Mount Nebo (52 Parks: 52 Poems)

Date of Visit: 23 September 2023

Dardanelle, AR

77º and breezy, full sun

After sitting out eight weeks of the hottest temps of the year, I returned to my parks & poetry project with the onset of slightly cooler weather. For my ninth park visit, I chose Mount Nebo, and as promised in the last post, it was a doozy. The morning started well enough as I navigated (by car) the elaborate set of switchbacks on state highway 155 that lead up and up and up to the park entrance, past a gorgeous overlook of the Arkansas River valley, and then on to the Visitor Center. Between 1933 and 1935 the Civilian Conservation Corps played a crucial role in reviving what had once been a thriving resort area on the mountaintop, and I have to thank the CCC for my adventurous day. But, I get ahead of myself. As with all of my trips, I started at the Visitor Center and met several friendly staff members. We talked about my hiking choices, and I set off for the Rim Trail, which boasts some stunning views from the flat top of the 1,350 foot mountain.

The official description of the Rim Trail reads, “Originally blazed in the 1890s, the trail was fully developed by the CCC in the 1930s with the addition of stone steps and retaining walls. Spectacular views spread over 100 miles of the Arkansas River Valley before you, including the 1830s water route of the Trail of Tears and 34,000 acre Lake Dardanelle.” The maps list it as easy-to-moderate, and having already hiked Devil’s Den, Pinnacle, and Petit Jean, I never stopped to read the fine print about the one “strenuous” stretch from hwy 155 to Sunrise Point. Instead, I fell enthralled to the views and set off down the path with nothing but thin air stretching out to the left the entire way. You’ll see in this picture from the trailhead the distinct differences in elevation. At the base of these stairs, I turned east (right) onto a partially dirt and partially sandstone trail. I stopped to take my numerous pictures of lichen and moss covered boulders and appreciated the shade of oaks and hickories. I traipsed down rough-hewn stone steps, thinking of the men who nearly a century ago swung pickaxes and hammered chisels to make my hike possible today.

After stopping to chat with some folx camping and practicing what I first thought was Tai Chi but turned out to be Ba Gua, or Bagua Zhang, a Chinese martial arts form, I crossed hwy 155. About 100 yards after crossing the road and moving east, the trail comes to a glorious promontory rock. I met some oncoming hikers and their dog and then took my turn standing on the edge of the earth, stunned by the landscape rolling by beneath me. And then I stepped back onto the trail, starting to get a bit hungry for my lunch which waited for me back in the car. I came to a series of three tight sets of switchback stairs carved into the mountainside, carved I suspect by the CCC troop all those years ago. I made it down and around the first two with ease and stopped to take a picture of the last set to share with Mom so I could hear her gasp at what I’d traversed. With my phone secured in my pocket and my trekking pole in my right hand, I took the first step down. Unfortunately, I must have looked down through the reading section of my bifocals instead of the distance section and I misjudged the depth of my step. Where I thought my foot would strike stone, it sank through the air and I became instantly unbalanced.

And so, dear readers, I took a fall, the worst fall of my life, but still a fortunate one. A fallen tree brought my tumbling body to a halt, preventing me from sustaining far more serious injuries. No broken bones, but a laceration at the top of my forehead that proved what I’d always heard about head wounds. They do indeed bleed a lot. I came away with a puncture wound to my left knee and took my first ambulance ride. I’m so grateful to Mark & Tory (the EMTs), Ellen (the park ranger), Adam (Yell County 911 Dispatch), David (the first hiker on scene who calmed me down), and to Genevieve and Stephen (the next hikers who also happened to be RNs…I gotta say, if you’re gonna fall off a mountain trail, these are the people you want to meet…double thanks to Stephen who hunted through the brush until he found my glasses!). Finally, huge thanks to the good friends who came to my rescue that day and over the next couple of weeks. You know who you are. I love all y’all.

I’ve already written a poem about the fall, but I’m not sure if it fits the project. I do know that I want to return to Mount Nebo and finish the Rim Trail. I might have to take the advice of one of my wise friends who just turned seven and scoot down those stairs on my butt, but I am nothing if not stubborn and determined.

Next up: Mammoth Spring