I learned something recently. There is a little rock after which the city of Little Rock was named. (Well, actually, it was named by the French, so it was called La Petite Roche.) It was the first rock outcropping along the banks of the Arkansas River upstream from the Mississippi River.
As soon as I found this out, I determined to find it and photograph it. It turned out not to be all that easy. The rock was used as the foundation for one end of Junction Bridge. Junction Bridge is being converted into a pedestrian/bicycle bridge and the entire area leading up to it is under construction and blocked off. My wife and I refused to give up. We walked back and forth until we found a place where we could get down to the shore and walk back toward the bridge. A display in a nearby shelter included a photo of the rock, so we knew what we were looking for.
We walked out on a cement embankment and — there it was!
Yep. That’s it. Right there in the center foreground. That’s “the” Little Rock. Exciting, no? I can’t imagine why the city doesn’t publicize it more.
I am sitting here completely enthralled by this little rock — its shape and facets, the way it catches the sunlight, the fact that it has stood there for ages silently watching the ebb and flow of the river tides …
This is nothing short of poetry in rock form.
Is that an outhouse right above it?
Your tenacity is … admirable?