This year my mother rented a cabin in Lakeview, Arkansas on the southern shores of bull shoals lake in northern Arkansas for thanksgiving.. I had been to the Ozarks twice before in my life. Once when I was young on the way to St. Louis and a second time for a bachelor party for a close friend.
I don't remember much about the first trip, other than my mother coming to a screeching halt at the bottom of a very long hill when the road suddenly ended in front of us. Our '84 suburban went careening off of the road into some hillbilly's front yard, and I hit my head on the console between the two front seats.
The bachelor party was nothing more than a camping trip / reunion for six close friends, one of which was to be hitched the following weekend. All six of us were in some form or fashion climbers, and we all loved the outdoors. The best man who planned the trip had become aquatinted with the area on a week long rafting trip down the buffalo national river, and therefore had killer beta on where we should camp.
We met at the lost valley campground between Ponca and Boxley on highway 43. The Lost Valley is a quaint little campground at the trailhead of the lost creek trail, which leads to the lost grotto, the lost cave, and finally the lost boulder field. Upon our arrival at the campground we hiked down the trail and discovered all of the lost treasures nestled within the valley. We stopped periodically to torture some copperheads, climb on some choss piles, and swat away bothersome horse flies. Just before dark was when we found the lost boulder field, and we resolved to return in the morning with crashpads.
That evening we drove to the nearest wet county (four counties removed) to find a liquor store .. No easy task in the middle of the Ozarks I assure you. We had driven 200 miles to get the alcohol so we were adamant about not having to return at a later time for more. We left the liquor store with a large plastic bottle of gin, a bottle of whiskey, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of tequila, three twelve packs of beer, tonic water, soda, and some limes. For six people. Long story short, most of us spend the next morning puking and fighting off a nasty hangover, and we never went back to the lost boulder field.
My friend Frank Niles, who now teaches at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, decided to hook up with me at the lost valley campground the day after thanksgiving. His friend Chris also showed up and the weather held out for a killer day of secluded bouldering.
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