The Hollis Country Store, since 1930.

Alongside Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven, in one of the more remote sections of the Ouachita Mountains, sits a classic community store made of local stone. At first glance, one might think the place is old and lost to time. But no, the Hollis Country Store is still in business.

The original building was constructed not long after Arkansas renumbered its state highways to comply with the then-new Federal Highway Administration back in 1926. The store was opened to serve the resident of Hollis, a mountain community named after Hollis Britt Aikens, a Union soldier who served in the Civil War. A year after it first started serving residents, construction began on the structure we see today - a sturdy and everlasting single story structure created from layers of mismatched rocks and mortar with an overhang porch. It was built by Mike Gross and William "Bill" Furr. Gross, a country doctor, operated the store and the local post office, which was south of the grocery. Electricity came from a Delco generator housed in a shed behind the building.

The store was sold to Dennis and Lillie Crain in 1940. They lived in the back of the building and their children grew up there. Their daughter Gulelma and her husband Loyd Hawks took over in the 1950s, and the store was expanded with frame additions.

When Dennis Crain died in 1980, Lillie Crain sold the store to their son Harold and his wife Louise. In 1989, they sold it to Loyd and Gulelma Hawk's son Berl and his wife, Connie. Berl died in 1999, but Connie still runs the store to this day.

The site is up for historic preservation. You can read more about its history here.
***

On our trip up Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven during Spring Break, Hunter and I spotted the store and looped back to check it out. There's really not a whole lot between Jessieville and Ola on this stretch of highway, just a series of Ouachita Forest trails and picnic areas and a whole lot of gorgeous views.

The first thing I noticed when we got out was that there was a truck out front... and a gentleman operating the late-1960s era gas pump. I haven't seen one of these in operation in years.

Hunter wanted a snack, and I was willing to oblige her, so I opened the old screen door and we went in. Before us were three well-laid-out aisles stocked with almost anything you might need, from soup to laundry

detergent. A counter sat to the left, and a small kitchen stood to the back right.

Hunter immediately gravitated towards the chips stand, and she perused the selection while I looked around. I haven't seen a store like this in ages, but recall many set up like this when I was a kid. There was everything available, including fishing equipment and bait, motor oil and baking supplies.

What really caught my attention was an ancient cooler alongside the north wall. This ancient double-sided cooler was marked Top Mark Refrigerator Company of Blytheville, and it had shelves in it for storing meats and cheeses. It's still being used for this purpose. It was packed with Petit Jean Meats bologna, peppered loaf and ham along with red wax cheese and some lettuce and tomatoes, jars of pickles and mayonnaise and tubs of mustard and butter. There were also individual packages of cheese and bottles of chocolate milk for sale.

Hunter chose a bag of Cheetoes puffs and I paid at the register, and we were back out the door. I made a note to add it to my travels, and caught Hunter at the old fashioned pay phone out front before we left.

Our stop was quick, but we'll be coming back to learn more. One thing I have learned since is that the place is up for sale, along with the three bedroom, two bath house out back. There's no cell phone signal, as far as I could figure, and it's a good stretch to anything close, but it's a lovely oasis, a throwback and a historical landmark, and I would suspect with all those folks who use Highway Seven to get from Russellville to Hot Springs that business is good. Here's a link to the listing, if you are interested.

And if you want to keep up with the Hollis Country Store, check out this page on Facebook.

Lakeshore Treehouse Resort - A Lofty Haven at the End of Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven.

Arkansas’s longest state highway winds from south of El Dorado all the way up to Diamond City. There, right at the end of the highway, you’ll find three treehouses you can stay in. Let's check out the Lakeshore Treehouse Resort.

A Spring Break on Arkansas Highway Seven.

Over the course of Spring Break 2015, my daughter Hunter and I explored Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven from end to end.  Our journey was followed on Twitter and in several different online publications, including Little Rock Family and Tie Dye Travels.  Here's a roundup on where we went.

Day 1 - Louisiana border and El Dorado
Overview at Little Rock Family
South Arkansas Arboretum
Minute Man Restaurant

Day 2 - El Dorado to DeGray Lake
Overview at Little Rock Family
Arkansas Museum of Natural Resources

Day 3 - DeGray Lake to Hot Springs
Overview at Little Rock Family
DeGray Lake Resort State Park
Mid America Science Museum

Day 4 - Hot Springs to Mount Nebo
Overview at Little Rock Family
Galaxy Connection

Day 5 - Mount Nebo to Harrison
Overview at Little Rock Family
Rotary Ann

Day 6 - Harrison to Diamond City
Overview at Little Rock Family
Arrowhead Lodge at Lakeshore Treehouse Resort

Oh How I Love Thee, Rotary Ann.

This article, I kid you not, is about a comfort station, a roadside station... in short, a rest stop along Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven.  What?

Highway 7 didn't exist before Arkansas joined in

the federal program for numbering highways, and then it ran from Camden to Harrison, with several sections a bit different from what they appear to be today.  Much of the roadbed was dug out with mules and carts back around the turn of the

century.  It improved a little over the ages, but slowly.  That roadbed received its designation as State Highway 7 in 1926.  It was a gravelly passage (except for around Hot Springs) and it was a bugger to traverse.

In the Ozarks, it was made even worse by the undulating peaks and valleys of the Ozark Mountain Plateau, rocky on its best days and horrifically muddy on bad ones.  But because it connected Russellville and Harrison, which connected to other important cities, it became a major route for travelers.  Mind you, this was back in the day when cars were still a relatively new invention.  There were few places to pull over and have a lunch, or even a break from the road itself.

Enter the Rotary Anns.  Now, the term Rotary Ann comes from two women -- one was Ann Brunier, who traveled with her husband to a Rotary Club convention from San Francisco to Houston in 1914.  She was the only woman on the train headed to the conference, and by the time the couple deboarded everyone was calling her Rotary Ann.  Ann Gundaker of Philadelphia was also at the event with her husband, and by the time it was over she too was known as Rotary Ann.  The name stuck, and the ladies auxiliary membership for the Rotary Club went by the Rotary Anns up until the 1980s.

The auxiliary members in Russellville saw a desperate need for a plate to stop along the route... not only because of the need for sanitary bathroom facilities, but to give drivers a place to take in some of the amazing views of the Arkansas Ozarks.  They encouraged development with the Rotary Club, and in the 1930s a scenic overlook with places to park was created along Highway 7.

It was the first rest stop in the state, and it should be around a good, long time.  In 2004, the stop was reopened after a year-long renovation and upgrade.  Today, it includes an unmanned restroom for men and women, interpretive panels, rail-guarded overlooks and picnic tables, along with lanes allowing for small

vehicle and bus parking.

Highway 7 received its Scenic Byway status in 1994, at one of the last high points of tourism in the area.  That happened to be the last year Dogpatch USA was open, and new developments

around the state were already drawing away travelers.  Upgrades to US Highway 65 to the east and plans to create an interstate through northwest Arkansas to the west were already underway.  Traffic dwindled.  Businesses faded.  Yet, Rotary Ann has been there throughout the decades.

Ask any Arkansas Boy or Girl Scout, family member who's traveled or motorcycle enthusiast about the highway, and they may mention this splendid little site.

I try to stop often, and I have many photos of these quick stops.  On Spring Break with Hunter last week, it came in very handy.  Hunter enjoyed

its views, too... as did the more than two dozen different individuals we counted that passed through in the quarter hour we were parked there.

If you're looking for Arkansas's oldest rest stop or would like to take in a gorgeous view, head up Highway 7.  You'll find it south of Pelsor and north of Booger Hollow.  Take a few moments and enjoy the view.

Poking Around Front Porch Bakery in Caddo Valley.

While traveling our epic Spring Break on 7, Hunter and I ducked in for a few minutes to check out Front Porch Bakery - a house, a flea market, a consignment shop, a bakery all rolled into one.

El Dorado Creamery Offers Great Sweet Treats.

Headed to L.A. this Spring Break?  Here, L.A. stands for Lower Arkansas, and its epicenter is El Dorado. And for ice cold creamy treats, El Dorado Creamery is the stop you need to make.

Scenic Seven, Fog and the Cheese Volcano.

A good story will take me interesting places, and sometimes it'll bring even more stories to my attention.  And sometimes, the journey to the story itself is worthy of its own tale.

I've been painting my dining room and kitchen this week, but when I had an opportunity present itself for a good article, I jumped at the chance, rounded up Grav and we headed north and west to procure the piece.  Thing is, we'd happen to do this on a rather overcast, dank Thursday.  We almost threw the GoPro on the car at Russellville to record the journey up Scenic Highway Seven, but realized that it was already nearly 4 p.m. and sunset was at 4:15. We traded out so I could make the curvy part of the drive to Jasper.  Our intention was to head to the Low Gap Cafe before settling for the evening at The Hub at Marble Falls.

When we switched at Dover, it just looked wet and dark.  We weren't even to Big Ben's before the fog started to drop.  And I mean drop.  By the time we passed Mack's Pines we couldn't see Mack's Pines, just the sign, and I barely even caught a glimpse of the red and white of Booger Hollow (in a construction zone, mind you) before we were into the thick of it.

It was bad.  Periodically we'd see a little light shadow coming towards us in the dark, a car coming from the other direction that would loom quickly into view and then disappear behind us.  All traffic seemed to be going south; I'm guessing we were about the only people out crazy enough to attempt Jasper in this sort of weather.  Visibility dropped to 40 feet, 30 feet, 20 feet, and I just prayed no one was coming up fast behind us and that our tail lights were bright enough.

Rotary Ann was a single collection of glowing golden lights to our right as we peeled slowly through the thick blue fog.  After the building there, nothing could be seen except a hint of the railing and the endless fog beyond its lookout point.  We curled around and past and over.

From time to time, I'd get nervous about the right edge and nudge the rumble strip that runs along most of Scenic Seven's northward leg between Dover and Jasper.  There was the occasional dog that would be seen on the pavement itself, and I found myself wondering what home it should have been in, rather than risking its life on the asphalt.

There's an old vista on the east side of Seven not far from the top of the ride, normally offering a view of the Arkansas Grand Canyon, but outside of a break in the guard railing and a sign, it could have fallen off into space for all I knew.  Four does crossed in front of us right at the little roadside park at the crest.

About the time we passed the Cliff House Inn, we got a guy behind us who hugged my bumper for ten miles or better, making it even more difficult to see.  For the life of me, I could not imagine what possessed this individual to try to crawl into our backseat.  After all, visibility was all but gone at this point.  The bright lights sure didn't help.

We eventually got to a point where the big lug passed us, and once again we were swept into the dark, nothing but the headlights and the occasional light in front of a home to see.

That's when we saw the owl.  I don't recall seeing too many low-flying, cruising owls, especially in foggy weather like this, but we barely missed him as he majestically swept ahead of the windshield.  Grav and I discussed whether it was a white owl or a barred owl as we continued to climb.  At Scenic Point, we barely glimpsed the sign; the old-fashioned bright yellow light was about all that was clear, and the tower was nowhere in sight.

And then the descent... the tight, curving section of Scenic Seven littered with big signs urging truckers not to go faster than 15 miles an hour and giving notice of the runaway truck ramp ahead.  We curled down with brakes on, the road slick, the pavement shimmering...

And about the time we got to the Newton County Fairgrounds, the fog was gone, a low ceiling of cloud above.  Around a curve, we started to see hundreds, thousands of dots of white and orange light from below.

The last curve and onto the flat into Jasper, and there was a police truck with its lights on.  I figured out what was going on in seconds, but even after I mentioned it to Grav, he voiced disbelief.

"It's a parade," I told him.

"At night?  No, not at night."

"Do you know how many nighttime parades I marched in when I was in college and high school?  I'm telling you, it's a parade."

"I don't think it is."

I rolled down my car window and we heard the strains of a marching band.  "It's a parade."

The young man in the police truck had stepped out to walk the line of cars that had formed behind us.  I asked him and he confirmed.  "Yes ma'am.  It just got started."

"Could we pull in over there?" I asked, pointing to the full service Conoco station closed right by where we had stopped.

"Yeah, get yourself a good place to watch!" he agreed, and we pulled on in.  

Grav pulled out his phone and grabbed a few shots, still incredulous that there would be a parade at night.  It was six o'clock on the dot.  We knew we weren't going to make it to Low Gap Cafe.

And let me tell you what... I have been to big parades and small parades, celebrated functions like the World's Shortest St. Patrick's Day Parade and the Big Jingle Jubilee.  And I have never seen any crowd as happy as this one for the Buffalo River Christmas Parade. We saw all sorts of crazy floats with fireplaces, wagons, even a helicopter.  There were motorcyclists with lighted bikes and people on four-wheelers, and Santa came through on a fire engine.  And every float had people on it throwing candy to the masses.  I even heard one guy comment "man, this is better than Trick or Treat."

Once the mules and horses at the end of the parade passed, I drove around the backside of the square and pulled up by the old jail.  We walked to The Ozark Cafe, Grav stopping to shoot the parade that was now passing in front of Emma's Junk and Antiques and the courthouse.

We managed to make it inside and got to looking at the menus before the crowd came through.  We quibbled over what to order... I think we both were intrigued by the idea of the Cheese Volcano, which was purported to be a pile of cheese melted on top of a half pound burger patty.  I managed to talk Grav into getting the Blue Cheese burger instead so I could enjoy the Cheese Volcano myself.

I was happy to see a few things -- such as the Best Breakfast in Arkansas placard from when I did that story in 2010.  There's been some changes, and the booths that were once in the front window aren't there any more (I bet they're in another section of the cafe).

We got onion peels first, and they were marvelous, and then out come our burgers.  And this?  This is epic.

Yeah, that pile of cheese advertised melts onto the griddle, making griddle-cheese-cracker goodness all the way around the thing.  It's just kinda amazing.

Not that Grav's burger was all that bad -- he added bacon and got himself an amazing piece of work.  But mine was EPIC.

So epic that I had a hard time eating it.  I finally resorted to a fork.

The Deep Fried Burger.

Let me point out that this is my third different epic burger at The Ozark Cafe.  My first was the Deep Fried Burger, which I had in May 2008 (I was pregnant, it sounded good).  The second was the Excaliburger, which you might recall seeing on the back of Classic Eateries of the Ozarks and Arkansas River Valley.  Grav and I tried that on our first trip together in July 2010.

The Excaliburger.

There are more epic burgers on the menu, I suspect, including the Firecracker Burger and the Ozark Pounder.  But they'll have to wait for another time.

We managed to peel out of there about 7:15 and made our way to The Hub, where Randall and Debbie happily welcomed us.  Today we have a great adventure ahead.  And the good news is -- though there's fog, there's light, and let's just see what today brings.

The Girl on the Bridge.

The Pruitt Bridge (1931) across the Buffalo National River
on Scenic Arkansas Highway Seven.

I thought it was all about the ride.

When I was a young girl, I went many times to Dogpatch USA. The straight stretches of Interstate 40, though new, bored me but I always loved getting above Dover. The vehicle was a car on the best roller coaster ever, one that went longer than a minute and a half and that took me marvelous places… to Booger Hollow and the little burg of Jasper.

I always knew I was close when we crossed the Pruitt Bridge over the Buffalo National River. We’d pass the A-frame cabins of Little Switzerland, climb around a mountain, curl down into the valley and coast across the old steel frame bridge. Once the bridge was crossed, I’d put away whatever tablet or game or book I’d had in my lap, knowing that just a few curves away was Dogpatch.

The view from the overlook south of Jasper.

At 17 I started at Arkansas Tech University. Weekdays were for class, Saturdays for marching band… and Sundays? They were mine. And I found myself in those years hitting Highway Seven… which was soon designated Scenic Highway Seven… found myself sliding past Dover and climbing into the mountains, sometimes stopping at Rotary Ann, sometimes at this overlook or that… taking the hard right downtown in Jasper and then out and up… and coasting over the Pruitt bridge, that sign that Harrison was about 20 miles off, the turnaround where sometimes I’d grab lunch at the Hi-Boy and sometimes I’d eat at Master Chef before heading back down into the valley and Russellville.

Dogpatch USA closed, and the next year I graduated and moved away.

Smokeshed at Booger Hollow, October 2007.

Twelve years later I’d venture that way again, one October afternoon in 2007 when I went to learn the fate of Booger Hollow. I found it closed. When I got home I wrote the story… on a brand new blog. This one, of course.

That trip sparked in me a desire to chronicle Scenic Highway Seven. I wanted to capture what I found special about it, this ride through the mountains that had held so many memories. I started collecting stories, photographing the drive each time I went.

The lady at Nellie's knew I was expecting.

I took the drive up and back in April 2008… with the thought that I was expecting. There was a lady in a flea market along one curve that told me I was… just by looking at me. And she turned out to be right.

Pruitt Bridge, April 2008.

That time, I coasted over Pruitt Bridge, pulled over and looked back. This is what I saw. And I knew I wanted to be on that road on the bridge. But not that day.

My cabin at Little Switzerland Cabins.

The next ride, the next month, I finally satisfied my curiosity and stayed at the Little Switzerland Cabins, unplugging from the world in an A-frame that overlooked Scenic Highway Seven with a comfortable bed and a fridge full of juice and absolutely no cell phone signal at all. I had to clear my mind a bit. After all, Hunter was on the way just at a time when I was just getting my start on the road… on this path, this path of being a writer. What was that going to mean for me?

Hunter with me at Jasper City Park, April 2009.

It meant… that a year later I’d be driven by my husband over that bridge, infant in the back seat, to do a story in Jasper. Hunter had slept the entire ride from Little Rock to Harrison and back down to Pruitt, where she woke as we crossed the bridge and started to holler.

The old bridge has been around 82 years. It was commissioned and built in 1931, one of four Pennsylvania-truss style bridges still remaining in the state. The old green bridge crosses the nation’s first national river… below it, during the warmer months, kids and adults play in the water, while in spring you’ll see canoes and kayaks passing by.

It has been a landmark in my memory my entire life.

Grav Weldon's shot on the Pruitt Bridge.

It was more than 100 degrees when I stepped on the bridge on foot in July 2010. I was working on a story for Arkansas Wild, a multi-faceted story I’d been meaning to tackle for some time and had finally found a commission to write. It was also my first trip with photographer Grav Weldon. While we were collecting stories, I mentioned my desire to walk the bridge, and he photographed me there… an image that has become iconic in my life. My friends told me it needed to be the cover of my book, whatever book I ended up writing one day.

Grav's interest the day he took the bridge shot
was more piqued by these rock piles along
the Buffalo.

That was three and a half years ago. I could no more have told you that I’d have two books under my belt then than anything else. Indeed, my life is so very different these days.

I left life on the road behind at the end of 2011 for the sure thing of a day job. Hunter started school soon afterward. I’ve gone through a lot since the day I walked the bridge… divorce, publication, growth, survival. Hunter has grown into a tall girl of five.

The Excaliburger, photographed
during that July 2010 trip, is on
the back cover of my second
book.

I still find excuses to cross the bridge… for research, for stories, for the fun of it. I’ve crossed after ice storms that ripped branches from the trees. I’ve crossed in the fog of early September mornings.

April 2013… the story came… the Pruitt Bridge is being replaced. The Arkansas Highway and Transportation Department was looking for a buyer – but have decided to instead just build a new bridge alongside and close the older bridge to all but pedestrians.  82 years is a long time for a bridge, especially along Arkansas’s longest state highway.

But that’s neither here nor there.

The thing is, 2013 has been a very full year, very busy. I look back and see how packed it was, how every single moment seemed to be bursting with things to do, so much time in motion.

I’ve been rather ill this past week, with one of the worst colds I’ve ever caught. I’ve been too out of it to concentrate on writing, or even just mindless TV watching to be honest with you. It’s left me with a lot of time to think.

I’ve done a lot in my life… a lot of big jobs and a lot of big events. But I have been my happiest when I’ve been sharing stories of where I’ve been and the people I’ve met… oh yes, the food I’ve tried as well, but not so much. I’ve wanted to share what is now and what was… so there will be some record of these things for the days to come.

And I realized something. I am the girl on the bridge. I have told the stories about the chances I’ve taken and the adventures I’ve had… and that is more me than anything else.

I think I need to take another drive.