Then, we went here:
This is the overlook at Petit Jean Mountain, where Arkansas is truly on display. Yes, that truly is The Teen, frolicking on a cliff with nary a guardrail in sight. C'mon...if there had been, he would have climbed over it. And, yes, I still have him. He did not fall off and become impaled on the wrought iron around the supposed grave of Petit Jean:
Lovely little pointy bits on that! And, holy cow, whodathunkit--this valley contains a river:
The Arkansas River, to be precise. If you have a really good eye, you might could spot the pontoon plane that buzzed us while we were standing on said guard-rail-free cliff and then swooped down to land on the river.
Some people should never have pilots' licenses!
On to St Louis tomorrow!