Okay, so here I sit in a hotel named for a Swiss mountain of some repute listening to what sounds like a near-constant stream of Harley Fergusson motorcycles passing in very low gear, getting ready to slip into a tuxedo and attend the wedding of a dear friend in a glass-and-wood chapel in the middle of the woods of Arkansas that was designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright.
Could I be any happier?
Well, I DID catch some nice photos of a pair of black-with-white-chevrons ex K&O RR engines on the way up. And tomorrow's iteniary includes going into some really beautiful caves and then maybe a trip to see one of the world's few natural stone bridges AND a house-sized rock balanced on a tiny spire of rock, both of which, I'm told were featured on Ripley's Believe It Or Not. OH, and stopped by a gorgeous little tobacconist's place in Eureka Springs for a couple of Punch puros to puff on while we wandered the streets of this almost-New-Orleans-and-almost-Pacific-Northwest little town.
Let's put it this way--it'd take some doing.
Oh, and I'm not at work.
This place is unreal. The GPS lead us up the back way, no interstates at all hardly, nothing but winding two-lane roads through back country that got progressively more hilly, wooded and rural. Gorgeous stuff. And it's not done yet.
This place is just too freaking pretty to be Arkansas. It looks like it was ripped right up out of the country between Eugene and Florence, OR and put here whole, with some more pine trees tossed in, and lots less hippies. Winding roads? It's a motorcyclist's wet dream. NOTHING but twising, winding roads, many with massive mountain-sides on one edge and calamttous drops on the other. Oh, and often they've got DOT warning signs that say "Warning: Crooked And Steep Roads Next 10 Miles." Yeah, I'm wishing I could have forked over the cash to have trailered Sally up here. Maybe next time.
Did I mention the scenic railway tour that lets you eat dinnerr in Pullman cars? (Again, perhaps next trip up. Budgetary concerns.) But oh my kids, it's lovely as a newly-minted penny up here. Victorian painted lady houses everywhere, buildings dating into the beginnnig of 1900 and winding pedestrian-friendly streets. Shops? Check. Art? Check. Everywhere. This place is very artist friendly. And not hot! It's unreal.
So yes, I'm having a good time. Hell, a grand time. I feel utterly stress-free for the first time in way too many months. Already planning on coming back to catch all the things we can't catch this time. And then some.
Did I mention the candy shop with the antique taffy-pulling machine in the window, working on an electric-green wodge of taffy? Oh yes, photos to follow. Foolishly I didn't bring my USB cable to hook the camera to my lappy. Or, for that matter, my wallet. I remembered the tux, though, and my appetite for giant blocks of sinfully good fudge. And a pound of saltwater taffy. And even a piece of lovely jewelry for the missus.
It's been a great microcation. More to follow.