Going across the Mississippi was more than just an important geographical marker, it was an important change in the countryside that I was traveling through, and the people I cam across. For the first time crossing through Arkansas I felt that I had left the developed East Coast behind. Gone were the rolling hills, and the conveniently placed rest stops every twenty miles. Most noticeable to me, as a driver, was the lack of cars. From this point until I got to Texas trucks outnumbered cars 10 to 1. Traveling through Arkansas I really got a sense of how poor parts of America are.
As some of you may know, President Bill Clinton, despite his flaws, is one of my greatest heros. From his work with poverty to international relations, I thought President Clinton was a great global leader. Naturally passing through his home state of Arkansas, the majority of my sightseeing trips were Clinton associated!
One of the first things I noticed in Arkansas was the smoke. From the minute I crossed the bridge, there was a distinctive haze in the air. After a few miles, I realized that all of the farms along my route had burning fields. After driving on highways since North Carolina, I once again got fed up with them and took local roads to investigate, and ended up staying on local country roads all the way to Texarkana, the gateway to Texas.
The cause of the haze:
Rocinante in Farm Country:
I thought this was neat until I had to dodge a few of them coming down the center of the road...
One thing that really struck me about Arkansas after living in the Northeast was the roads. They were PERFECTLY straight and PERFECTLY flat for miles and miles and miles.
COTTON! I picked some and it looks exactly like cotton balls you would buy at the drugstore. I got a few looks as I was taking pictures of the cotton, and I could only imagine what people were thinking with Rocinante's NJ plates.
The next two picture's aren't great photos, but the five minutes I spent driving through the town (which name I have now forgotten) will stick with me to the grave. The next two pictures are pictures of the main road in the town (you can see on my GPS that it is the only main road). The people were dressed in rags. A number of women were carrying buckets of water from a common pump back to the houses that were no larger than one or two rooms. I did not take pictures of this out of respect, but poverty in America is still strong, and I had no clue the extent until I drove through that small town on that dirt road.