Date of Visit: 13 July 2023
Rogers, AR
85º feels like 94º ~ full sun, another heat advisory
A friend of mine had mentioned this day-use only park to me about six months before my visit, and I’d read the park website, of course, but nothing prepared me for the scope of the states largest park, 12,000+ acres, double the size of the next runner-up, Village Creek. The visitor center contains a wealth of information on the flora and fauna of the Ozark forests, as the park and conservation area sprawls across a former logging company site, much like Petit Jean. Located along the southern shore of Beaver Lake, there are also plenty of streams and shoreline to explore. Another remarkable note about Hobbs: it is the only state park where regulated hunting is permitted. Even though I was fairly certain the hiking trails would be “safe,” I confess I had a bit of hesitation over this fact.
After spending nearly an hour reading in the Visitor Center, I headed out to the Ozark Plateau Trail, directly adjacent to the parking lot. This is an ADA compliant asphalt trail that endeared itself to me with its shade, birdsong (buntings, tanagers, and wrens, oh my!), and ease of walking. I fell even more in love with it when I noticed a dirt offshoot on the trail that led to a small talking circle with fallen tree trunks as benches. At the front of the benches rested a sandstone “brick” spray-painted with unless, throwing me into Dr. Seuss’s The Lorax and the lesson that book holds about logging. I confess that I looked around for a moment in search of the The Once-ler!
Later I visited the Historic Van Winkle Trail, the site of the home, mill, and spring of the Peter Van Winkle family during and after the Civil War. The trail itself was beautiful, again with lots of shade trees, but the information presented was troubling. The signage tells of the Van Winkle saw mill and acknowledges that at least 18 slaves “worked” at the mill “on the eve of the Civil War.” These displays never use the word “owned.” The signage makes it a point to state that in 1850 there were 47,100 slaves in Arkansas, but fewer than 200 in Benton County. After visiting Prairie Grove Battlefield, how the state parks approach Arkansas’s history of slavery and oppression of people of color keeps rising to the surface of my visits. And as someone who studies language, how the use of language to present (or not present) the horrors of that history interests, troubles, and disquiets me. I applaud the state parks for creating displays that acknowledge slavery and the treatment of indigenous peoples in the state, but I often find the signage walking a fine line between white-washing and truth-telling. This unsettling continues to be a through-line in all of my park visits to date. As I walked the trail to a portion of the mill foundation along the banks of Clifty Creek, I kept thinking on the presentation and wondering if and how I might discover the “truth” of it all. I have no answers yet.
I rounded out my visit with a hike on the Sinking Stream Trail where everything was damp and fecund after the overnight bout of storms. If it hasn’t become apparent yet, given that much of my hiking in June and July took place during heat warnings, I’ve gained a new depth of appreciation for dense, hardwood forests. This trail gave me a great opportunity to walk in the shade of giant sycamore, oak, and hickory trees. I’ve finally engrained in my knowledge bank the difference between a white oak (rounded leaves) and a red oak (pointy leaves), and I can spot a mockernut hickory from 20 feet away. And all that chalk white bark of the sycamore, well, you don’t even want to get me started. If anyone ever studies this project of mine and finds my cache of trail photos, they will have a ton of tree pictures to swipe through. Trees, creeks, and rocky outcrops, I can’t help it; I’m addicted. Here is pic of what I’ve learned (from visiting Bull Shoals-White River State Park recently) is called a “den tree.” These secret spaces have always fascinated me, but I love them even more now that I know their name. And this is where I return in every park visit, to the idea of being able to name the world around me and in that way, somehow establish this as my home.
At this point, I’ve visited 12 parks, blogged about 7 (counting Hobbs), and have drafts for 8, all but my latest 3 just visited and Hobbs. This poem is being shy. Perhaps the blogging will help the core of the poem surface.
Up next: Withrow Springs
