Float, Sweat, Repeat: A Very Arkansas Weekend

 Chapter 37: Campsite Magic & Curry Without a Can Opener

We pulled into Denton’s Ferry RV Park just before sunset, and honestly, it felt like nature had staged the scene for us. Our campsite sat right on the White River, the sky was doing its watercolor thing, and when night fell, the Big Dipper popped up right behind the van like it had been photoshopped in. I kept checking to see if there was a “filter applied” button.


Friday itself was less glamorous. Nelson worked from the van, and I… attempted to enjoy the outdoors. Except it was 100 degrees. Not a cute “summer glow” 100, but a “don’t even bother walking outside” 100. So instead, I stayed inside, blogged, and argued with ChatGPT. At first it was making things up about my journal (so rude), but I admitted its chapter title ideas weren’t bad. Maybe it just needs to “get to know me better.”

My big plan for the day was to cook a proper red Thai curry, complete with bamboo shoots, baby corn, coconut milk, and even lychee — because if I can’t have Sydney duck curry, I can at least fake a close cousin. The plan derailed fast: no can opener. The bamboo shoots, baby corn, and coconut milk all sat in their metal prisons while I poured whole milk into the pot like a desperate contestant on Master Chef. Final dish? Looked authentic, tasted like curry’s underachieving cousin. At least the lychee was perfect.


We finally ventured outside around 8 p.m. when the heat simmered down. It was dark, but the river delivered a treat: we spotted either a beaver or an otter gliding along the water. Not sure which, but either way, adorable. Day saved.

Chapter 38: The Float That Made Us Paddle

Saturday was “float day” at the famous Buffalo National River. I had been picturing lazy drifting, drink in hand, maybe even napping on the water. But here’s the Arkansas definition of “float”: pick your vessel, grab your paddle, and prepare to actually work. Canoeing, kayaking, tubing — it’s all “floating.”

We’d originally signed up for a 10-mile trip, but the float company called and suggested we cut it to 6 because of the heat. At first, I thought it was a scam (“same price, shorter float? Hmm…”), but I’m glad we listened. Six miles was plenty.

We prepped like pros: pressed sandwiches, trail mix, lots of water — a lesson hard-learned after our foodless kayaking disaster in France. At Dillard’s Ferry (the take-out point), we left the van and piled onto a very retro school bus shuttle to Spring Creek to launch. The group vibe was lively — swimsuits, boom boxes, fishing rods, coolers — basically a floating block party.


Nelson and I picked our canoe and pushed off. The river was gorgeous: calm stretches, shallow spots, shady trees. Fish darted under the water, and at one point we spotted not one but two bald eagles overhead. Serious postcard moment. Nelson, ever the safety-first guy, wore his life vest even when the water was ankle-deep. I admired his commitment but… also laughed.


The best comic relief came from two bikini-clad girls in kayaks. Stylish, sure, but their paddling technique suggested zero kayaking experience. They waved us down to ask if we’d broken our oars since we were each using a single-blade canoe paddle. Nelson politely explained this is what a canoe paddle looks like. Their shocked faces were priceless.


After about three hours, we glided back to Dillard’s Ferry, sweaty, tired, but blissfully content. We spent the rest of the afternoon dozing under the shade, showering off river dust, and collapsing into a nap so good it should have been sponsored. Nelson, who never naps, declared it the best nap of his life.



Chapter 39: Ribbon Stakes & Chicken Lai Lai

By Sunday, the heat had worn us down. No stealth camping this week — just back to Blowing Springs and its sweet, sweet AC. But first, a little detour: Jurassic Lane, where the land for our future house has been staked out.

We arrived to find a field of weeds dotted with little wooden stakes wrapped in neon ribbons. It felt more like a scavenger hunt than a house preview. After wandering around confused, we finally found a stake labeled “Drive,” and with the help of the house plan, realized: driveway located! Visualization of the full house? Still impossible. But it was exciting nonetheless, like finding the first piece of a puzzle you haven’t opened yet.



We ended the weekend with Chicken Lai Lai for dinner, AC blasting in the van, and that blissful “river tired” feeling. Buffalo National River didn’t just give us bald eagles and a float that required actual effort — it gave us a weekend of magic, mishaps, and little victories tied up in neon ribbons.

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