As long as I can remember, creeks have run through my life story, as surely as blood runs through the veins of my body. I was born just a few blocks from the banks of Crooked Creek, in Boone County, Arkansas. As a youngster, I remember my father taking my big sister and I fishing, tadpole chasing, and worm digging, at the creeks around Monarch and Lead Hill, Arkansas. Here is a photo of one of those fishing trips:
I grew up playing in Crooked Creek, which was just yards from my parents business, in Harrison, Arkansas. This Crooked Creek closeness turned to Crooked Creek curses, when the creek flooded on May 7, 1961, and destroyed my parent's business. Here is a photo of my parent's business which was located on Scenic Highway 7 South:
I went to a high school, located on the banks of Crooked Creek. While in college at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, I lived in an apartment complex called Skull Creek, because it was situated on the banks of Skull Creek. The first time my son and I ever floated in a metal canoe, it was on Crooked Creek, with my friend Brenda, and her daughter, Pauline. When I lived on Scenic Highway 7 North, our home was located on a hill above a creek that had constant water in it due to an all-weather spring, and the family had a little cabin on that creek. My son did this sketch of the cabin, to combine with the poem his grandfather wrote about his experience along the stream:
My son referenced his memories from his time at the cabin with his grandfather, in an essay he wrote, after he successfully climbed, and safely descended, the famous granite monolith in Yosemite, known as "El Cap":
The "Creek Expedition" story of my life continues, as I have lived the last several decades, on the banks of Pigeon Creek in north Arkansas. That came about because my boyfriend and I were hiking along Pigeon Creek, and came to a section he wanted to cross, but I was reluctant, because it meant I was going to get my feet wet. Being the muscular, strong martial arts expert that he was, he simply gathered me up in his arms, and carried me across the creek, like a groom carries his new bride across the thresh hold. It was then I told this fine man, (who was raised in New England and knew nothing of mountain folklore), that it was an old Ozark custom that if a guy carries a girl across a creek---like he just did---it meant they were engaged, and would be married. Turns out---that is exactly what happened! We got married just yards from that same spot along Pigeon Creek! Below is a photo of my beloved Pigeon Creek. Even though its appearance is similar to dozens of other creeks that go through these Ozark Mountains---to me, it will always have a special place in my heart!
Getting back to current day activities, and trying to tie in the previous comments with the next section, it is enough to say that since my son and I hiked many times down to the little "cabin on the creek" of his childhood, it seemed especially meaningful, when I had the opportunity to once again hike "Cabin Creek" with my son; but, this one was thousands of miles from where we hiked in his youth, when he lived in the Ozarks. Rather, this hike took place in northern California, and oh, what a glorious hike it was!!
I grew up playing in Crooked Creek, which was just yards from my parents business, in Harrison, Arkansas. This Crooked Creek closeness turned to Crooked Creek curses, when the creek flooded on May 7, 1961, and destroyed my parent's business. Here is a photo of my parent's business which was located on Scenic Highway 7 South:
I went to a high school, located on the banks of Crooked Creek. While in college at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, I lived in an apartment complex called Skull Creek, because it was situated on the banks of Skull Creek. The first time my son and I ever floated in a metal canoe, it was on Crooked Creek, with my friend Brenda, and her daughter, Pauline. When I lived on Scenic Highway 7 North, our home was located on a hill above a creek that had constant water in it due to an all-weather spring, and the family had a little cabin on that creek. My son did this sketch of the cabin, to combine with the poem his grandfather wrote about his experience along the stream:
The "Creek Expedition" story of my life continues, as I have lived the last several decades, on the banks of Pigeon Creek in north Arkansas. That came about because my boyfriend and I were hiking along Pigeon Creek, and came to a section he wanted to cross, but I was reluctant, because it meant I was going to get my feet wet. Being the muscular, strong martial arts expert that he was, he simply gathered me up in his arms, and carried me across the creek, like a groom carries his new bride across the thresh hold. It was then I told this fine man, (who was raised in New England and knew nothing of mountain folklore), that it was an old Ozark custom that if a guy carries a girl across a creek---like he just did---it meant they were engaged, and would be married. Turns out---that is exactly what happened! We got married just yards from that same spot along Pigeon Creek! Below is a photo of my beloved Pigeon Creek. Even though its appearance is similar to dozens of other creeks that go through these Ozark Mountains---to me, it will always have a special place in my heart!
I can think of no better blessing than to be able to be out hiking in God's Great Outdoors, with my son, so I am eternally grateful that he took me on this hike! It gave me "MILES OF SMILES"!!