Story and photo by Dean Curtis
Special to GUIDON

I slowly slid on my backside over the sandstone rock ledge, wanting to look down yet not wanting to look down at the Buffalo River snaking its way through the lush green 350 feet below. My back was pressed tightly against the rock wall, which rose behind me slanting outward, not allowing one to stand upright.

I was intent on joining my friends for a group photo on the Goat Trail of Big Bluff, which at 550 feet is said to be the tallest single-faced bluff in mid-America. Progress was slow. I am not usually afraid of heights, but I was not entirely comfortable on the narrow 6-foot-wide ledge. As I scooched closer, my rather large friend, Kevin, was jumping up and down, perhaps goading me to hasten my progress, reveling in the moment, or trying to catch the attention of canoeists so far below.

If they were to gaze upward they would see us, the size of ants, on the jagged rock wall with the round, plump ant on the end doing jumping jacks.

I reached my friends, breathless again, this time not from the arduous 100-yard trek up the hillside but from the spectacular beauty of this vultures’ view of the Buffalo River between Steel Creek and Kyles Landing — rolling rugged green hills sliced in half by a sliver of silver river with brushstrokes of bluffs here and there.

I had canoed this stretch of river before, but time had never allowed for a hike up to the Goat Trail. Four of us set up camp on the gravel bar across from Big Bluff and spent the next day waiting for another group of friends to join us. We camped a second night, then loaded our gear and set off the next morning.

Just downriver, we landed our canoes near the stony dry creek bed on the left bank just before the Buffalo made a hard turn to the right.

We hiked 30 to 40 yards in and scanned the hillside to find one of several trails that zig-zags its way to the top of the bluff. It was a hard, steep climb of about 100 yards up the trail and we stopped to catch our breath several times. It eventually became less steep as we neared the top.

The trail took us through light brush and cedar trees, and we could catch occasional glimpses of the valley below. Finally, the bluff revealed itself rising on the right of the trail, with aged cedar trees toppling over the ledge on the left.

 

The trees gave way to an open view of the Buffalo River and the trail narrowed and wound its way around the curves of the bluff. A five-foot jump down to a lower trail and several more bends in the bluff took me to my current spot.

As we sat for our picture, we were thankful that the 40 mph winds from the day before, which sent tents rolling across the gravel bar, were gone. One by one, we left our roosts and carefully made our way back to the wider part of the trail, but the most treacherous part of the hike remained.

Caution was needed as we made our way down the steep hillside; a misplaced step and gravity would quickly send one tumbling.

We all safely reached the rocky river bed and our canoes. Two hours well spent on another river memory.

As I paddled away, I took one last look at Big Bluff before rounding the bend, and I knew my next time here, I would become an ant again.