Postcard From Dawt Mill - Missouri

Grist mills were once abundant along most rivers where the natural rushing waters helped with the needs of man. These mills often became the centers of community life until the automobile came along. Often, along with the mill, there would be a blacksmith shop, a general store with a post office and a sawmill or cotton gin. People would come from miles around to visit, exchange news, and even vote. In the Ozarks, the mill's main business would be grinding corn rather than milling flour as it was easier for the farmers to raise corn in the hills and valleys rather than wheat which was grown more frequently in the flatter, open areas. Many folks were particular about getting back the meal from their own grain rather than that traded to them by the miller from his holding bin, minus his toll, so they would bring their own white woven sacks and wait for their corn to be ground.

About 2 miles from the intersection of Route 160 and RR PP just east of Gainsville, Missouri, is the Dawt Mill. Perched on a bank of the North Fork of the White River, the mill is advertised by the Ozark Heritage Tourism group as being a resort with a working mill, canoeing, lodging, camping, gift shop, restaurant and deli, food and supplies.  Sounded good to us.

Unfortunately, someone at the Ozark Heritage group took extreme literary license. The good news was the restaurant is in the process of being renovated and it looks real nice plus, all of the signs seemed to have been recently refurbished.  But at the time of our visit (7/2011), the working mill wasn't and the very small, ancient, wooden-floored gift shop had a few dust covered odds and ends to go along with the chips, cold drinks and candy bars. I'm not sure about the deli because there was nobody there and the shelves and counters were empty. The campground was suitable only for tent camping. The canoes for rent seemed pretty decent, but everything except the restaurant looked to have been built in the 1940's; often the sign of something interesting, but in this case, it looked like nothing had been touched in the way of maintenance since then. The place reeked of old, dusty, tired, and worn out.

At Dawt Mill

To be fair and give it a chance however, we asked to see a room, thinking maybe the new owners had already renovated them. No, afraid not. We were shown what was described to us as one of their best rooms. If that was their best, I would be afraid to even go into one of the bad ones. Threadbare carpet, very old, beaten up furniture with cigarette burn marks along the edges, a window air conditioning unit with the face missing, the floor groaned as I took a step across it, and just like the rest of the site, it felt old, sad and very used.

The people staying there and out walking around were probably not the kind of people we would be likely to strike up an immediate friendship with - they with their bodies covered in tattoos, a cheap beer constantly in hand, and loud speech indicative of having dropped out of school in the 8th grade. I don't mean to sound elitist or full of myself, I'm sure they were all fine folks in their own ways. It's just that their ways and our ways don't usually mix all that well. We are no longer 19 years old with nothing on our minds other than running around mostly naked, drinking beer, getting dirty, howling at the moon and partying all night. Alright, maybe there was a time way back when, but that's been a good long while ago.

We were hungry and the restaurant looked good so we gave it a try. Based on my observation of the rest of the place, my expectations were not high. I was wrong. The food was wonderful! Because I didn't have much hope for it, I just ordered a hamburger - hard to really mess up a burger. That was one of the best burgers I've ever had. Cooked to perfection, the fresh bun lightly toasted, tomatoes and onions that tasted like they were fresh out of a garden. It came with excellent crispy fries and 3 amazingly perfect onion rings. These rings were worth kicking somebodies butt for if they tried to steal one. I would drive a hundred miles out of my way to eat there again. Go there. Eat there. Then go away full, satisfied, and ready to tell all of your friends about this wonderful meal you had at the Dawt Mill! We just might give it a year or so and come back. If this is a sign of what it will be like after all of the renovation work, it just might be one heck of a nice place for a long weekend!

After walking a ways up and down the river bank, the heat and humidity finally drove us away. Since we didn't get a room there, we had to find some sleeping accommodations. We were deep in the middle of almost nowhere, just across the Arkansas state line. Since we were so close to Mountain Home and we knew there were a number of decent motels there, that's where we decided spend the night. On the way, just a few minutes after leaving the mill, it began to rain. Then it poured and kept pouring. We made it to Mountain Home safely and found a decent hotel with a covered entrance. The price was ok, especially after getting a good discount by using my AARP card (I don't brag about being a member, but I sure do use my card to get discounts!) so we were "home" for the night. After dragging up to the room just the bags and things we needed for the night and parking the car with the rain still coming down, we dried off and settled in to our modern, air conditioned, very clean and comfortable room with the flat screen TV. I opened the shades to check out our view. The rain had stopped. And at the Dawt Mill, the night's party had probably just started.

Postcard From Missouri Rt. 160

The only place I had been to in Missouri was Branson so my knowledge of that state might fill up a thimble - the James-Younger gang was from Missouri as was William Quantrill, the famed guerrilla leader during the Civil War; and there's the arch in St. Louis; and the University of Missouri with their black & gold colors is somewhere in the state; and, um, nope, I'm drawing a blank now. Oh, wait, a little bit of trivia - the mean center of the U.S. population is in the town of Plato, county of Texas, Missouri. Just one of those useless facts that somehow found a home in my head. (Note to self: go to Plato, Missouri at the first opportunity!)  Missouri is just not an interesting place except maybe for those who live there. I don't think I've ever met anyone that was born in Missouri, at least not anyone who was proud enough to claim it. You never hear of folks from other countries say, "I want to come to the States to visit Missouri!"  You never hear anyone who say visiting Missouri is on their bucket list.

You may know Missouri is called the "Show Me" state. The most most likely legend attributes the phrase to Missouri's U.S. Congressman Willard Vandiver, who served in the United States House of Representatives from 1897 to 1903. Vandiver attended an 1899 naval banquet in Philadelphia and in a speech there, declared, "I come from a state that raises corn and cotton and cockleburs and Democrats, and frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me. I am from Missouri. You have got to show me." The version I like best though places the slogan's origin in the mining town of Leadville, Colorado. A miner's strike had been in progress for some time in the mid-1890s and a number of miners from the lead districts of southwest Missouri had been imported to take the places of the strikers. The Missouri miners were unfamiliar with Colorado mining methods and required frequent instructions. Pit bosses began saying, "That man is from Missouri. You'll have to show him."

Rt 160, coming up on a finger of Bull Shoals Lake

Keeping with that motto, it was time for me to see some of Missouri for myself. From Branson we crossed an arm of Lake Taneycomo and headed east on US Route 160, a 1,465 mile long 2-lane blacktop stretching from Poplar Bluff, Missouri to Tuba City, Arizona.  We would drive about 90 miles of it. The Route 160 number may not be familiar, but the route itself might ring a faint bell in your memory if you are old enough to remember trucker songs by C.W. McCall in the mid-1970's. The portion of this road through Wolf Creek Pass, Colorado was the inspiration for his song, "Wolf Creek Pass." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xC_onLPc-0E

Speaking of C.W. McCall, his real name was William Dale Fries, Jr.  In 1974, he was working for an advertising agency and he created a television promotional campaign advertising Old Home Bread for the Metz Baking Company. The advertisements featured a truck driver named C. W. McCall, who was played by Dallas, Texas actor Jim Finlayson. The waitress in the commercials named Mavis Davis was played by Dallas actress Jean Capps. The commercial's success led to popular songs such as "Old Home Filler-Up an' Keep on a-Truckin' Café", "Wolf Creek Pass" and "Black Bear Road." The most famous of his songs was "Convoy."  Fries sang and wrote the lyrics and Chip Davis, who later was a member of Mannheim Steamroller, wrote the music. None of them were born in Missouri.

One of the old bridges crossing an arm of 
Bull Shoals Lake

At least along Route 160, Missouri is much prettier than I thought it would be. Considering I never really gave it that much thought, I guess that's not saying a lot, but still, it was nice. Bull Shoals Lake is interesting. It's a large lake located in both Missouri and Arkansas with numerous inlets and fingers. We crossed numerous old bridges and drove for miles beside portions of it. I always enjoy driving beside water. Maybe it's the old sailor in me feeling a little bit at home so near a body of water, even if it's just a lake instead of the open ocean. There wasn't much traffic at all and we passed through a good number of small towns that appeared to be inhabited, but seemed almost deserted. There were plenty of little stores that had gone out of business in these towns, attesting to the economic times we're enduring now. To me it feels like the heart and soul of the America we grew up with is being sucked out of existence and I'm afraid it will never return in my lifetime. It was a nice drive, but even with portions of the drive being beside the lake, I had to fight against a persistent depression.

We stopped for gas and a potty break in the small town of Theodosa. I was rather surprised to find the gas pumps were still of the old kind; old enough to not be able to take a credit card at the pump. Usually you have to go inside and pay before pumping, which is a big hassle if you are filling up and don't know how much it will take. Here though, the clerk inside the store looked out at me, waved and readied the pump to pump. After I paid the friendly lady behind the counter for my gas and we talked about the weather and the slow business, I made my way back to the restroom. Yes, restroom, not restrooms. No separate men's & women's, just the one. And I spied something hanging on the wall that I haven't seen in a gas station restroom since I was a teenager - a condom vending machine. 75 cents for two. Prices have sure gone up as they were 25 cents for two back when I bought, er, I mean, I heard they were 25 cents for two back when I was a teenager. OK, enough on that subject.

The Old Harlin House Cafe

The Mamma-woman had heard of an historic old house which had been turned into a cafe in Gainesville, right along our route. The Old Harlin House was built in 1912 and was restored in 2003 when it was named to the National Register of Historic Places. The interior has been preserved to reflect the period. She wanted to stop. We stopped. They close at 2:00 after lunch and we arrived at 1:15. There were only 2 other customers in the place so it certainly wasn't busy, but our waitress seemed to be ready to close up and kind of acted like we were a bother. She wasn't hostile, but I sure wouldn't call her friendly. No "Hi, I'm (insert name here). How may I help you?" or "What can I get for you?" or "Can I start you off with something to drink?"  Nope, not from this girl. With a totally bored look on her face she asked, "What would you like?" She answered questions in a flat, monotone voice and never came close to working one of the few face muscles it takes to smile. Perhaps she had a fight with her boyfriend. Perhaps that is just her personality. If it is, I suggest she make an effort to change it or get a different job. I didn't ask her name or even try to engage her in a conversation like I normally do. I was already depressed enough. I ordered and ate an unremarkable steak and grilled peppers sandwich smothered in some kind of cheddar sauce. I can't remember what the momma-woman had, but the fact that I can't remember much about her meal, much less my own is not a sign of greatness. It was ok, but I've had better or at least as good at T.G.I. Fridays. Maybe dinner is better, but for lunch, don't go out of your way for it.

Our destination, a water-powered grist mill was just down the road now. So far, Missouri had proven to be visually pretty with some nice, friendly folks and at least one bored, unfriendly one. Nothing bad to say about it, but nothing particularly great or interesting to say. Maybe that's the reason you never hear much about this state. It's just kind of there, lukewarm, passing time, filling in space. Maybe that would change when we arrived at Dawt Mill, supposed to be a fun, happy place on the North Fork River. Come on back when I write about it later. I know, cliff-hanger. But it's late now and I'm tired from working all day. So off to bed I go, perchance to dream a wonderful dream. Don't let the bedbugs bite.

Postcard From Silver Dollar City

Got up early (early for being on vacation anyway) for a long and hopefully fun day at Silver Dollar City, the family-oriented theme park in Branson, Missouri. It's July and hot, real hot, Africa hot, so we figured we would get an early start and beat the heat as much as possible. I dragged myself out of bed first, took a shower, shaved the tiny hairs off my face and accomplished the usual morning bathroom ritual without wounding myself.

As I headed down to the lobby for coffee and breakfast and more coffee, I woke the girls enough to be reasonably sure they would get out of bed even if I wasn't there offering my supportive and loving encouragement for them to get their butts up. After eating too much breakfast (it's hard to stop eating when the food tastes good and it's free) and returning to the room, I was pleasantly surprised to find the girls up, dressed, and ready to get the show on the road. I recorded this astonishing event on a calendar.

The park opens at 10:00 so we left at 9:30 when the temp was only 87 degrees and about 90% humidity. New Yorkers die in this, but it wasn't too bad yet for us. We arrived at the park at 9:50 and decided to save a little by parking in the free lot. There's a reason we should have paid to park close - we ended up in the south 40 about 1 mile from the gate - all of it up hill. Rather than walk 100 yards downhill to catch a tram to the gate, I was struck with the brilliant idea that since we could kind of see the front of the park up the hill, we would just walk it. More like I was struck dumb. By the time we had walked half the way, with the blacktop parking lot we were walking over, the temp must have been 100 and the humidity must have been 99%. We hadn't even made it to the ticket counter yet and we were sweating and huffing and puffing like we were trying to traverse Death Valley. We finally made it up that hill and across that parking lot, but the issue was in doubt a good bit of the way.

And then you take a left at the wooden 
roses place...

Fortunately, once inside the park, there are lots of tree's for shade and all of the buildings have great air conditioning so we were able to weave our way into the a/c every now and then as we ambled along to the rides and shows we wanted. I must say the employees, each and every one without fail were extremely friendly and helpful. Even later in the day when the heat and humidity was almost unbearable, they still stopped whatever they were doing, smiled and politely answered our questions or gave directions. A lot of them were in the senior citizen age range dressed in period clothing, but even the kid employees did the same. I was very impressed.

There are a lot of water rides to help you cool off. Compared to Six Flags, the water was pretty darn clean and smelled like, well, like water. The last couple of times I've been to Six Flags, the water looked and smelled rancid; not something you want splashing on your clothes and in your face.

The mad woman standing on the left.

The Mamma-woman and I took turns riding with Youngest-daughter so one of us could hold cameras and other items we didn't want to get wet. So I'm standing toward the end of the Lost River ride waiting on the girls to float by and hoping to get a picture of them getting squirted by this hidden water cannon squirter thingy. It only squirts about every 4th or 5th "boat" that comes by so it's just every now and then. A lady with a baby in a stroller walked up about 10 yards from me and stood right where the walk was wet from the water cannon. Sure enough, she's turned away from the cannon and looking up the stream where the boats are coming from when the cannon squirts and hits her right upside the head! She turned and with a huge scowl on her face looked for whoever dared squirt her. Once I see that mad scowl look, well, I can't help but laugh now as this is the best show I've seen since arriving here. She bent over and got her youngster out of the stroller, I guess to show the squirter she has a kid so don't get her wet or something. After looking around a bit more, she puts the baby back in the stroller and turns back to watch the boats coming down. You guessed it, about 5 seconds after turning her head she gets squirted again! Oh boy is she upset now! She's got a mean look on her face that would scare away the devil and she is frantically looking around to locate the squirter to really give them a piece of her mind. I'm about to bust a gut trying not to laugh out loud and draw her ire on me. This was worth the price of admission right here! I mean she walks up and parks herself next to a water ride and stands in the one place where the concrete walkway is wet and now she thinks some evil-doer person is just messing with her?!

An older gray-haired lady who looked to be at least in her 70's and evidently had also been watching the action walked up beside me and said in an almost whisper, "Is she just stupid or what?" as she pointed to the mad, wet mother. Well, that was the end of me holding anything in and we both started laughing out loud. Sure enough, the perplexed mom noticed us then and gave us one of her mean, drop dead looks before turning around. Sometimes the gods do indeed have a sense of humor because as she started to walk away, the cannon squirted again and got her in the back. She jumped, but kept walking away; probably never did figure out what was happening. The older lady and I talked for a few minutes after we managed to stop laughing. Ms Jean and I agreed, sometimes life can be very funny.

So what do you think about the food at the
Rib House?

While riding the lost River ride, we went right behind a Bar-b-que food place and boy did it smell good. It's been a while since I've had good Bar-B-Q so it was easy to forget one of my basic rules - never eat Bar-B-Q in an amusement park as it is always overpriced and never, ever good. It's a good rule to not forget. For $27, I got a beef sandwich that consisted of bread which was at least a week beyond it's expiration date and a few pieces of gross fat and veins mixed in with a little bit of tough meat and about 3 spoons of overly sweet baked beans from a can. Look up "disgusting" in the dictionary and there's a picture of that meal. Most of it went in the trash. Momma-woman got a pulled pork sandwich and 3 spoons of potato salad which had no taste. The girl child had chicken nuggets. The girl child loves chicken nuggets. She can do serious damage to a buffet if they have chicken nuggets. The girl child could not eat these "chicken nuggets." Go to Silver Dollar City, but whatever you do, don't eat at Riverside Rib House. They advertise "Best Bar-B-Q in the Ozarks."  They lie.

Panning for gold and gems.

Absolutely the best show was The Fabulous Wallendas, the world famous high wire walkers who have set several Guiness World Records. There were a couple of really good warm-up acts, but the Wallendas were amazing. As they performed, I forced myself to glance at the other audience members; all had eyes wide in rapt attention, most were open mouthed. I tell you, the Wallendas are GOOD and well deserve the acclaim they receive.

Warmup act did a great drum performance.



A few can do splits, but not like this!





She didn't just pose like this - she twirled
head over heals round and round.

Amazing act!

After thoroughly enjoying ourselves for over 8 hours, the heat and walking up numerous hills numerous times finally took their toll on all of us. We called it a day. Even though the walk back to our car would have been downhill, we stood in one final line and caught the tram, a wise decision as I'm not sure I could have made that mile walk and arrived still on my own two feet.  Before long we were back in our clean hotel room with a clean bathroom and fresh, clean towels and made up beds with fresh sheets. The room smelled nice, was refreshingly cool, the bed oh so inviting. I could get used to this. Jut waiting on my lottery numbers to hit...