Tales From the MoJo Road –
By Glynn Wilson –

EUREKA SPRINGS, Ark. – Some writers claim to compose in their head while in the shower. That’s not my style.

I mostly like short showers anyway, on the road, unless I can find a bathtub somewhere.

Writing has long come easy to me.

Except in close, critical moments when we seem to be in the middle of another existential crisis. Then it becomes hard.

There was no real Eureka moment in Eureka Springs, no cry of joy or satisfaction when one finds or discovers something extra special. Although finding The Farm was close. It’s a place to camp for $15 a night with a shower house, not far from certain amenities one tends to look for when traveling and camping.

On Thursday, as I stepped out of the shower, once again finding myself in an uncertain place in the world and unable to complete a plan to move forward due to unstable political events, I met a violin player named Joe. He came to The Farm campground and concert venue nearly a month ago for Hillberry, the Harvest Moon Festival, and ended up staying for nearly a month.

If you are any kind of traveling troubadour, when you find an affordable place that feels comfortable you tend to try to stay for awhile. He was cleaning up and headed for a rehearsal with a bluegrass band over the state line in Missouri, then planning a trip to New Orleans.

“My old stomping grounds,” I said.

“It’s so hot there I vowed never to go back,” I told him.

But now I’m thinking it might not be so bad, since it never really gets cold in New Orleans. Once hurricane season is over, and the election is decided – provided we actually find out the results – I must find a place to go for winter.

When I breeched the subject of the impending election, Joe gave a typical uncommitted response.

“They all suck,” he said of politicians.

“Way out here in the Ozark mountains of Arkansas, I don’t think it really matters much who the president of the United States is,” he said.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “But I can’t help thinking this one is different. Trump really could become a dictator and screw up this whole experiment in democracy.”

We let it drop after that, as we both shaved, dressed and got ready to depart.

I also drove north toward Missouri, and ran into the state line sign sooner than I expected on Highway 187. It was just a short drive to Cassville, where I was told there was a legal Cannabis dispensary, and tobacco shops where you can save money from the higher prices in Arkansas. Both turned out to be true. So I’m thinking this might not be a bad place to spend some time on the way out West.

For some reason, Siri guided me in a circle, taking me to Cassville on a flat, valley track through farm country, then back to Eureka Springs through the mountains by the Roaring River State Park and through Eagle Rock (see map above). I would have stopped to take some pictures, but the Autumn color was mostly dried up and brown due to the drought. It was the same in West Virginia on the way here.

Global warming, right in front you as you drive through the hills and valleys. Believe it? Or not?

So instead I took the advice of a colleague and checked out the 67-foot high statue of Jesus in a park called Passion Play.

What could be the largest statue of Jesus in the country, maybe the world, standing 67-feet tall, resides in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, in a park called Passion Play: Glynn Wilson

Then it was time for lunch, so I found barbecue at a place called Sauced Barbecue and Brews. The pork sandwich with French fries and baked beans was not bad, along with the Philosopher King IPA. The parking lot of the Gravel Bar at Wanderoo Lodge was packed, however, and it was coming up on sunset, so I skipped checking out the blues band on the deck and got set back up to camp for one more night.

The maiden voyage of the star ship Gwyneth, I mean the Ford media camper van, revealed several things. The Ford is much easier and more fun to drive than the Dodge Roadtrek we ditched in Milton, West Virginia, and no doubt gets better gas mileage. Even though it was 25 years old, we only paid $10,500 for it and it lasted 10 years. That’s a hell of a long run no matter how you look at it. It had nearly 209,000 miles on it when it died.

Traveling and camping in the Ford will be easy enough, with the twin captains bed in the back and a desk for writing. We even managed to get most of the stuff out of the Dodge and stored in the Ford.

But it will not be so easy to get by living in it for months at a time, as we did in federal campgrounds in the Dodge. There’s no kitchen, no sink, no microwave, no flush toilet or 40 gallon water tank. No broadcast TV either. We left that behind in West Virginia, knowing it will be useless in the West, too far from major metro areas to pick up enough channels to make it a tool worth having.

As promised, I am going to eventually get around to visiting that state park here where they are still finding diamonds, but I already found one diamond. The Ford van is now legally registered in The Natural State, and they put a diamond on the state car tags.

We need to do a little more work on the power cord situation and the desk, and fine tune the storage system and add some curtains. We’re going to add a solar power station and a camp toilet to make boondocking for free on federal land in the West more possible. It will work, but we’re still going to be looking for places to stay inside with friends wherever possible for the foreseeable future. We have that in Trumann, Arkansas for now.

We are hunkered down here to see what happens in the election, as we hunkered down in Marion, North Carolina that first summer of Covid and in Knoxville, Tennessee that first winter of Covid, waiting for President Joe Biden to be sworn in and on vaccines to be developed and arrive on the scene.

In an uncertain world, you hunker down and wait to see what’s going to happen. God help us all.

What could be the largest statue of Jesus in the country, maybe the world, st anding 67-feet tall, resides in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, in a park called Passion Play: Glynn Wilson

Related: Ode to Mark Twain: The 21st Century Feels Like A Stranger to Me

___
If you support truth in reporting with no paywall, and fearless writing with no popup ads or sponsored content, consider making a contribution today with GoFundMe or Patreon or PayPal.