Arkansas was not a place I had intended to visit, in fact it’s a place that I was uncertain exactly where it was located. Was it under Tennessee? Or to the left of Kentucky? Somewhere near Oklahoma, right? I guess that has more to due with my poor schooling in U.S. geography, than Arkansas being insignificant.
I arrived midday to an empty campground. Sweeettt! The office had no park ranger, just an automatic machine to pay for your spot…..hmmm….I looked at my wallet, back at the machine, then at the empty campground, and back to my wallet…. well…well…well…I spun on my heels, hopped in my van and went to pick out a spot. Number 16, the same site as in Tennessee. After unpacking and settling in, I thought better of trying to rip-off the National Park Service. Knowing my luck, I figured it would get back to me in some fashion. Karma loves to kick my ass. 
The weather was just right during the day, 66 degrees with clear skies, singing birds and fat squirrels. I was certain that my days and nights would be the most peaceful and comfortable yet. I spent my days hiking into town (there are trails that lead from the campground into town), going to the muesum, and talking to the old lady at Bubbalu’s (who not only can make a mean batch of fries, but also can line-dance to grandma got ran over by a reindeer while reading the local paper : The Sentinel-Record). She was amusing. I wanted to make a video of her, but I was too shy,so I took a foto of my fries instead.
The evening temperature dropped to 21 degrees after my first night. The nights, o’ the nights, they were cold as hell! And if that wasn’t bad enough, after a long day of hiking I came back to camp to find that my camping stove was broken. That means no warm meals,or hot tea, and the most important- no warm bottle to snuggle with at the night. I tried to fix it to no avail. Baby even gave it a shot.
I’m sure this was my punishment for even thinking about trying to thieve the park service out of camp fees.
The last morning I woke up to find my face cracked and bleeding from the elements, I was done trying to tuff’ it out. I slathered vaseline on my face, did some dishes (with ice cold water), and hit the road.
It was time to keep traveling south….here we come TEXAS!!
The Fordyce bathhouse- out of business in '62, made into a museum in '89
trip like i do... 
Stay out of the Ladies’ Cooling Room, Beth, and be warm… Is there anyone that might be able to repair your camping stove?
I have a suggestion for your time in Texas—AVOID IT!!
Kidding. Avoid Houston, anyway. It’s hot as hell and you can taste the air.
When we were there, we went on a trip and wound up driving to the “Museum of Texas” or some such thing. Turned out to be a vast museum honoring the REPUBLIC of Texas. I had known of those people who think Texas never was properly added to the U.S, but I had no idea they were so into it that they built a museum in a tiny ghost town and still elect their “president.” It’s interesting in a way.
And DO go to Austin. It’s awesome. I knew we had to go there when one of Trace’s relatives said, “Austin? You mean ‘liberal’ Texas?” when we told him we wanted to visit there.