I headed north on hwy 49 towards Paragould. My plan then was to start heading west and as the Ozarks are west, “head west beemer biker dude” and see if I would end up in the mountains. It started getting hilly as I got closer to Paragould, but I think this is still part of Crowley’s Ridge. So when I got to Paragould, I took hwy 135 to 34 west, I was going to make my way towards a town called Delaplaine. I really had no idea where Delaplaine was, what it was like, if it was in the mountains, or in the middle of a rice field, just saw it on a map once and that it was west of Paragould. So unknown adventure got the better part of me and off I went in search of Delaplaine. Hwy 34 was actually a pretty nice road between Oak Grove Heights and a little one tractor settlement called Beach Grove. I found a few dirt roads / county roads breaking off the main road that had the appearance of holding some future interest. I took one of them that made its way into a wildlife management area. I winded through tress that were just starting to sprout their summer plumage, undulating slightly through the terrain with nothing so challenging that a car really could not drive on it, other than the fact that it was a bit muddy due to the rain the prior night. But it was fun, a couple of rough spots where I would have to stand on the pegs, but just what the doctor ordered, assuming the doctors prescription pad said BMW R1200GS on it. The road broke off in a couple of areas that looked a little more interesting, but quite a bit slushier due to the rain soaked ground, and I did not pursue them – at least not until I get some knobbies. At the end of the road was a public firing range. Something I did not expect. I guess that is one thing my state taxes are going towards. No place to fire a shotgun, or not that I saw anyway, but for a handgun or rifle, you don’t have to pay. At least not that I saw. I made my way back to the main road and found more twists and turns until I got to Beach Grove.
Then I was back in the delta. It was flat land rice fields all the way to Delaplaine and beyond. At Delaplaine, there was a T in the road, I really did not know which way to go, so I took hwy 90.
Flat and straight… Straight and flat….
Rice fields.
Through Walnut Ridge and Hoxie – a couple of junk yard towns, a couple of one grain tower towns, and one farm that had a whole bunch of nice new equipment along the way.
When I hit Walnut Ridge I was getting hungry, I started to look for a place to satisfy that grumbling in my belly, but it wasn’t until I found the Ole Hickory BBQ in Hoxie that my search ended. “You want slaw on that” the waitress asked as I ordered my barbeque beef sandwich. I asked for it on the side, along with some fries. I guess anyone who has been in this area knows that they put the cold slaw on the sandwich around here. I have not had my BBQ sandwich like that yet, but I did do my own make-shift “slaw-on-the-wich” sandwich as I was having my lunch this sunny Saturday afternoon. Not bad I have to tell you, I may not object the next time the waitress asks me if I want slaw on that. My first barbeque experience in Jonesboro was not really all that great – I’ll spare the name of the restaurant because I like some of their other food… but my subsequent BBQ experiences in the area have been pretty good, especially the dry rubbed ribs in Memphis, but that's another story. After making my exit from Ole Hickory, I decide to reference the GPS, enough flat-lander riding for me, I figured I had circumnavigated the Jonesboro Delta area now as Hoxie is only about 15 to 20 minutes or so northwest of Jonesboro on hwy 63. I just punched up “cities” on the GPS and saw Black Rock. I knew from my last trip that Black Rock was where the foot hills started and the roads started winding. I figured I would get to Black Rock and just start picking roads from there. So, I hit the road jack, and figured I come back for more flat later.
As I spun the wheels down the now familiar pavement towards Black Rock and beyond to Hardy things got better, Black Rock was just a quick ride from Hoxie and the tarmac started is satisfying distortion of twists and turns. There was a red Dodge Stealth in front of me and the driver was on the same page as I was in regards to making the most of the road. We would get stuck behind a truck or some slow poke out for a Sunday stroll on a Saturday afternoon and simultaneously take advantage of any passing opportunities as soon as they made themselves present. The Dodge was keeping about a 90MPH pace which was just fine with me, I stayed a few feet behind and really did not feel the need to pass, I enjoy going fast, but for the most part 80 to 90 is plenty to keep my need for speed satisfied – in most cases. Once we had a clear passing lane though, I did overtake the Stealth around a sweeping turn marked 50. 115 seemed like about the right speed to get the bike to really start to lean into the turns and accelerate out. It was a blast. I did not see too much of the Stealth driver after that, I’m not sure if he thought he was keeping up with me before and just gave up, or if I pissed him off, or if he just had enough. About 15 miles later, he turned off the road. I was actually having fun riding with him when I was behind him, guess I should have stayed there, oh well – everyone has their own idea of fun, and mine just happened to be 115 around that particular set of climbing turns.
Right before entering Hardy, there was a sign pointing right to Mammoth Springs. I knew that the sign meant to take 63 north, but there was a dirt road right there, so I took it thinking “hmm, maybe I can take all dirt roads to Mammoth” as I head down the road it stared winding along a river. I’m thinking to myself that this is starting to remind me of a mini Colorado, and I am loving it. After a few minutes of traveling down this road, I pulled up Mammoth Spring on the GPS and sure enough, it told me to keep going straight on the road I was on. The road was fun, again nothing too challenging, but something you could ride a good 25 –30 MPH on when piloting a big GS. Stand on the pegs a few times, slow down a bit on some of the tight turns, no water crossings but a few muddy spots from the rain. All the fun ended when the road completed itself into intersecting pavement at hwy 175. The GPS told me to go south on 175, so south on 175 it was. While a little disappointed that the dirt ended, it was treated to a bit of pavement that snaked it way through trees, mountains, and open meadows dotted livestock. It was a great little dual sport jaunt, I can only imagine how many more of these mini adventures await me on future explorations. And I am just now hitting the very eastern edge of the Ozarks! I keep thinking knobbies, but I really don’t want to miss out on some of the pavement these mountains have to offer either. My Anakees have always served me well, even through some really rough stuff in Colorado, and I have a brand new set in waiting – decisions, decisions.
After an exhilarating run down 175, I was eventually dumped back off on hwy 63, right in front of where I hit the dirt road. A big dual-sport circle and worth every single minute of the side track from the ride to Mammoth Springs. Back on the road, I took 63 North towards Mammoth Springs. I was pleasantly surprised again, as the road immediately winded its way through what looks like was where it had been cut through a canyon of sorts. Again reminding me of Colorado, or parts of Big Bend country. 63 North towards the Missouri boarder was even better than between Black Rock and Hardy. The distance between Hardy and Mammoth Springs is about 30 miles and the entire distance is picturesque and well worth it to anyone on two wheels.
Mammoth Springs is situated on the boarder of Arkansas and Missouri, I did not stay long, but there is a state park there and several campgrounds. The spring river runs through the area and I checked out one of the campgrounds along the river. I met one of the campers at the campground who had several interesting stories to share. I spent some time taking to Ralph and then started to make my way back home. The ride home was a retrace of the road there, but interesting none the less, it is amazing how different something looks when you go the opposite direction. At least until you get to the flat lands east of Black Rock. But by that time I had completely forgot about how bad I felt earlier that morning. Excedrin, Advil, Coffee, Breakfast, they all tried, but getting out and getting some air around me, getting some miles under my arse, and two wheels turning under my feet, ultimately that is what I needed to cure whatever it was that was ailing me this beautiful Saturday.
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