I saw a number of really huge signs aside the highway reading, “Arkansas’ largest natural bridge!” How could I not want to follow them like a lamb to slaughter? So I took the heavy, overloaded Jeep, and pursued a dirt road that zigzagged in every direction worse than San Fran’s famous Lombard Street. Did I mention it was a mountain road so I was also going down hill at an increasingly uncomfortable angle. I think the Jeep may have been crying, or at least slightly whimpering. Jeeps are tough after all.
Finally I ended up at a tiny ramshackle little mock-up of a pioneer house and a tiny parking lot. Where’s the bridge? I walked in and the attendant, a young guy, jumped up seemingly all happy to see another living soul. He rattled off everything there was to see here and the $5 fee. Then he instructed me to sign the guestbook and seemed not to know what to say next so I meandered out, only after noticing that in the middle of the day I was the only visitor here and had come from the farthest distance by a long shot. I walked out and saw the little recreation of an Ozark classic, the moonshining still, complete with scary wax figurine armed with a shotgun. Above there was another pioneer house, complete with artifacts from the era, including a coffee grinder the size of a dormitory fridge. There was even an antique fly trap! It looked remarkably like a hanging beekeeper’s hat.
So I walked out down this path in the middle of the woods and there it was, signs reading, “Do not climb or cross bridge! Stay on path!” Above that of course was a strange site, a bridge made of stone, a seemingly natural formation but still somewhat unsettling as it did indeed look like an intended bridge. I took a few snaps, walked up the path as far as I could, goofed around a bit, and came back.. Interesting detour.
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