The Talimena
Scenic Drive runs between Talihina, Oklahoma and Mena, Arkansas. The name
is, obviously, an elision of the two names – not unusual in these parts, to
wit, Texarkana, a city straddling Texas and Arkansas, or Lake Texoma on the Red
River, shared by Texas and Oklahoma. We decided to drive up to Little Rock, the
capital of Arkansas on Friday evening, spend Saturday in Little Rock, and then
drive back to Dallas via the scenic route.
It’s cold for this time of year – hovering around the
freezing mark first thing in the morning, and when the sun goes down, and we
weren’t, sartorially speaking, particularly well prepared. So when we arrived
at the hotel on Friday evening, we decided to eat in the hotel. My experience
has been that eating in hotels is almost always a bad idea – this one wasn’t
too bad, even though they told me that ribs were off the menu when I tried to
order.
Arkansas is one of the nation’s poorest states, and the
capital reflects that. Downtown, the River Market District was quite
disappointing, even though we knew that the “season” has been over for a few
weeks. The Clinton Presidential
Library, however, was a delightful surprise, especially since they’re in
the middle of an “Art of the
Chopper” exhibit. The restaurant served an excellent lunch, and the
library, despite looking like a double-wide trailer on stilts, has a very
comprehensive history of “the Clinton years”. Try as I might, I could find no mention
of Ms Lewinsky, other than an oblique reference regretting the events that led
up to his attempted impeachment. Not surprising, I suppose.
I’m not a biker, but even I could appreciate the bikes,
designed and ridden by all the great names of Harley-Davidson-dom. Particularly
poignant was a picture of Indian
Larry, standing on the saddle of his moving motorcycle (which is,
ironically, how he died) alongside one of his bikes.
On
Saturday evening, we went to Murry’s
Dinner Playhouse, to see a performance of “There Goes the Bride”. Not great
literature by any standard, but very reminiscent of the old Brian Rix farces at
the Whitehall Theatre, and an ideal accompaniment for a buffet-style dinner and
a couple of glasses of wine.
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| Food for the winter |
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| Val talking to Jay Jones |
On
Sunday, we set off reasonably early on the “scenic route” to Dallas. We stopped
on the way at a gas-station cum diner for coffee. I don’t think they get too
many visitors from the outside world, because an old lady got up from her table
to speak to Val, because she’d “lived here all her life, and just wanted to say
hello”. We also stopped in Mount Ida, for two reasons. One was because we were
about to cross the Oauchita mountains, and had no idea how to pronounce it
(“Washiter”); the other was because we’d seen so many “crystal and rock” shops
that we were curious. We chatted for a while to Jay Jones, from whom we learned
that there are numerous open pit crystal mines around Lake Ouachita. We bought
a chunk of crystal from his shop, a book written by his father, and I
photographed a couple of his buddies butchering a deer – I should say that,
although I don’t at all appreciate hunting for sport, I have no problem with
hunting for food. They’re allowed, by law, to take 3 deer per year, and that’s
enough to provide meat for the family. In the picture, they have just removed
the tenderloins.
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| "Vista Point" |
The
Scenic Drive is spectacular. I can’t begin to tell you how spectacular the
views are. No – I really mean that. I can’t begin to tell you because the
visibility was down to about 100 yards, and, despite the numerous “vista
points”, we could hardly see the trees in front of us. But I’m assured that the
scenery is wonderful, and I have no reason to doubt it.
From Talihina, we headed south through the Choctaw nation in
Oklahoma, down Route 75, past the gambling casinos on the reservation that are
the result of legislation that was inadequately thought through by Congress
(much to the delight of the native population – and more power to them!). The
increased traffic on the highway signaled the proximity of Dallas – and our return
to the hustle and bustle of the Metroplex.
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| The Choctaw Nation |
I never cease to be surprised by the poverty I see in rural
America – Arkansas and Vermont are peculiarly similar in that respect, despite
apparently being at opposite ends of the geographic, cultural and climatic
spectrum. I also never cease to be amazed by the friendliness of the people.
