Picking up where I left off last week, Linda and I finished our hike at Lost Valley Recreation Area. We then drove up to Jasper where we were hoping to beat the church crowd for lunch. Although Jasper has only 466 inhabitants, it has several places to eat. I was secretly hoping to dine at the Ozark Cafe. The Ozark Cafe is a local legend that has been in operation for more than 100 years. We have eaten there a couple of times and love the food as well as the atmosphere. It seems to be a favorite with both locals and tourists. As we cruised past the cafe, it was evident that it was very busy. There were no parking places nearby, so I continued down the street to a small parking lot directly across from the Blue Mountain Cafe and Bakery. We were planning to walk back to the Ozark Cafe but decided to try something new.
Entering the Blue Mountain Cafe, it was clear to me that it had every bit as much character as its more famous cousin down the street. The place was crowded, but we found a small table in the back not far from the kitchen. The walls were full of items for sale, including caps, T-shirts, hoodies, pictures and calendars. There was a large case with baked goods on display, all of which looked really good to eat. There was a pecan pie bar that looked particularly good to me. I made a mental note to save some room for a bar with some vanilla ice cream.
The waitress was busy but friendly. She bustled up to take our drink orders. She said her name was Rebecca. Then she did something I literally hate. She called me "Honey." I hate it when women I don't know call me "Honey" or "Hon." I know they don't mean any harm by it, but it irritates the heck out of me. I don't know why. Linda herself has the habit of calling people "darling." I wish she didn't, but a guy can only do so much to influence his wife. After that, things can get a little dicey. So I have learned to let her do her thing. And, contrary to how I might feel, I never react negatively when someone calls me "Honey." I just grin and bear it. But the tip, now who's to say what effect this sort of thing has on the tip? I myself hesitate to say.
I decided to order a hamburger so I could compare it to the exceptional burger served up by the competition down at the Ozark Cafe. I can't remember what Linda ordered, but I think it was some kind of a wrap. But then, whenever I am writing about a meal we have eaten somewhere and I can't remember what Linda ordered, I always say she ordered some kind of a wrap.
Back to the burger. I have to say, sorry, Blue Mountain, but the Ozark Cafe has you beat hands down when it comes to hamburgers. My hamburger was OK, but the Ozark Cafe does hamburgers proud. There was one redeeming thing about our meal at the Blue Mountain Cafe and that was dessert. Linda and I shared a piece of pecan pie bar a la mode, and I have to say the bar was scrumptious! Pretty soon Rebecca brought the ticket which came to around $20 plus a tip. But I have already mentioned the tip, haven't I, Hon? So I'll let you guess what the total came to.
After lunch, Linda wanted to see the Grand Canyon of Arkansas, so we headed south in the direction of the town of Ozark. A few miles out of Jasper is a large canyon which stretches out for miles, so the views are awesome. The highway runs along the rim of the canyon so you can see out to your left for a good ways.
We were headed south on Highway 23, but we were looking to take the Highway 16 west turnoff so we could drive back up toward Fayetteville. This area of Arkansas is really pretty and highly recommended to anyone looking to take a scenic drive.
On our way back on Highway 16, we saw a sign that said, "Kings River Waterfall." This was more than I could resist, so I turned right onto a gravel road and headed somewhat north into we knew not what. The road was freshly graded with lots of loose rocks, so I took my time. I was afraid of getting a flat tire out in the middle of nowhere. And, as so often happens, there was no cell service. I have noticed that there rarely is when you're worried about getting a flat. Maybe there is some kind of law which applies to this sort of thing. I couldn't say for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was. Might this law even have a name? Maybe it could be called "The Law of Loose Gravel and No Cell Service Back in the Middle of Nowhere?" Makes sense to me.
The farther we drove, the narrower the road became until, finally, I thought it was going to peter out altogether, but it continued twisting here and turning there and so did we. Finally, finally, we came down a long hill to a fork in the road. A sharp turn to our left brought us to a small bridge which, unknown to us at the time, spans the Kings River. And, at this particular place, the river runs underground when it is dry, which it was the day we were there. Farther south the smallmouth bass fishing is great and nationally known, but here there are no bass and no fishing and there are not likely to be any soon.
Just past the bridge, we came upon a sign that indicated we were now at the point where we would have to leave our vehicle in order to hike into where the falls could be seen up close. Fortunately, or whatever, the sign doesn't tell you how far it is to the falls so naive hikers (Linda and me), embark on the journey with the hope of seeing the falls within a few minutes. Sad to say, it is a little longer than a few minutes to the falls, but not too much longer, so I do recommend you go. But I would also recommend you go after a rain so you can see some water at the falls.
We did find an absolutely beautiful pool and small waterfall emptying into it, but the daylight was beginning to fail so we did not linger. By the time Linda and I got back to the truck, I had over 12,000 steps for the day. And my feet were tired. We both resolved that the next time we leave the house for breakfast at Miss Mary's we need to have our best walking shoes on. Other than that, we have no regrets.
Sam Byrnes is a Gentry-area resident and weekly contributor to the Eagle Observer. He may be contacted by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 12/13/2017