A Week in Arkansas

The family rented a house on Petit Jean Mountain in central Arkansas for a week. On our way down, we stopped in Oklahoma City at The American Pigeon Museum. There were three rooms — one on pigeon breeds, one on the use of homing pigeons by the military, and one on pigeon racing. A lot of the items on display were unexplained, and the explanations on the others were hit-and-miss, but it was an entertaining way to spend an hour and break up a long drive. A few live pigeons were in cages behind the building.

On Sunday, I hiked with my brother-in-law at Mount Nebo State Park. That’s Lake Dardanelle down below.

Here’s the house where we spent the week. I tried not to spend too much time there, and when I did, I was often outside around the fire pit.

Shortly after we arrived, I wandered across the road into the state park. The house was directly across from the parking lot for Rock House Cave. When I wandered down on Sunday evening, a choir of young people was giving a gospel music concert deep in the cavern. For various reasons, I suspect they were from a Mennonite church. There were perhaps 30 people in the choir and maybe 10 family members standing around listening.

I walked up the road to track (successfully) two calling Pileated Woodpeckers. I heard a rustling in the woods and spotted a large Coyote walking by not 20-yards away with a large … something in its mouth. My best guess is a chicken.

On Tuesday, I hiked Seven Hollows Trail with my daughter and son-in-law.

There was no water running in the Grotto (or anywhere else). I’ve never seen the park so dry. I almost had the sense that the mountain was broken.

On Wednesday morning, I got up early and took a three-mile walk on the road that loops around the end of the mountain. I did not see another human until the very end of my hike when I spotted a park maintenance worker emptying garbage cans.

Looking west from the overlook.

The now-choirless Rock House Cave

Later in the morning, I walked the Cedar Creek Trail with family members and then explored Bear Cave. This was the most running water we saw anywhere.

In the afternoon, Some of us went to the Rockefeller automobile museum on the mountain, which I’ve toured at least six times before.

On Thursday, six of us drove up Highway 7 to King’s Bluff. There was almost no water running there either, and the trees weren’t turning much, so it was something of a letdown. We did have an enjoyable lunch at a local spot.

On Friday, my son-in-law and I went birding at Holla Bend and Dardanelle Dam. It was one of the slowest birding days I’ve ever had in Arkansas. I suspect the hunters, who were out and about even earlier than we were, chased most of the big birds away. We stopped by Mount Nebo on the way back to the house. This view is looking east. The Arkansas River makes an “S” in the right distance. We were surprised at how small Petit Jean Mountain looked in the distance — a slight rise on the horizon on the right half of the photo.

That evening, family came from all over the state for a birthday party at the house.

We drove all the way home on Saturday, even though we took a round-about way so we could see our daughter in Missouri (and had to drive through a blinding rainstorm on the way). We got home a little after 9:00 pm.

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Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad

This railroad is the longest (67 miles) remaining narrow-gauge railroad in the world. The narrow gauge allows for tighter turns through the mountains. The trip begins in Antonito, Colorado and ends in Chama, New Mexico. Along the way, it crosses the state border 11 times.

We had assigned seats, but once our tickets were punched, we could sit anywhere we wanted. My wife moved over to the left side of the train, which offered better views, and I wandered back and forth from our car to the open observation car to the platforms at the end of the cars.

The first 15 miles or so were through unexciting sagebrush flats, but then we worked our way up in to the mountains. We bought out tickets last spring and tried to pick a weekend when the colors would be at their best. We may have missed the peak by a few days, but we saw a lot of color and aren’t disappointed.

Sublette Station where railroad workers stayed. We stopped long enough to water the engine. In the first photo, you can see it in the distance across the valley.

Mud Tunnel, 342 feet long. It’s shored up by timbers because the ground is porous. I’m pretty sure one of the opening scenes of the movie Bite the Bullet was filmed right here.

Toltec Gorge in the distance.

Rock Tunnel, 360 feet long.

Monument to President Garfield, erected by railroad workers shortly after his assassination.

Our ticket was supposed to include a hot buffet lunch at Osier, but they claimed they’d recently “had a fire.” There was no evidence of this, but instead of buffet, we were given a bag lunch in which was a wet (not moist, wet) ham and cheese sandwich and some other stuff. We didn’t get a reduced fair. The stop at Osier took about an hour while we ate and milled around and while the railroad workers switched engines. A second trainload of tourists had come up from Chama that morning. Some people from that train and ours returned to their starting station,  while others (us included) went on to the end of the line.

There’s a steep 4% grade from Chama to Osier, so they switched engines so the more powerful one would return to Chama and be available to climb the grade the next morning. Our engine was coupled to the the other train and returned to Antonito.

After we left Osier on our way to Chama, we could see the other train on its way to Antonito. I’m always amazed by how dwarfed trains look in the western landscape.

Looking back at Osier after lunch.

There were many cows in the creek valleys. These were accompanied by a large flock of Brewer’s Blackbirds (hanging out on the fence as the train went by).

The valley along this lake was, I’m almost positive, used for many scenes in Bite the Bullet.

Cumbres. The track ran along Route 17 the rest of the way to Chama. The green sign in the background says “Cumbres Pass Summit Elevation 10,022 feet.”

Three views of Windy Point, supposedly famous because the track runs along a shelf carved out of the mountain. The upper cut with the section of trestle, is the railroad. The lower one is Route 17. We drove that road on our way back to Antonito on the bus.

Lobato Trestle carries the train 100 feet above Wolf Creek.

At one point, I found myself alone on a platform with a conductor. I made the mistake of asking him about his job and got a 15-minute commercial for a train class where participants spend $2,700 for a chance to be a fireman on the engine and be the engineer for about five miles. If the guy was any good at reading body language, he wouldn’t have wasted his time.

When we got to Chama, we immediately boarded a bus to take us back to Antonito. We got the very front seats, which gave us a good view of the mountains as we rode back. The driver cracked corny jokes and told us about stuff along the way. We got back about an hour later than we’d been led to expect. It was a three-and-a-half hour drive home, with a quick stop for a cold Whopper at Burger King in Alamosa.

The train ride was great. I enjoyed it more than Durango Silverton, which goes through more impressive scenery but sticks to the creek side in the valley and so didn’t give long views. Cumbres & Toltec, on the other hand, goes along the ridges or the slopes and gives long views all along the way. Both rides were beautiful, but I prefer this one.

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Southern Colorado “Attractions”

We stayed a night in Fort Garland and then drove south to Antonito to ride the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad (next post). Along the way, we made (very) brief stops to see roadside attractions.

Manassa, Colorado — Birthplace of Jack Dempsey

This one caught me by surprise. We were driving through this small town when I saw a statue of a boxer in a park. It triggered a reminder that I’d heard of a boxer named “The Manassa Mauler.” I wasn’t even sure who it was, but I made a quick U-turn and pulled over. Turns out it was Jack Dempsey, heavyweight champion from 1919-1926. The cabin had nothing to do with Dempsey — it was just an example of an inn along the Santa Fe Trail.

Antonito, Colorado — Cano’s Castle

Odd building constructed by a Vietnam Vet. The silver covering on the towers is from flattened beer cans. Sightseers aren’t allowed in the yard. We didn’t even get out of the car.

Antonito, Colorado — Indiana Jones Bed and Breakfast

This house was used as Indiana Jones’ boyhood home in the movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Apparently it isn’t in great shape and the current owner is trying to raise donations to fix it up. We didn’t participate.

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Reptile/Amphibian #34 — Woodhouse’s Toad

anaxyrus woodhousi

Saturday, August 28, 10:50 am

Chatfield State Park, Colorado

I birded at a couple places in the park in the morning. There were birds around, but nothing spectacular. The day was heating up, and I was headed back to my car through a dry cottonwood grove about 80 yards from the Platte River on the south end of the reservoir. I heard a faint rustle in the trail-side grass and spotted this small but rotund toad making its getaway. It was no great effort to step in front of it and get it turned back toward the trail. Four or five repetitions of this gave me the chance to take the photos I wanted. I then left it to do whatever toads do on hot late-August days.

My search on the internet convinced me it was a Woodhouse’s Toad. The identifying features are a pair of L-shaped ridges just behind its eye bumps and in front of those blister-looking patches (called paratoid glands). The ridges are not easy to see — they stand out best in this photo.

As you could probably guess from its physique, its hops were not impressive, although it was livelier than some toads I’ve seen. It was maybe two-inches long and almost as wide. The central breast spot is also a good indication that it’s a Woodhouse’s Toad.

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US Olympic Museum and America the Beautiful Park

The US Olympic Museum, near downtown Colorado Springs, just opened last year. It wasn’t on my radar, but my boss chose it as a destination for a department outing. The building it’s in is rather ugly, in my opinion, like someone turned a tissue box upside-down.

We were there on a Friday and had the place pretty much to ourselves. I can only remember seeing 5 or 6 other visitors. They asked a lot of personal information that was connected to a card we wore around our necks. I made up a name and an email address. We were supposed to pick two sports that would be featured on a customized tour. I chose ping-pong and curling and never saw a display about either one of them, so that was fun.

There were some general exhibits of torches, medals, and posters.

But the vast majority of exhibits were either pieces of equipment used by various athletes or reproductions of items connected to Olympic history. For example, here’s Peggy Fleming’s dress which her mother made to match the color of the liqueur made by monks near the ice-skating venue in hopes of influencing the voting. Really, that’s what the sign said.

Here’s the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” hockey scoreboard, frozen at the moment when the broadcaster said, “Do you believe in miracles?” A lot of the exhibits demonstrated this air of overblown historic significance.

I watched the Olympics in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when the athletes were still amateurs and the Olympics weren’t just a showcase for wokeness. I’ve paid almost no attention since then, so the vast majority of the exhibits were about people and competitions I know nothing about and am not interested in learning.

In one room, there were several interactive opportunities to compete, but they weren’t terribly fun or impressive. Here I am with a coworker racing against a wheelchair sprinter. I came in second.

Another display allowed us to make a “painting” of ourselves in the style of the famous Olympic paintings.

We had four hours to see everything, and I was done in an hour and a half. I walked across the new footbridge to America the Beautiful Park and wandered around. I’ve not gone there before because it’s known as a hangout for the homeless and a good place to get accosted, but it was mostly families and joggers this day.

Water drips down from the top of the ring and the basin becomes a splash pool, but the “fountain” is hard to see even when I was there in person.

The park is named for the song, which Katherine Bates supposedly wrote while standing somewhere near here and looking up at Pikes Peak.

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