Something has changed.
Not Cora.
Well, actually, quite a lot has changed with Cora lately, but that is another story.
Something has changed in me.
When I started Springer’s Journey, I had this romantic idea of traveling around the country. I would camp here, move there, see something interesting, pack everything up and move again.
And I have learned something.
That is exhausting.
So I have decided to try something different.
An easier, softer way.
I don’t have to get anywhere quickly.
I don’t have to drive hundreds of miles because some imaginary travel schedule says it is time to move.
I can stay awhile.
I can look at my atlas and ask a completely different question:
What’s interesting nearby?
And apparently, the answer in Arkansas is:
Quite a lot.
It started, as many of my adventures do, with me almost buying something.
I was looking at a Jackery portable power station for $259.
I am planning to try some primitive camping—boondocking, dispersed camping, whatever we decide to call it—and I thought I needed electricity.
Why?
Well…
I needed to inflate my air mattress.
This is where Professor Headquarters asked an annoyingly useful question:
What does the air mattress pump actually require?
ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!
One question led to another.
And I discovered something I didn’t even know existed.
There are air mattresses with little battery-operated or rechargeable pumps.
No electrical hookup.
No giant power station.
No extension cord running through the Arkansas wilderness so I can blow up my bed.
I found a Coleman camping mattress for about $36. It is puncture-resistant and comes with a little battery-operated pump.
I put it in my Amazon cart.
And then I clicked Save for Later.
I’m learning.
The Jackery remains unemployed.
Then we started looking for places to camp.
I want to save money. Some of the places I’ve been staying are expensive, and if I’m going to travel slowly, campground fees can eat a very large hole in my budget.
But there is an important distinction here.
I want inexpensive camping.
I do not want isolation.
I have absolutely no desire to drive Cora miles down some deserted Forest Service road simply because there is a free patch of dirt at the end of it.
At my age?
Nope.
If that’s the alternative, I’ll sleep in a Cracker Barrel parking lot.
We found primitive camping around beautiful Lake Ouachita—some of it free—and that immediately went into the journal for later.
Then I found Lake Sylvia Recreation Area.
Thirty-eight miles or so from Little Rock.
A lake.
Trees.
Tent camping.
Other people around.
And primitive campsites for $16 a night.
Now you’re talking.
I pulled up the campground map.
Professor Headquarters and the Crew examined the sites.
Ferrari studied the perimeter.
Morris wanted to know where the lake was.
Mayday Murphy probably identified seventeen evacuation routes.
And we chose:
SITE 17.
I paid the deposit.
Six nights.
September 1 through September 7.
WE’RE GOING CAMPING.
ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!
There will be no electricity at our site.
That’s okay.
I already have two battery packs for my phone.
My little lanterns use AA batteries.
We’ll bring our own water.
My vegetarian diet makes food storage a little easier because I don’t need to keep meat cold. We’re going to start experimenting with tasty shelf-stable meals that don’t require much—or perhaps any—ice.
And I have a Planet Fitness membership.
You know what Planet Fitness has?
SHOWERS.
This whole experiment keeps getting cheaper.
I like it.
There is one rule I have made, though.
At every campground, before anything else, we find out where to go during a tornado warning.
I have been caught in a tornado before.
I know what panic feels like when you don’t know what to do.
I don’t want to do that again.
So we will find the shelter in daylight.
We will know how to get there.
Then, if severe weather comes, frightened Lorrie doesn’t have to solve the problem.
Calm Lorrie already did.
Then my friend Miranda contacted me.
She’s happily camping in Flagstaff, Arizona, and casually mentioned that in Arkansas…
you can dig for diamonds.
Excuse me?
Actual diamonds?
Apparently so.
Crater of Diamonds State Park is now officially on the Springer’s Journey list.
There are also amethyst, quartz, jasper, calcite and other minerals to find.
I would be perfectly thrilled to find a little piece of amethyst.
But can you imagine if I actually found a diamond?
Professor Headquarters would attempt to maintain scientific order.
I would be yelling:
ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!
Ferrari would secure the perimeter.
Morris would ask if he should wash it.
And Mayday Murphy—a Steller’s Jay, I might remind you—would suddenly develop an intense professional interest in shiny objects.
We will be checking her pockets before leaving.
But the biggest development wasn’t the camping.
Or the mattress.
Or Lake Sylvia.
Or even the possibility of finding a diamond.
We have a new Crew member.
One of Juniper’s kittens.
She is still with her momma right now and will stay there until after she is spayed.
She’ll be about three months old when we leave for Lake Sylvia.
Michelle is providing a harness, leash and soft-sided carrier.
And she has three tiny black dots on the end of her nose.
Three.
Tiny.
Dots.
🥹
She doesn’t have a name yet.
Naming her will require unanimous approval of the Crew.
That should go smoothly.
Ferrari believes names should convey strength.
Morris will undoubtedly suggest something aquatic.
Mayday has probably already prepared a three-ring binder.
Professor Headquarters insists that we wait and learn her personality first.
I agree.
For now, she’s simply the New Recruit.
I brought her into my tent today to begin introducing her to it.
Complete failure.
She wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
In her defense, it was over 100 degrees outside and the tent was hot.
So Professor Headquarters corrected my scientific interpretation.
It wasn’t a failed experiment.
The kitten gave me data.
Tent too hot.
Fair enough, New Recruit.
We’ll try again when it’s cooler.
And that’s when I realized something.
Months ago, I wasn’t ready for a companion.
I knew that.
So I carried Maya, my little plant, around with me as a sort of practice traveling companion.
Could I keep track of another living thing?
Could I build routines?
Could I make room?
And somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I did.
But I don’t think I became ready for this kitten because I learned how to travel harder.
I became ready because I finally gave myself permission to travel softer.
Shorter drives.
Longer stays.
Less rushing.
Less spending.
More investigating.
More sitting under trees.
More watching birds.
More asking:
Do I like it here?
And if the answer is yes?
Stay awhile.
There is no prize for getting somewhere first.
The diamonds have been sitting in Arkansas for millions of years.
I’m pretty sure they’ll wait for us.
So will Hot Springs.
So will Lake Ouachita.
We’ll get there when we get there.
For now, we have a reservation.
Campsite 17.
Cora has a new alternator and will get a nice short trip to test it.
Morris has a lake to explore.
Ferrari has a perimeter to patrol.
Mayday has supplies nobody asked for but someone will inevitably need.
Professor Headquarters has questions.
And soon, somewhere beside me, there will be four tiny paws and a nose with three little black dots.
We’re starting again.
Not from where we left off.
From scratch.
Slowly.
An easier, softer way.
And you know what?
I think this is going to be interesting. 😉
Polished with help from ChatGPT, who understands Mayday Murphy far better than any reasonable being should.
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