Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

By The Erudite Redneck

BIG CEDAR, Okla. -- The mesquite "trees," red cedars and junipers of southwest Oklahoma and northwest Texas, the scrub brush that passes for woods in central Oklahoma -- even the interesting Cross Timber that Washington Irving famously called a "forest of cast iron" -- none of it cuts it for a genuine hillbilly Okie like myself.

The plains themselves, I've gotten used to. In fact, nowadays, after 15 years in the wide-open spaces, claustrophobia sets in sometimes among the hills here in "Little Dixie," which is what natives call southeastern Oklahoma.

But after an extended sojourn on the tabletop that is central and western Oklahoma, heading for the hills seemed important.

An 8-mile morning hiking trek over hill and dale -- and under the tall canopy provided by the big, big pines in Le Flore County -- provided the attitude adjustment I needed so badly.

This country is gorgeous. Sadly, it's hidden, for the most part. The nearest interstate highways are I-40 at the northern edge of the Ouachita Mountain range, and I-30, which lopes northeast from Dallas, but plays out before it gets here. And if you're going somewhere solely for the sake of getting there, of course, you take the path of least resistance.

But this trip was of a spiritual nature, of sorts. Church is fine and all, but nothing draws your attention to the Creator like the creation itself. Or, more to the point, taking on nature on its own terms.

This farm kid has devolved into a real desk jockey lately, so, while I eat like a hired hand, my hands are smooth, not rough, my face is unmistakeably caucasion not sunburned, and my arms and legs are just strong enough to get me by, not rock-hard from honest labor.

So: put ... one ... foot ... in ... front ... of ... the ... other -- for eight miles, with a friend who doesn't know "stroll" from "march." But then, I was in no mood to stroll. The hike was intended as the kind of I've-got-to-prove-to-myself-I-can-still-do-this stunt to which 40-year-olds are sometimes prone.

So 4 miles in, with my friend in the lead. Not even a rock or stump to sit on at the turnaround point, so a swallow or two of water and some peanut butter and crackers later, off we went again, this time with me in the lead.

No marching on the way back. More of a weary walk that soon became a stumble, followed quickly by shaky hands bracing buckling knees, from hollow to hill, across ridge and down narrow ravine, and back up again -- then down, then up, and up. Beset with something I'll call a "walking coma," I filed some of the images away for retrieval later, when the mind was capable of really enjoying them, not preoccupied with survival.

You get the picture.

And what a picture. This is rough country, around Big Cedar. It's real logging country. There are bears in these woods -- but we didn't see any, darn it.

Most western Okies probably don't realize exactly what the country's like here, other than that it's hilly and tree-y -- just like most of us hillbillies don't start out knowing much about the terrain of the Plains, other than that it's flat as a pancake, relatively speaking.

Where we hiked, exactly, was the Upper Kiamichi River Wilderness, part of the Winding Stair Mountain National Recreation Area -- 10,819 acres of wild country, about 12 miles from the Arkansas line, on the southern slopes of Rich Mountain; the elevation falls within a range of 1,520 feet, from 1,080 to 2,600 feet above sea level.

A lot of people have heard of the Talimena Drive, which borders the Upper Kiamichi River Wilderness. The state has designated it as Oklahoma Highway 1 for a reason: its the prettiest country in the state.

But you gotta get out of the car to really appreciate it.

And a tiny 8-mile hike provided just a taste of the natural wonder of the Ouachita National Forest, most of which is in Arkansas, actually. The national forest, the South's oldest, has more than 600 miles of trails for hiking, biking and horseback riding among its 1.6 million acres. The Ouachita National Recreation Trail alone is 192 miles across the rugged peaks of the Ouachitas.

Hernando De Soto was the first to explore this country, in 1541. French explorers followed, leaving place names like Fourche la Fave River. "Ouachita," in fact, is the French spelling of the Indian word "Washita," which means "good hunting grounds."

That's according to the Forest Service. All I knew when I got here was that it was intriguing and inviting and that I needed to explore it, the best of my home country, myself.

And, while I'm not really so taken in by such notions, in the back of my mind was this thought: maybe I'd "find myself" in these woods.

Imagine my surprise. There I was, sitting on a ridge, back to a huge pine, staring across a pretty hollow, listening for the whisper of the Spirit.

The still, small voice said: Go, live life. Come home to these hills anytime, son, you're always welcome.

END