Driven: Arkansas 123

Where do you find the most challenging drive in the Ozarks? It's as easy as Arkansas 123.

Among the many entertaining routes that thread the Boston Mountains, Arkansas 123 stands apart. It's too sharp, narrow, and raw to be promoted in any state literature, so casual sightseers are shuffled towards designated Scenic Highways like 71, 23, 21, and 7. You have to go out of your way to find 123, which means everyone on the road is either local or there on purpose. While we know and love a gold standard like the Pig Trail, so does every over-the-hill diddler between Little Rock and Pig Trail Harley-Davidson in Rogers. Notoriety and slowpokes tend to spoil a good time. For now, 123 is a hidden gem.



The drive starts in earnest at Hagarville, where it leaves the Arkansas River Valley near Clarksville and climbs North into the Ozark Mountains. The highway builds intensity as it gains elevation, pausing to join with Highway 7 after about 25 miles. This Southern portion of AR-123 is an absolute driver's road. Steep scenery and engaging curves, but little traffic.



The Northern half of Arkansas 123 splits from 7 after a few miles. We might as well call this 13-mile stretch der Nordschleife, like the infamous race circuit of similar length near Nürburg, Germany. The Nürburgring was nicknamed the "Green Hell" by Formula 1 racing legend Jackie Stewart, and 123 is the closest approximation the Natural State can muster.

[Arkansas 123 on Google Maps]

My recent experience on the AR-123 Nordschleife left out the "green" part, but kept the "Hell." The Forest Service was performing a controlled burn in the region, filtering the sky to a sickly orange cast. An ice storm two months prior had savaged the landscape, leaving splintered trees as far as visibility allowed. The effect was like stealing into Mordor. With less dwarves.



For our purposes, Mount Doom is replaced by the town of Mount Judea, Arkansas. If that sounds a bit ancient and Biblical, you're right. The most exciting part of AR-123 is draped atop the crude terrain between Kent Mountain and Dick Knob (not making that up) just South of Mount Judea. Having only been paved for the last decade, the bit of road in question was never engineered for much flow, camber, or safety at highway speeds. What you get is a three-mile melee of blind curves and damning hairpins, intermittently bound by curbs and guardrails.



Obviously, there is zero room for error if you think you need to hurry. Get it wrong, and you'll pong between hard objects if you're lucky. Misjudge in some spots, and you'll only discover gravity and pain. Sure, this is only dangerous for fools, but the road doesn't exactly cater to tourists, either.



The attraction of Arkansas 123 is that it's just there, a rough carving through beautiful territory, waiting to be discovered and enjoyed. You're given creative license to figure out the rest.

Traffic: light
Driving challenge: for once, there is one
Purty mouth: fortunately, too isolated for anyone to notice
Ozarkbahn rating: hard to top

A Sign of Things to Come

Some of best signage I've seen in the last few months.


You'll likely pass this one backwards. And on fire.


"For Rent."


Happy truck drivers steer clear.


Don your mining caps.


A warning like this warms the heart (and the brakes).


You should know where.

Able to guess any? You'll see more related to each in the future.

Ozark parks: Lake Atalanta

As Spring warmth drives people into (arg, squint) natural light, our favorite Ozark parks do a thriving business. What about our no-so-favorite parks, the ones without the sheen and interest?



Lake Atalanta in Rogers is the model of forgettable green space and forgotten charm. Admittedly, I went there dozens of times without realizing it was named with the extra 'a' like the huntress of Greek mythology, rather than the capital of Georgia. If you need a little help remembering this place, Rogers historian James Hale penned a decent, if rosy, primer here:

[Remembering Rogers: The Lake Atalanta area yesterday and today]

In brief, Lake Atalanta is a small Depression-era construction that occupies a rocky valley near downtown Rogers. It's a city park catering to the basics: fishing, walking, picnics, and playgrounds. Into fitness? Pull up your leg warmers and try the eighties-fresh "Gamefield" exercise challenges that dot the road at intervals around the lake.



Once a happening spot for locals, the park has been struck with the same fortunes as the older side of Rogers. Compared to the sparkling Pinnacle Hills development to the West, the Eastern half of Rogers seems a little lackluster in places. Wealth and construction moved to cozy up with Wal*Mart headquarters in recent years, leaving behind a few shuttered businesses and a poorer, often browner population. To this end, crowing shut-ins seem to think contemporary Lake Atalanta has slid into an orgy of stabbings, drug use, non-English-talkin', and anonymous gay sex after dark. I haven't stuck around after hours to confirm, but a dry-county bore like Rogers can rarely report anything so, err, dramatic past sunset.



Lake Atalanta has gone downhill since its heyday, but has it become a derelict blight? Hardly. I went for a walk recently, and was surprised by the number of people drawn out by a warm weekday afternoon. The condition of the park is no worse than it was decades ago. In fact, it looks exactly the same as when I was six, a happy medium of shabby, but scenic mediocrity.

That's not a bad thing. Often the best hang-outs are those only locals know and care about. A quiet place to practice the quaint and mundane is a classless pleasure.



The Ozarks have a number of lakeside city parks that seem to escape the public conscious for lack of big-ticket attractions. Lake Leatherwood by Eureka Springs, Lake Fayetteville, and Lake Atalanta are a few that come to mind. They're appealing in their simplicity, and worth the attention.

Ozarkbahn ratings
Geese poop: omnipresent
Fishability: high
Eighties hair: feeling the burn

Stopover: Anderson, MO

There was a time when everyone knew Anderson, Missouri, as a ticket-slinging speed trap. Total Ozarkbahn heresy, a town to be avoided. A few years ago, a new and modern stretch of four-lane US71 routed the ticket fodder elsewhere, and the heat died down.

[Anderson, MO on Google Maps]



Is Anderson is owed a second look? Absolutely, and it's solid gold.

First of all, the liquor store on the corner as Missouri 76 curves towards downtown. It makes me believe in a place where high fives still rule and bikini posters are still allowed to tell you that it's always five o'clock somewhere.



Let's break this down. All the signage, without exception, appears to have been painted while drunk. And what is that? Stucco? There's a '73 Mustang Coupe on whitewalls parked out front, and a 3D gold Coors can on the wall. The name of the place is Al's Cigar Store (one assumes), but Al isn't one-dimensional. He has you covered with lottery tickets and beer that ain't no warm, pansy-strength 3%.



If that's not enough, right next door is a hipster shack of dreams. Feast upon the beautiful, non-ironic PBR signs from years ago. No telling what's inside, but my guess is that it's stacked to the ceiling with crisp, hard-workin' domestic swill.

Anderson's other hot spot is an explosion of roadside retro, an antique store across the street from a hot rod shop.



This place I like. My grandfather was an oil man with Esso, the brand that "put a tiger in your tank." And hey, there's the tiger. Robbie the Robot and the Jolly Green Giant, too.



Stay classy, Anderson. High five.

Driven: Missouri 59

McDonald County, Missouri, once succeeded from the Union. Not in 1861, as was popular at the time, but in 1961. You know, the same decade we flew to the Moon and back.

The most Southwestern county in Missouri was once a thriving tourist destination. When accidentally left out of the yearly Family Vacationland map published by the Missouri State Highway Commission, residents were rightly enraged. What to do? No, not incest. They formed the McDonald Territory, complete with its own postage stamps and militia, to make sure you enjoyed the Hell out of your visit.

[McDonald Territory on Wikipedia]

Through most of the Territory's original firebrands have likely died of cirrhosis and accidental gunshot wounds, much of the original roadside appeal remains. The main artery within this throbbing heart of Ozark tourism is Missouri 59, a 13-mile ribbon of pavement that winds its way from the Arkansas border up to Anderson, Missouri.

[Missouri 59 route on Google Maps]

The first sight for a Northbound traveler is Stateline Liquor, a rock-clad station adorned with a kitschy send-up of Li'l Abner. Hyar' tis, y'all. Frighteningly, the half-done overalls and jug of moonshine are fairly representative of a few contemporary locals.



Closer to Noel, MO, are some fine examples of mid-century motor inns like the Starlight Motel and Bell-Aire. When photographing the latter, three grizzled men in flannel exited the office and were very concerned that I was taking pictures of their quaint motel. After a brief exchange of grunts and musket fire, I made a hasty retreat. But hey, there's no need to stick around when there's so much more rustic charm to enjoy.



Indian Creek Roadside Park features Flintstone-esq native stone tables perfect for lunching on a dinosaur sandwich. There you can also read a historical marker describing the county's legacy of "bitter dispute" and clashes with U.S. Marshalls, "slickers," and Northern aggressors. Sadly, the scrappy pro-Southern county was unable to reverse the tide in the War of Between the States. You can see in the picture where a local rebel spray-painted his displeasure with the outcome. Can't win 'em all.



Still, I have to be fair. This section of Missouri 59 is a beautiful drive lined with curiosities, relics, and in-your-face scenery. At points, the highway is sandwiched between the Elk River and rock bluffs that hang low over the highway, one of the most brilliant sights in the Ozarks. While small towns like Noel and Lanagan are hard-luck shadows of a forgotten tourist trade, they maintain a character lost elsewhere. Few chain stores have invaded, leaving the existing developments occupied by an odd mix of homespun rural and Hispanic businesses. Even the old-fashioned wooden posts remain at the road's edge instead of dull steel guardrails. Missouri 59 is curvy, scenic, unique, and a bit retrograde, which makes it 100% Ozarkbahn.



Traffic: average
Driving challenge: a few good curves, but more views than thrills
Purty mouth: definitely better not have one
Locals: you ain't from around here
Ozarkbahn rating: hootenanny deluxe

Over the River and Through the Ozarks

In my earliest teens, there were only two things to do: go through puberty, and play Oregon Trail on the Apple II.

While hunting buffalo and getting dysentery on the 'Trail with your digital pioneer family, you often faced the biggest challenge on your way to the West: river crossings. Unless the ferry suddenly started accepting delicious buffalo meat, there's no way you could afford that. "Do you want to ford the river?" Hell yes, let's do this. Inevitably, your poorly-caulked wagon capsized, all your oxen drowned, and the surviving family members died of dysentery. A macabre way to go.



Fortunately, bridges over rivers have become high fashion since 1848. The fun part about the older spans is that they're among the few relics that you can drive a car onto. Genuine drive-through history, and the Ozarks have them in spades.

Powell Bridge - Big Sugar Creek

[Powell Bridge on Bridgehunter.com]
[Joplin Globe - Group Saves Historic Bridge]

A WWI-era truss held together by rust, Powell Bridge has been marked for replacement once already. A concern local effort preserved it (for now), but it's worth visiting before time or progress final claims it. The bridge requires a short detour off highway Missouri-E in Powell, which prevents it from having the same star power as the more recognizable War Eagle Mill Bridge of similar age. However, the light traffic allows you to walk the wooden deck and absorb a serene view of the turquoise-colored Big Sugar Creek.


Lanagan Bridge - Indian Creek

[Lanagan MO-EE bridge on Bridgehunter.com]

Just outside Lanagan, highway Missouri-EE crosses Indian Creek on a narrow, ornate truss built in 1928. Not the oldest around, but it's a lot more visually appealing than the flat concrete blights that have replaced most of these. Didn't crossing a river used to be an oxen-losing adventure? If you're going to conquer the landscape, give it some presence with girders, rivets, and steel like the good old days.


Ozark Bridge - Finley Creek

[Ozark Riverside Drive Bridge on Bridgehunter.com]

The single-wide truss over Finley Creek in Ozark, Missouri, has seen 100 years of service, and is still in regular use. It's a nice part of the setting at the Riverside Inn next door, which has served some of the best catered food I've ever had, shaming countless rubber banquet meals of functions past. The Ozark Mill bridge nearer town is also a classic, but the fried chicken is better if you drive a few miles further.


War Eagle Creek Bridge

[War Eagle Mill Bridge on Bridgehunter.com]

For years the War Eagle bridge has been the backdrop to everything from crafts fairs to Ferrari meets, and is a staple of Ozark tourism. The bridge is an airy steel truss with wooden deck dating to 1907, and sits next to the even older War Eagle Mill. The building has been a functional water-wheel mill for the better part of 200 years, old enough to have been burned down in the Civil War (the true litmus test of anything "historical" in the South). Unless you visit during the hellish craft fair season, it's a great drive from either direction, and picturesque without fail.


Bridges? Because they beat caulking your car shut and fording it the hard way.

[More photographs here]

Northwest Arkansas: the Original Jurassic Park

In years past, the Ozarks harbored great numbers of the finest roadside treasure of all: dinosaurs.

I remember the youthful awe of the animatronic Dinosaur Days 1986 exhibit at the refurbished University of Arkansas Museum, where the old men's gym was turned into a zoo of life-sized and mildly frightening robo-sauruses from Dinamation.

I also remember the joy of being driven through the Land of Kong fiberglass dinosaur park West of Eureka Springs, where the prehistoric reptiles were slightly less...animated.

[Land of Kong, a.k.a. Dinosaur World at Roadside America]


A sporty somethingasaurus from the Roadside Architecture page.

Even the Fun Land miniature golf course was in its prime by the 1980s, sporting dinosaurs right off College Avenue in Fayetteville. It was no coincidence that Spielberg adapted Jurassic Park to the big screen just a few years later.

Sadly, Dinosaur World closed, along with Fun Land and the University of Arkansas Museum. Fortunately, the dinosaurs live on. Someone put together an excellent gallery here:

[Dinosaurs of Arkansas]

Today I confirmed that the Fun Land T-rex and triceratops sit on a hill along US 412, just a few miles East of Springdale. A propane store in Huntsville adopted the gawky stegosaurus, snapped below:



But that's not all. Mountainburg City Park still maintains its herd right off old Highway 71. Big ups, Mountainburg. You keep the dream alive.

[Google Street View]

We've made living biological attractions so astounding that they'll capture the imagination of the entire planet.
- John Hammond, Jurassic Park