The night before the start of our camping trip, my brother-in-law called to say there were 12 inches of snow at the park, and it was still snowing. He wondered if we might want to delay a day. Not a chance. I called Nate to update him, and he agreed. We were going for it.
We headed west after breakfast. It was a delightful, sunny day, and we were in high spirits. There wasn’t a hint of snow until we reached Fort Smith and headed north. As we drove through the Boston Mountains it began to look like winter. It certainly didn’t look like late March in Arkansas.
Before long, there were drifts along the highway and cars in ditches. But the road was clear and we continued on. If you like tunnels (and who doesn’t?) and mountain scenery, check out this video I took through the windshield on I-540 just south of Devil’s Den.
We saw some three-foot drifts as we drove the side roads into the park, but the pavement was bare. We arrived at our campsite to find Nate and Karen waiting. They’d been there for three minutes. How’s that for timing? The place was a mess.
The snow was melting quickly, and the ground that wasn’t covered was two-inches deep in flowing water. Some of the campsites were lakes. Ours were on higher ground and in pretty good shape, considering. We swept off our tent patches and relaxed at a picnic table where we played a rousing game of Spoons while waiting for Tim and his family.
It really was warm. We were in our shirt-sleeves for much of the afternoon. By the time we set up just before supper, the snow was gone from anywhere exposed to the sun.