I know, the name of this blog is Go Go Taco Negro, but not every adventure utilizes our fabulous Tacoma. Since arriving in Bentonville in August of 2020, Michael and I have been wanting to get out and do some backpacking. This area is kinda famous for it’s “mountains.”
Look, as someone who lived in Colorado for 20 years, I do feel the need to put the word in quotations. There are actually several mountain ranges in Arkansas: the Ozarks, the Bostons, and the Ouachitas. They are all much older than the Rockies of Colorado, so they are more worn down and not as dramatic, especially in terms of elevation change. Yes, I’m getting on my high horse here. Don’t worry, I’ll get my comeuppance about that in a bit.
I had time off from work, right after Christmas, to make this trip. But it was touch and go up until about three days before we actually left. The reason? Weather. See, we were all in if the temperatures would hold at moderate and there would be no rain. And the forecast kept changing.
Our plan was to hike Section 6 of the Ozark Highlands Trail. The OHT is a total of 270 miles long at this point, with another 50 miles waiting to be built (it will someday connect with the Ozark Trail in Tecumseh, Missouri). I’m not much of a long-distance backpacker so before December I’d never heard of the OHT, but it’s actually one of the premier long-distance hiking trails in the country. Our friend Steve (who shuttled us to this trailhead) has hiked a lot of the OHT and said that Section 6 was the most scenic.
In the end we left the day after Christmas and drove down to Haw Creek Falls Recreation Area to meet up with some friends. After parking Taco Negro we loaded up into our friend Steve’s Tacoma, and he shuttled us out to the Fairview campground and trailhead.
That day, we were on the trail at about 1pm. From where I took this picture it was 20 miles back to Taco Negro. We had a weather window of about 3 days to make that happen.
Fairview is a high point on the trail at 2,170 feet, so the first two miles of the entire trip were downhill. Not a mellow downhill, either. For that first hour I was reminded of a data study a massage therapist friend of mine once told me about, where the researcher gathered up a handful of hard-core marathoners and asked them to run on a treadmill for 20 minutes. The marathoners scoffed but agreed, joking about what a walk in the park this would be.
What the researcher did not tell them was that they’d be running those 20 minutes on a 6% decline. She was researching DOMS – Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. Two days after the test, those marathoners were so sore they could barely walk.
By now, multiple studies have shown one of the causes of DOMS is the high force eccentric contractions we experience when running downhill: Our leg muscles lengthen under high load or impact, while trying to contract or shorten at the same time. [Source: Ultrarunning.com]
So… I was a little worried about the downhill on the first day. But Michael and I are both reasonably fit people. We trail run, mountain bike, and lift heavy. I didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park, exactly, but I was also not expecting to be laid low either.
The trail was gorgeous. I’m still surprised at how green Arkansas is, even in winter.
This would have been a great spot to wait out inclement weather, or stop for a snack. Of course, we’d only been on the trail for an hour at this point and were still headed downhill, so we stopped long enough for Michael to consult the map and for me to take a picture or two.
The OHT is marked with white blazes on the trees and mile markers:
These were (probably) every mile – I know I didn’t see every mile marker, but a lot of the time I was watching my feet instead of the trees. The leaf litter was pretty deep and it would have been way too easy to twist an ankle.
We arrived at our first campsite about 4 1/2 miles in and decided to call it for the day. One of the nice things about the OHT is that all the campsites are right next to water, and while it was a little chilly there, we had a ready source of water to filter. Michael set up the tent while I gathered firewood and we had ourselves a nice bonfire and dinner. I marveled at the bonfire, honestly. In Colorado, fires are sometimes banned, and even when they’re not, firewood can be scarce at a well-used campsite. And fires are almost always banned in California.
But this is Arkansas. And it’s the middle of winter here. No worries!
The next morning I was first up, and it was cold. I had a hard time getting the stove to work since I couldn’t feel my fingers, but that borrowed JetBoil made coffee in record time. A hot breakfast made me feel even better and I was warm and happy as we set out for the day.
Remember those snarky comments I made earlier about the “mountains” of Arkansas? Well, here’s where that bites me in the ass. Because once the trail left that campsite and crossed the creek, the trail climbed up to a ridgeline … and then descended down to another water crossing … and then climbed back up to the ridgeline again. This pattern repeated itself until we finished the trip.
And those elevation changes destroyed my legs.
I felt it the most in my calves, which got stiffer each morning, but really, by the time we finished section 6 my legs just hurt.
For this trip I carried my camera in a harness from Cotton Carrier, something I picked up after Michael and I hiked Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park in 2019. During that hike we saw a woman wearing one; it’s a hands-free carrying system that doesn’t require a strap across my neck. I finally picked one up last year. (They’re kinda pricey and I’m cheap.) Short review: It’s a bit of a PITA to get into, but incredibly comfortable – I forgot I had it on most of the time. I recommend it!
From this photo, it might look like the trail was a bit hard to see. You’re not wrong. Many times this was actually the case – Michael had a tendency to walk in the lead and so I just followed, but he told me he had to pay attention and keep an eye out for the white “blazes” or marks on the trees so that we wouldn’t get lost. Bailey happily let his inner Border Collie shine as he spent each day running back and forth between us. I think for future trips I might get him a pack of his own.
Michael got a few pictures of me, too. His phone did not require a carrying harness or anything, BTW.
At yet another water crossing, I had to head upstream a bit before I could find a suitable spot. (Michael’s boots are waterproof and high enough that he just waded across.) By the time I caught up with him he was enjoying a nice coffee break.
And not too far from that water crossing we came across the rock wall that our friend Steve had told us about. Basically he called it “quite the wall waaaay out in nowhere.” He joked it was a “generational wall” probably built by homesteaders.
Go out there and work on that wall, son. I worked on that wall. My daddy worked on that wall, and so did his daddy. Get out there and work on that wall.”
-Steve
Near the end of our day we came to a campsite right next to a water crossing. Hurricane Creek is a *big* water crossing that we knew was coming, but still. One look told me this was not going to be fun.
I had the brilliant idea to cross the creek and make a campsite on the other side. Surely there was one? It was late afternoon and still fairly warm (temps in the 50’s). Otherwise, if we camped at the existing campsite, we’d have to make that crossing the next morning. In the cold.
Michael was down so we rolled up our pants and switched to sandals.
At the deepest, that water was knee deep on me. And it was so cold. It was awful. I wanted to cry. But when you’re in the middle of a creek crossing, you don’t cry. Well, I mean – I guess you could, but the answer here is that you keep going. Once across we dropped our packs and started scouting, trying to warm up our feet. After twenty minutes the awful truth could no longer be avoided: there was no suitable campsite on this side. “We have to go back,” Michael said.
I didn’t think it was possible but that water was even colder the second time.
Luckily that established campsite was amazing. A huge fire ring (which we used, building a mighty bonfire), stones for sitting on (which we did not use, as we had nice chairs), and a big flat spot for the tent.
As the evening wore on I gathered even more firewood, but didn’t add it to the fire. I even gathered up leaves and put them into leftover plastic bags to keep them dry. Sound crazy? Pffft. I had a plan.
I wanted a breakfast fire.
Something else that would be verboten in Colorado: not putting your fire out completely before bed. If we even had a campfire there, we’d pour water on it at the end of the night. I’m pretty sure doing that would get you shot here. At the end of our second night we made sure the fire was burning low and just left it, snuggling into our down sleeping bags in the tent.
The next morning I woke to frost on everything; Bailey’s water bowl had a skim of ice on top. I took a trowel and dug into the fire pit. Embers immediately flared up and I added my dry leaves (see? a method to my madness) and kindling. I had a nice fire going in less than five minutes.
We waited to cross Hurricane Creek for as long as possible. We had five miles to make that day but I really wanted to make that crossing in the sunshine. Psychological? Probably. But it helped, because even though it was sunny the air temperature was probably in the 30s. And let me tell you: it was miserable.
Luckily for us the trail climbed immediately after crossing Hurricane Creek so our feet warmed up quickly. Our last day on the OHT was pleasant and warm but I still can’t remember the last time I was so happy to see Taco Negro.
What a great trip! I think we’ve got more backpacking in our future.
