The High Point of the Trip

THE OZARKS, MO


It is no surprise that Mormon mythology should have chosen the Ozarks as its Eden. Though not perhaps the most awe-inspiring mountain range in the U.S. (though, as I learned today, the only range that runs east-west), they are quite lovely really. This trip didn't include the time or equipment for exploring the vast waterways that the area is particularly known for, but I have spent the better part of the last two days meandering the windy roads and rolling hills through lush green forests. The weather is warm and a little humid, a pleasant change from the damp gray of Cincinnati, where I left yesterday morning to start my westbound progression. 


It's still a little early in the season for the enormous sweet blackberries that I remember from a childhood family vacation to the area, but this is turning out to be a lovely time to be here. The weather is warm but not sweltering, the trees and flowers are in full bloom, and the parks and campgrounds are still delightfully empty, a pleasure that will last only as long as school does, I'm sure. 

Driving down one gravel road, I startled two hawks who took to the air, one soaring in front of my truck, leading me down the road. Wildlife is abundant, particularly of the tiny hard-shelled variety. I swerved to miss hitting the first turtle, before I quite realized what the dark spot was. I passed several who weren't quite so lucky. I stopped to relocate one from the middle of the road, and remembered once reading something that suggested that turtles are deliberate in their movement and have quite the memory, so that if you were to put the turtle back where it started, it is likely to keep trying to cross the road. Old wives tale perhaps, but I figure I might as well help them along in their direction of choice. Though the first fella I stopped for was walking down the middle of the lane in the direction of travel, so it's hard to say where he started or where he was headed. I set him on the side, hoping he'd find the gravel shoulder equally amenable to travel. While driving at 50 mph, it's a little hard to tell if a turtle is moving at all. But I wondered how many of these shelled creatures, with their necks craned upward, were merely sunning themselves on a nice warm patch of asphalt, somewhat oblivious to the larger, faster, more menacing creatures rumbling by. After swerving around a gopher and a shrew, I stopped for just one more turtle, and after giving him a firm talking-to, set him on the opposite side from where he seemed to have started. 


I arrived at Taum Sauk Mountain Park, home of the highest point in Missouri. I've had sort of a vague, poorly-pursued idea of maybe possible considering thinking about hitting all the high points in the United States. Thus far this has included me stopping by when I happen to think about it, or catch sight of it on a map. While living in North Carolina, I hiked to the top of Mount Mitchell mostly for its views, and the fact that it is the highest point east of the Mississippi. Clingman's Dome was an accident on a drive through the Great Smokies- it is perched on the Tennessee-North Carolina border, though apparently leaning just enough over the Tennessee side to take credit as their highest point. I had stopped to fill up water, and figured I might as well walk up to the lookout. Only at the top did I realize its status as the state's high point. 


The most deliberate of my attempts, perhaps, has been Harney Peak in South Dakota. While traveling through the Badlands, my partner-in-crime and I had run into two hikers who talked about their exploits across the state. She handed me the map for the trail up to Harney Peak in Custer State Park and recommended it as a lovely hike. We were headed to Custer next anyway, and figured climbing the highest point was a happy bonus. The panoramic view proved worthless as by the time we reached the top, the entire valley was swathed in thick fog, and it had started to rain. By the time we returned to the van, I was soaked to the bone in spite of my rain gear, and stripped down in the parking lot, all sense of modesty gone with the clear skies. 

I've hit Sassafras in SC, Mt Washington in NH, and Mauna Kea in HI, though I feel a little guilty counting them since I drove to the top of each. Today's feat took hardly more effort. Taum Sauk Mountain is hardly noticeable as a mountain per say. By the time I arrived at the park, I had done all the elevation gain. I parked at the trailhead to find a paved walkway that wound through a lovely patch of woods to arrive, half a mile and not a single slope later, at a marble plaque marking the state's highest point. Slightly anti-climactic if I do say so myself. That's the thing about these fairly flat midwestern states- their highest points just aren't that high. I think I'll knock out Nebraska and Kansas while I'm in the vicinity, but I hardly expect a good hike. Perhaps Montana will have more to offer.