Woody & My IBF

Did you know that they grow rice in Arkansas? I learned that today as well as exactly what a combine is. I love farm machinery I just don't have any idea what it does. Anyhow, as is my habit now, get on highway and immediately get off highway to Visitors Center. My hostess is a rather large youngish black lady with a totally unexpected voice. She has that cheepy little sound like the girl in Gone With The Wind who said "I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies." Just saying. She already has an Arkansas map for me with a tourist book to boot. I showed her the dotted line that is supposed to be scenic. She looks skeptical and raises her eyebrows but somehow very politely says that it is a lot of farmland. Since I like the dotted line roads, she also gives me a pamphlet on the Scenic Byways of Arkansas. I tell her I hear there is someone who makes pies in Vallis Bluff or something. Her face lights up. "The pie lady!" Study map in car. Since I am a little ahead of schedule, decide to take the Great River Road all the way down to Helena (Arkansas not Montana). Which is where all the trouble began.

Everything started as usual and I found myself in a nice country groove. See the black soil Benny was talking about. Also saw some rather tan rather dry stuff. Lots of trash on the sides of the road. I have not seen that before in Arkansas but on the other hand I have been in Arkansas for less than 30 minutes. Trying to figure out all this paper that looks like it has been rained on and sort of clotted up. Lightbulb over head. Cotton. I wonder if we are where cotton is growing? Look at fields. Dry dirt with little brown stubs or nothing at all. Turn bend. Cotton! Cotton is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen growing in a field, even better than the sunflowers the family planted in the lower 40. I have only seen a lttle branch with a cotton ball (although we learned it is actually a boll) in elementary school science class. Or was it geography? Anyhow, this is cotton. Had to make it bigger so you could see it but it is nothing like it is in person. Note to you: see cotton growing in field. Later see cotton bales which are the size of train cars and just seem to be put together by gravity although they are also squished very tightly. Wonder how they do that? God-size Legos.

Enjoying the farmland and realizing I am somewhere near the Mississippi, take Horseshore which looks very pretty on map. Also note on map that the line between Mississippi and Arkansas winds around both sides of the rivers and cuts off little blobs of land on the wrong side with no apparent reason. Why can't they just use the river as the division? Someone must know the divider-of-states guy. Beautiful waterfront looks like summer houses most of which are for sales. Realize that Great River Road signs are green with white ship's wheels. Get to Marian. Can't get out of Marian. It is another Elizabethtown KY. Try 1. Try 69. Attempt to find 48 or something. Find sign. Follow sign. Getting further into nowhere but then find a nice lake area. There is a boat launch. And there is a white-wheel sign. Continue. Gravel road then dirt road. You can imagine how much Woody likes that. After 3 or 4 miles I am committed. I should not have been. Sit at intersection of dirt road and dirt road and large pickup comes by. Driver solemnly nods at me. I cannot possibly be on the right road. Turn around. This is unusual for me. Get back to Marian. Spin out in another direction like the whatever you put in the rubber band slingshot on that flat wood "gun" you got for Christmas.

Decide to look for Valls Falls or something like that where there is the Pie Lady. Get to gas station. Guy with gas can seems to be filling up for his tractor too. Big conversation. I want the pie lady. Black one or white one? If I had not read Roadfood, I would not know the answer. It's a good thing that I also saw the picture of the place because I never, ever would have found it. As it was, I had to ask directions from a bunch of different people withing 1/tenth of a mile. Finally nice guy with pickup truck (I forgot his name but it was like Craig but not) comes down road and tells me to follow him. 500 feet. As he told me the first place, it is across the street from Craig's which I should know where is. It has BBQ and he doesn't eat much there anymore. The other places aren't near here. Go down alley.

This is the pie shop. If she doesn't have any pies left I should go see the white lady who is down the road and has a sign in front and I can't miss it. Also, Craig's across the street serves her pie, the black lady's that is. Pickup guy tells me again that I can always go to white lady's place. Wonder if he's related. Anyhow, sneak around the pie shop. It has an Open sign on the screen door, attached by those rubber spring things in pretty colors. This is not a picturesque quasi-dump. It is a dump. Fascinating but still a dump. Peek in and find 4 stools with the stuffing coming out of the red vinyl tops. Lots of white pie boxes next to the stools. All the way up to the ceiling. I desperately want to take pictures but it doesn't seem the right thing to do. The pie lady is in the kitchen which has a low space where you can see her from the stools. The kitchen floor is at a bit of an angle in at least two directions. The pie lady is totally engrossed at the stove with a giant whisk in a pot. She wears several aprons tied one on top of the other. She looks over with a scowl on her face. Can I help you? she says without turning to look at me. CAN I HELP YOU? I try to smile and engage in coversation but she is having none of it. Maybe I caught her at a bad time. I hope I caughter her at a bad time because I have visions of a very nice old black lady contentedly rolling out crust and pulling steaming pies from the oven. There are all sorts of blackened implements next to a shiny red Kitchenaid mixer. The mixer is hiding behind all the stuff. I ask what she is making. Filling. I ask if she has any pies left. Chocolate and coconut. Coconut! She takes it out of the equally incongruous steel refrigerator, brings it around to my side and puts it in a box asks for $9. I give her $20. Don't you have a ten? I look and I do. The pie lady goes back into the kitchen toward her pot and foot-long whisk. Have you been doing this for a long time? Awhile. Awhile. And turns her back.

Put pie in car without looking at it. It's like Christmas and I don't want to open my presents until the morning. See Craig's BBQ across the street (duh!) and even though it is also a dive, decide to eat there. Two handsome, strapping young men are in a corner. I ask what is good. Pork but they probably don't have any left which is understandable given that it is 1:30. But they do probably have beef. Look at inside door and horizontal window and presume I order there like I did at Spicy Chicken in Nashville. I do not. She comes out. The do not have pork but they do have beef. I will have beef and beans on the side. I would like the regular not the large size sandwich. The meat is very saucy and the sandwich also has a vinegary cole slaw on it. It is really interesting and I think I can get to like this style although the jury is still out. The dining room has a really neat decorative wall paper or paint job or whatever. It is all old little girls and trees but not in a primitive southern way but in a refined early american way. Wonder where it came from. Floors and walls akimbo. Beans very, very good. Smoky. This is my Craig's beef sandwich.

This is Crag's and from a different angle this is Craig's too.

Go out to car and consult map to decide where to go next. There is a straight road. Decide to take straight road. It goes to Stuttgart where there is a museum of prarie life. Pass sign for England. Am I really that far off course?

Pass big farm plant stuff like silos and those things where they put the grain into truck and other big aluminum stuff. See incongruent outdoors store like Cabella's with huge mallard duck with spread wings in front. See Jeep Bronco for sale. Continue up road. Turn around. Need to see the Bronco. This is it. The sign says to call Sue or John. Sue drives out of what appears to be a hunting factory of some kind. John comes out with a tradesman's apron on. The Bronco has 115,000 miles on it and needs some work. John is asking $6,000 but Sue whispers to me that I should make an offer because he hasn't had any. Good tires. Pretty good interior. 4-wheel drive. I think it's worth about $2000. Don't make offer. Kid would love it, though.

While I'm here, decide to take a look at huge flying mallard next door. This is the duck. The structures behind it are for sale. They are for hunting birds. The name of the store is Mac's Prairie Wings. It is America's Premiere Waterfowl Outfitter. I know this because it says so right on the building. This is Mac's. You have to take my word for it that it's not anywhere near a WalMart. It is in the middle of nowhere and all by itself.


Go to Stuttgart. It is right in the middle of all that aluminum farm building stuff. Find museum. This is the Museum of the Arkansas Grand Prairie. It is still open (I think it's about 3:30 which is late in the prarie). When you go in the museum there is one of those lucide floor boxes that you put donations in like you do in the Philadelphia Museum of Art when it is Museum Monday and they don't charge you anything. Drop a 5. Sign guest register.




This is Gena Seidenschwartz. I know that schwarz is black and I ask what seiden is. Silk. This is Stuttgart. It was founded by a preacher from Stuttgart Germany. There are lots of German names here. I ask Gena what I should know about this place. I should look at that glass tube. You cannot tell it is there but this is the glass tube on the right. Stuttgart has very interesting soil. Below six inches of really rich black dirt, there is 5 inches of clay. Sounds like my garden in which I cannot grow anything unless I put another foot of mushroom soil on it and live with the fungus. Turns out that this soil structure is perfect for rice because the clay holds the water. Note to self: take out echinacea and plant rice. Stuttgart is a big rice producer. Who knew? This also explains the waterfowl hunting. The Museum Of The Arkansas Grand Prairie has a Waterfowl Discovery Wing. I do not need a guide here because I know what waterfowl are as we have them in the east too but I do not know which flyway we have and they do but I don't remember what they said. There is a coat made of 450 mallard duck heads (but I don't think they have the eyes or beaks) made by a woman who dressed ducks. My guide asks me if I know what dressing ducks is. I do. It is cutting out their insides. Deer get dressed too. I eat them.

Speaking of my guide, her name is Nancy (or some other similarly solid name) Eiden-Camp. She is a lovely old lady and it turns out that she was instrumental in opening the museum. It was in 1972 or 1974 if you count the time it took to get all the donations from the townspeople. They all wanted to pitch in. This is an enormously professional place with exhibits like you'd see in any good historical/natural history museum anywhere but all the captions have been painstakingly hand-written. There are cases with artifacts that match a portion of life out here on the praire, like quilts and washing machines and so on. And a horseshoe which is big and flat and makes it possible for horses to walk in the rice fields like a snowshow. Also a place for the Reverend whatever who started this town. Hidden in a case by the Waterfowl Discovery Wing is Queen Mallard memorabilia. This is the crown used from 1965-1967. 1965 is listed twice. I wonder if there were two pagenats that year. This is the Queen's scepter which is very cool looking in person with a sheaf of rice (I think) and a Christmas ornament in the middle. Note to self: figure out how to take pictures of stuff in glass cases without having flash thing in photo.

Stuttgart also had an airfield in it during World War II. Prisoners of war worked here. Germans and Eye-talians.This is picture with an old car (!) illustrating the commeraderie between the various ethnicities.








And now the great stuff. Here is farm machinery like you can't believe. There is an aquarium here with goldfish and no catfish but they used to have a catfish in it to show the history of catfish farming in Stuttgart. They were the third largest something in catfish production. This is the garage part they they just raised enough money to enclose. It was open before and the machinery was getting weathered. This is another view.

And this is a combine. Here's the scoop: there were two kinds of machines, a binder to put sheafs of rice together so that they can get to the right amount of moisture to harvest otherwise the rice will rot, and a cutter (or something like that) which cuts the stalks off to go to the binder. When you put these both together, voila! A combine. The combine cuts the stalks and spits the straw out the back end. I think they do this when they already know what the moisture is so the rice goes directly into sacks. Mrs. Eiden-Camp doesn't remember the sacking but she has a picuture. Mrs. Eiden-Camp grew up here and she knows all about farming. She shows me steam-driven tractors and hand plows and horse-drawn stuff and a 1901 Oldsmobile! There are two wings for farm machinery, one on each end of the museum. I learn that the combines now have airconditioning and GPS and a moisture meter so that they know when to cut the rice and they don't have to sheaf it. They know exactly how much they can cut at any time. There is also a part of the museum that looks like Main Street in Disney World with pretend stores: Mercantile, doctor's, millnery, sweet shop, post office and jail. The jail is really creepy as it is a big cage of 4 in wide iron strapping. It looks like the pictures of where they used to put very bad people or slaves.

There is also an exhibit sponsored by Riceland, one of two coop processors in town. It shows raw rice, brown rice where they take the very outer stuff off, white rice where the more inner stuff is taken off and when it is broken they use it for dog food and a whole lot for beer. There is also rice flour in case you have gluten intoleraance and rice oil which they have been making in Japan for a long time. I made Mrs. Eiden-Camp let me hold the raw rice. It is nearly 4:30 so we need to finish up. Mrs. Eiden-Camp wants to take a picture of Woody but she has left her camera in her other coat pocket. Regretably, leave.

Drive drive drive. Pass Minnow Farm. It is not small. I guess you have to get bait somewhere but I can't say I've ever thought about it. Decide to go to Pine Bluff. I think it is still in Arkansas. Coming into town, I catch a slight whiff of Jacksonville Florida which is due to paper mills. Think nothing of it. Begin to see log trucks. This doesn't strike me as particularly significant as there were lots of these in West Virginia. See sign: Port of Pine Bluff. Port? We are in the middle of Arkansas. Oh, Arkansas river which I think leads into the Mississippi. Note to self: check geography. And then everything begins to make sense. The Port of Pine Bluff handles wood products, as in paper and lumber.According to its Wiki, "It is the large number of paper mills in the area that gives Pine Bluff its, at times, distinctive odor, a feature known prominently among Arkansans." Other products include cotton, soybeans, cattle, cottonseed oil and manufacturing of wire products and electric transformers. Not sure how the latter fit in, but there you have it.

This is the first time on this road trip that I have decided to stop before 6:30, or 7:30 or 8:30 for that matter. Try to figure out where to go next which I usually do the following morning. Very indecisive. Of course, check into Holiday Inn Express. I will have pie for dinner. This HIE has it right re the coffee maker, sort of. They filter thing and the pot are both covered in plastic. It is in the bathroom though. This is a hygenic coffee pot.

This is my coconut pie after I've put my fingers and a little, tiny airplane spoon in it. Really great crust. The merengue is only about an inch high which some people think is paltry but I like quite a bit. See how the pie lady puts her spatula in criss-crosses? Have half pie for dinner. Leave rest for I don't know who. 

Poke around Barnes and Nobles. The travel section is arranged by region. I can get things for the Rocky Mountains. I can get things for Washington DC. I can even get stuff for Nepal but I cannot find anything at all on Missouri and Arkansas. Ask help desk guy (they call them "booksellers"). Told him the Midwest region is missing. He checks. It is. Maybe because nobody goes there, he said. I can order them. I told you that I am on a road trip to nowhere and I don't know where they'd send him. He shrugs and walks away. I was not snippy. I promise. This is the map section with no Arkansas map. I think it is supposed to be in the empty space next to Alaska.Order latte and greasy bacon and cheese sandwich that comes in the saran wrap that they microwave. Study map. Can't figure out how to get to Arkansas. Check email.

Today I have discovered that Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky are all the same place, and Kentucky goes all the way to California. Having to make time to get to Angola, hit road toward St. Louis. Wanted to see Missouri. Have to go through Kentucky as this is what you must do whenever you are driving somewhere. At first gas stop meet Larry. This is Larry. Larry delivers water heaters for Beard's and if I'm ever back there and I see the Beard's truck I should wave at him. Larry rides motorcycles and has lots of good geographical advice. Like you cannot cross the Ohio River in Louisville. Let me say this again. You. Can. Not. Cross. The. Ohio. River. You cannot escape Kentucky. I told you it runs all the way to California. You can't cross the Ohio because the bridge is out. Instead you must take I-65 north and then I-64 south again. It is very difficult to do this because everyone is doing it and you must go 10 miles an hour which is very hard in the woodster. Anyway, I like Larry. At the BP I also meet an 80 year old guy who expects me to be surprised he's 80. He is very hard working and has never taken a dime of welfare or food stamps and he raised four children and four grandchildren. He still works and has come here because his tractor is out of gas. Mr. I-never-found-out-who likes old cars. He is driving a 1966 Cadillac. It is huge. I ask him how he parks that thing. In his garage. The Lincoln Continental has to stay outside. Try to figure out where to go now that I realize I have to go over the headwaters of the Ohio to get any place west of here. Use largest, cleanest gas station restroom I have ever seen. Note to self: always go to BPs. After studying map, I tell Larry I'd like to go to this dotted line (scenic) road to Leavenworth. I got excited and then realized it is Leavenworth Indiana and not Kansas. Was excited to be doing the penitentiary tour of the central states. Larry shows me the bend in the road where there is a restaurant called the Outlook where you can sit about a hundred feet from the Ohio. Set out for Outlook. Tear my hair out trying to get across Ohio. Remember that I became a Baptist in Louisville and prayed to the lord to get me to the other side of the river. Survive. Drive drive drive.

The dotted road is not exactly what I expected. It is scenic in that it is not a highway but does not run along the river as advertised. It is like West Virginia but not scary. Drive drive drive. I am trying to make time but do it pleasantly. Drive drive drive. Approach larger tiny town. Maybe this is where the Outlook is. Don't see it and don't go down the side streets to look either. Cross bridge. Not sure what river this is but it may or may not be the Ohio. Drive drive drive. Get to Leavenworth. Note picturesque Stephenson's General Store. Pass General Store. Regret it as it may be the last potty I see in another few hours. Tenth of a mile later see Outlook Restaurant! It is indeed on the river and has an unbelievable view. This is the Outlook. This is the sideways view from the Outlook. 

This is a lovely family taking pictures by the Outlook. This is some coal barges. Oops. Didn't get coal barges in.  

This is another picture and this is one more. Sorry that I am not hungry as this place would really be a good one. Go back to General Store to get soda and go to the restroom.

This is Stephenson's General Store. The outside says they have camping supplies. I guess there is a lot of camping around here. Ask counter lady. Yes they have a lot of state parks here and basically all the rest is okay for camping too. There is always enough room for everybody. Stephenson's also has a huge restroom. It seems that everyone around these parts likes to have large clean restrooms. Fine by me. In the restroom there is a ball jar with a pump on it for the soap. They are for sale except they are out of them right now.

Stephenson's also carries fancy soda. Here in the middle of nowhere. Stewart's. Jones. And Stephenson's General Store brand. Also Dad's red cream soda which still tickles me. Walk out with three sodas which is a bad idea because I usually buy a soda when I have to use the restroom. This is the sodas.

This is Woody in Stephenson's parking lot. And this is the minivan parked in front of it (no picture but use your imagination). Driver comes over to admire Woody. Minivan has Florida plates. Explain that I grew up there and he wants to know what school I went to. Slides open minivan side door to display full house of older people with those huge wraparound sunglasses on. The lady in the far back seat is Judith Martins. She taught English at Shorecrest which is where my sister went. I explained that she would definitely know my sister as she was a real troublemaker and ended up graduating from that weird alternative school. Judith doesn't think she ever had her in class but knows of her. This was 35 years ago. Explained that sister became an English teacher. Judith raised her eyebrows. 

Drive drive drive. Eyes getting tired (damn Lasik) and beginning to drive directly into sun. Decision time. Stay on dotted line road or go to other dotted line road which doesn't seem to go near the river but neither does this one. Hesitate in crossroad. I mean in crossroad. Last minute decision. Stay on original dotted line road. No improvement. Need to get near I-something to find Holiday Inn Express. Damn GPS not helpful at all. Why can't they show the names of the roads like the old ones did? Note to self: see if Garmin still supporting old one. Actually see river for about one tenth of a mile. It is very nice and it looks like people have vacation places here. Veer back toward civilization, I think. Do a series of u-turns. Can't figure out where the fuck I am. Stop for gas at first one I see in 50 miles. Nice handsome black man strikes up old car conversation. He is my dream date. I am too tired to flirt. Dream Date tells me I should go down 66. I have just done that. Through Leavenworth. Then you saw the wooden bridges and Gizzard's or Buzzard's or something's something? Uh, no. Shit. Must have gotten off the dotted line about a mile too soon after all that driving. Too tired to care. Take left onto next divided road. Still not sure where the hell I am going. Pull over and check map. Look up availability of Holiday Inn Express in Evanssomething. Very bad reviews on tripadvisor. Wish had never looked at reviews but since last night's weird place thought I should. "Long time employee" says owner is so cheap they regularly put old towels back in the rooms. You know me and hygiene. Decide to go to Paduca where the Holiday Inn Express gets all four and five dots. It will be worth it. Disillusioned by HIE. Hit road and realize that Paduca is more than two hours away. Decide on the fly to go to Bowling Green even though it is not remotely in the direction I want to go but is going south. There is absolutely nothing on the Parkway (whatever that is) between here and Bowling Green. I do like the divided four lanes with pretty much no one on it as it is now dark and there aren't too many opposing headlights and I can see okay. Bad thing is that it is, oh, forty miles between exits and so no gas stations etc. so you really have to trust your car but Woody is doing great so far. Approach Bowling Green. Nothing. Next to Bowling Green. Nothing. Past Bowling Green. Nothing. I-whatever. Get on I-whatever going south which seems like the right way but somehow I remember from the map that it is not quite the right way. Now here's the kicker: you can go to Nashville or (really) Elizabethtown KY, the center of all gravitational pull. Choose Nashville. 38 miles. Nashville is in Tennessee. I want to be in Arkansas. Keep driving. No exits. Finally light in the distance. Holiday Inn Express! Cross fingers that it will be a good one. It is. Santosh Xavier is the manager. He will upgrade me to a suite because I am a Priority Club member. Thanks, but I want a regular room. Homier. Get great room. Praise Jesus. Santosh shakes my hand and says I can check out any time I want. Note to self: post on tripadvisor for first time. If Santosh is not the owner, he should be. But what's with the hispanic last name? The United Nations works fine for me if they are all like Santosh.