat, much more a mental challenge than a physical one. There was not much visual variety, it was hot, no shade. My pace is typically 3 miles per hour, which includes little rests, the occasional Instagram posts, etc. There was no way to keep yesterday - walked a few minutes over 9 hours, and felt every second of it. Monotony was interrupted twice by two very nice gentlemen stopped, one to offer me water (I took, so cold and nice) and another asked if I wanted a Mountain Dew - passed, but was appreciative.
Luckily. there was a very good Amigos Grill a short walk from the hotel, otherwise it would have been something from the convenience store. Tired had the upper hand on food at that point, but had a great meal and a sleep that could have been a coma.
Very pleased to say that all the aches and pains from last night had pretty much disappeared by morning, and I got a relatively early start, facing another 25 miles up to Brinkley. And then life kinda took over.
Google maps sent me on a little road adjacent to the Interstate, looked OK on a screen, but as I started walking along, it got a little shady, and then the Dead End sign. No one around except a guy starting his work day on mower. I approached him, his name is Mason. I asked Mason about the little road, and he didn’t think it connected, but called someone to verify. No dice… said it connected but only by an old bridge that was falling down. Rerouting… then Mason asked where I was going and we got to talking. First stop was Biscoe, then on to Brinkley, where I am tonight. Mason then told me that the area between Biscoe and Brinkley is known locally as “The Dump”. When a local calls a place a dump, you listen to the fact that the road has no shoulder, there are swamps and snakes. He rather quickly talked me out of the walking through the dump, so on to Plan B, which involved a ride from his Dad’s store in Biscoe through about 12 miles that are The Dump. Mason called the store, asked about Joe, who used to give rides around the area, but unfortunately, Joe is no longer with us on this earth. He called Steve, who had seen me a couple of times walking yesterday, not around, but Mason was confident I could get a ride at the store, and so was I, as I retraced my 2.5 miles to ol’ highway 70.
Nice walking path in Hazen… several of these towns have made some really nice walking paths over what was once the railroad tracks, nice asphalt path, trees, benches. Good thing there were people walking even though it was stifling hot. Have I ever mentioned that walking is perhaps the best thing you can do for your body? Anyway, walking trail ended, Hwy 70 started and off to Biscoe I went, with absolutely no idea how I was going to avoid the dump, trusting Mason and humanity to get me safely to where I am tonight.
About 14 miles later, I walked up to the store (there was no mistaking the store, it is the only store for miles.) Walked up and there was a guy in his pickup, and we started a conversation. He said he’d seen me in Lonoke yesterday. When I asked if he’d consider going a few miles in the opposite direction to give me a lift, he said yes, but wanted to ask the Mrs. She agreed, so Jimmy Jack, Jennifer and I headed into The Dump. Thank you Mason for the advice… it would have been a treacherous and difficult walk, maybe a little dangerous. It was pretty, but perhaps better enjoyed from and air-conditioned vehicle at 50 mph. As we drove we told each other a bit of our stories. Jimmy Jack had a crippling (literally) accident a while back, and is now trying to live on a $700/month pension from the government - don’t know all the details, but know that 700 dollars does not sustain a man, a wife and two kids. They have fallen on hard times, yet they were kind enough to go out of their way to help a total stranger. We talked about people helping one another, and agreed that it is really what it should be all about.
Jimmy Jack and Jennifer dropped me off at the gas station. I asked if I could fill his tank or if I could give him some cash. He said cash was better, could use it to buy food. I give him all the cash in my wallet, wished I had had more, but it was not about that. It was about helping one another. He helped me avoid a bad stretch, I helped him buy food, and I am sure we are equally appreciative.
So here in Brinkley, the inevitable happened, inevitable because anyone walking through the South will eventually end up at Waffle House, and end up I did. Not a lot of choice here, and WH 685 was at the top of the list. Great burger, smothered hash-browns and unsweet tay. Down here, Waffle House is not a restaurant; it is an institution, an establishment, a ritual. It was great.
Few more days in Arkansas, have to figure out Tennessee, and continue in awe of kindness.
Always loved silos.. these are full of rice…
Also found the house I’d live to have… saw in Carlisle, and so you know, the one I like is the little one on the left of the photo.
