Toothless in Arkansas

Cruising through Little Rock, the capital city of Arkansas, we thought it looked like a decent enough little city.

But when Arkansas' licence plates read "The Natural State" we thought we owed it to ourselves to  head straight for the Ouachita Mountains.

This is a huge swathe of National Forest running through Arkansas' centre.

With Hot Springs National Park closed thanks to the federal shutdown, we contented ourselves with a drive through the township itself, mostly derelict by the look of things.

Onwards we pushed to Lake Ouachita State Park where we found a campsite by the water and in the morning I walked/jogged the Caddo Bend Trail (7 km return from the campsite).

Apart from a few woodpeckers and what I'm sure was a beaver beating its tail, I was left unharrassed. I'm certainly braver again now the bears are very few and far between.

Petit Jean State Park was then only a short drive up highway 7 to the north east. It sits on a high plateau overlooking the surrounding farmland.

Cedar Falls, the Park's highlight, was barely trickling, but we made friends with a little armadillo on our way to the overlook.

This was the first of perhaps ten armadillos we were to see, both alive and dead, as we travelled Arkansas' roads.

With the campsites full to the brim, we grabbed a spot in 'overflow' for a couple of nights and had a beautiful lakefront spot all to ourselves for the first of those nights.

Lake Bailey supported all sorts of life, including honking flocks of geese, huge lilly pads and noisy cicada-like insects.

Emboldened by the seeming isolation of our little spot, the three 'boys' decided to create a club house using the oak and maple trees beside us as a base and by scavenging for bits of timber.

Indy erected a 'no girls allowed' sign, so mummy contented herself with relaxing and reading inside Bessie and occasionally delivering some supplies.

It was almost Lord of the Flies time when dad fashioned a sling-shot out of timber, elastic bands and some torn fabric.

He made sure to explain the rules to the other 'boys', including not aiming at each other or any other animals (wise words sensai!)

In many ways, this two-day slingshotting, boys club fest was in keeping with where we were.

Almost every second person in Arkansas wears camo gear, so they clearly like their huntin'. But I get the feeling the fashions go beyond the hunt.

You need to pick up your script from the pharmacy? Put on your camo.

You run out of milk and pop down to the grocery store? Put on your camo.

You drive around (anywhere) in your 4x4? Put on your camo.

The adults wear camo. The kids wear camo. I'm surprised the dogs don't wear camo. Maybe they do and I just didn't see them.

But the biggest surprise for us in Arkansas was when Indy's bottom tooth started wobbling.

A couple of days later, he finished an apple and announced the last bite had tasted a bit funny. Brilliant!

Then the tears flowed as he started to wonder whether the tooth fairy might not come because he didn't have a tooth to give her.

Never fear - it's nothing that a determined mummy, a day's wait and a pair of latex gloves can't fix.

We exited Arkansas over the Winding Stair Mountain drive, an obvious favourite of bikers with its rollercoaster dips and its winding curves through forest.

It was certainly nice enough and lots of people were stopping to take photos of the scenery, but I can't say that we were all that 'taken' with it.