I am hunkered down for the second night at a Super 8 motel in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Cold weather camping in my van is absolutely in my skillset but I’m taking the easy way out this time. I still hate the idea of throwing way-too-much money at a second rate motel chain just to sleep warm and dry in one of their 3rd rate rooms. If the price seems too good to be true then think again; there is nothing all that good about it. Either the staff are under paid malcontents or nothing in the room works like it should. Room number 125 is on the first floor which is good and it is safe, warm and dry. There is only one working electrical outlet in the room but they did find an extension cord I can plug into the bathroom outlet. Part of my travel kit is a portable power station that can power my CPAP machine for three nights before need a recharge. Actually, I would have been just as well served by carrying it in from the van. The truth is that I love being out here on the road regardless of where I sleep. I sleep in a zero degree rated sleeping bag regardless. In this case it’s on top of the undisturbed covers of the bed and to that extent I am in my own little niche. But enough about second rate motels.
I spent the afternoon, evening and next morning in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Since the 1870’s he town’s mineral springs have attracted all kinds of travelers to the healing spring waters. Today it is an incredibly well preserved, charming tourist destination. Be advised, the town is carved into a mountain side and any place you want to check out is a challenging climb up a steep hill. Streets are narrow, no place to park except at meters or in small lots at $5 for 3 hours. Even at that I was taken aback with the crowded space and vertical challenge. The motel on Friday night was, where else, at the top of a steep hill. I want to come back in the summer and stay at one of the classic old hotels in the middle of town that have valet parking. All I need is a companion to be good company on an easy roadtrip.
Saturday afternoon it wasn’t too long a drive, winding along ridge-tops and twisty, curvy ups and downs. When things leveled out we were on the boundary with Fayetteville. The University of Arkansas is there. I have friends who sent their kids to U of A. The school has a good academic rating and affordable fees; and they don’t charge out of state fees.
My reason for overnighting here was to visit the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship here. The difference between a church and a fellowship is simply numbers and the ability to employ a full time minister. Still, this morning there must have been twenty members show up for the adult discussion group at 10:00 and sixty or more for the service. I was impressed with the group. University town, Unitarian church, I’m not surprised with the well read, highly educated nature of thee congregation.
Walking in the door a lady saw me standing in the lobby and challenged me: “You are a visitor?” She welcomed me and we sat together, she and her husband, a retired law professor at U of A. He was 89 and she must have been about the same. The church has a tradition for Thanksgiving Sunday; everyone brings bread and the room is set with tables rather than rows of chairs. Then toward the end they call attention to how important grain and bread in particular has been for the human experience. They placed sliced bread and rolls in baskets on the tables along with shot glasses and pitchers of cider. Then we took several pieces of bread, added a dash of cream cheese or jelly and took communion in the name of all humankind. We talked across the table, communed with bread and cider and it was way-cool.
They invited me to lunch with them at the Senior Center where they live and I took them up after all, it would have been rude to refuse under the circumstance and by then we had struck a common chord. Nancy and Mort had both been widowed, him twice and they had been together for nearly twenty years. Reflecting on the idea of getting out of town on the long holiday weekend, I should do this more often.
I’ll be back on the road tomorrow, up I-49. It’s about 3 hours and that’s perfect. I just discovered last week that my car radio is set up for Sirius radio. I didn’t pay for a subscription but it’s there and it works. I wouldn’t be surprised if a former owner is still getting billed for the service. So I can drive and listen to blues or classic rock or easy listening or Top 40 anytime, just about anywhere. For now anyway, life is pretty good.
I spent the afternoon, evening and next morning in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Since the 1870’s he town’s mineral springs have attracted all kinds of travelers to the healing spring waters. Today it is an incredibly well preserved, charming tourist destination. Be advised, the town is carved into a mountain side and any place you want to check out is a challenging climb up a steep hill. Streets are narrow, no place to park except at meters or in small lots at $5 for 3 hours. Even at that I was taken aback with the crowded space and vertical challenge. The motel on Friday night was, where else, at the top of a steep hill. I want to come back in the summer and stay at one of the classic old hotels in the middle of town that have valet parking. All I need is a companion to be good company on an easy roadtrip.
Saturday afternoon it wasn’t too long a drive, winding along ridge-tops and twisty, curvy ups and downs. When things leveled out we were on the boundary with Fayetteville. The University of Arkansas is there. I have friends who sent their kids to U of A. The school has a good academic rating and affordable fees; and they don’t charge out of state fees.
My reason for overnighting here was to visit the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship here. The difference between a church and a fellowship is simply numbers and the ability to employ a full time minister. Still, this morning there must have been twenty members show up for the adult discussion group at 10:00 and sixty or more for the service. I was impressed with the group. University town, Unitarian church, I’m not surprised with the well read, highly educated nature of thee congregation.
Walking in the door a lady saw me standing in the lobby and challenged me: “You are a visitor?” She welcomed me and we sat together, she and her husband, a retired law professor at U of A. He was 89 and she must have been about the same. The church has a tradition for Thanksgiving Sunday; everyone brings bread and the room is set with tables rather than rows of chairs. Then toward the end they call attention to how important grain and bread in particular has been for the human experience. They placed sliced bread and rolls in baskets on the tables along with shot glasses and pitchers of cider. Then we took several pieces of bread, added a dash of cream cheese or jelly and took communion in the name of all humankind. We talked across the table, communed with bread and cider and it was way-cool.
They invited me to lunch with them at the Senior Center where they live and I took them up after all, it would have been rude to refuse under the circumstance and by then we had struck a common chord. Nancy and Mort had both been widowed, him twice and they had been together for nearly twenty years. Reflecting on the idea of getting out of town on the long holiday weekend, I should do this more often.
I’ll be back on the road tomorrow, up I-49. It’s about 3 hours and that’s perfect. I just discovered last week that my car radio is set up for Sirius radio. I didn’t pay for a subscription but it’s there and it works. I wouldn’t be surprised if a former owner is still getting billed for the service. So I can drive and listen to blues or classic rock or easy listening or Top 40 anytime, just about anywhere. For now anyway, life is pretty good.
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