Sam's Throne Camping

For most of my life, my "camping" has been in a camper at a lake with electricity. This was a 180 and then some.

Most of us excluding Amber hadn't done much tent camping, especially "alone" (sans parents) and with 3 naughty pups.

We didn't really know what to expect. The first car (Amber, Daniel, and I) rolled up to scope out the area and find a spot for tents. It was a hopping camp ground and spots were limited - we might have gotten the last one. Claimed and settled, the next car arrives with the other half the crew.

Idk how people found each other without cell phones and GPS in the past. The stars and wind I suppose. I would have liked to experience it though. It's kind of difficult to imagine in such a connected world these days, but that was one of the most memorable parts of this trip. No one had anything to do but enjoy each other's company and nature. It helps if both are favorable, I'm sure.

That evening, we took ourselves and the dogs for the short walk around the throne, learning this was more the climber's destination than hikers. I don't have the vernacular to describe the equipment, but folks were rappelling and climbing up and down the cliff side all over. It was very neat. The short hike still resulted in a panorama of the always beautiful Ozarks. The rest of it was spent around a camp fire just as our neanderthal forefathers intended.

We charged our forgetful buddy David with bringing the kettle for coffee in the morning - he forgot. We drove around to the nearest convenient stores and found nothing to help, so we made do by heating the water in a cast iron lid. Breakfast, natures medicine, and coffee. Hard to beat.

We packed up camp in the afternoon and found a hike to satiate our still hungry hiking appetite: The Glory Hole. And it was glorious. A mild hike to one of Arkansas more perversely named stream-born features.

This trip was about resiliency, resourcefulness, and glory (holes). We learned the hard way to double check what you packed and to make do with what you had.

"What kind of hound is that?" - a man to Gilbert (the pug)