Outside, outside

While the exterminator was trying to get rid of the gnome infestation and other mirages in my house, I thought I would get out of the house for a couple of days and go someplace cooler. Unfortunately, I must have made a wrong turn somewhere, because I ended up in Arkansas, which was not really much cooler than the furnace known as Oklahoma.

I headed to the Buffalo River. I've been pining for the Buffalo since February. I'm ready to spend two weeks with Rudy the Red-nosed kayak, getting to know every bend of the Buffalo.

Right now, that area is known as the Buffalo Boulder Field. There ain't no water. 

It's kind of like going to museums- you never visit the ones in your own hometown, you must drive far away for the museums to be interesting. So instead of treading the claybeds that pass for creeks and rivers in the Sooner state, I opted for the gravel pits in their most Natural state.

And yes, hot as it was, I camped. As one person said, when I admitted to being the lone ranger in the campground, "Are you freakin insane?!"

On the upside, the bathrooms were not crowded, the place was quiet and I got a lot of work done, and I didn't have to jockey for parking in the shade. On the downside, I took three sink baths between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. and didn't sleep a lot. I figured this way I would have a greater appreciation for air conditioning.

I walked, I photographed, I perspired, I contemplated, I immersed myself in what is the Buffalo in Summer.  And thought about air conditioning. And ice cream.