Dismal Hollow, Tributary of the East Fork of the Little Buffalo
  With breakfast at Denny's in Russellville behind me, my mind turned dismal as I entered the shrubbery. At 5:30 a.m with a temp of 26°, a pack of rabid hounds could be heard in the distant darkness moving in my direction. My only hope for survival was to lay down a line of something stinky to steer them off of my scent. My sack contained only three skunks. They were strategically placed in a "V" formation so as to divide the group of canine pursuers. Before long their baying could be heard diverging to the north and south of my path. Success was mine! Just before sunrise the edge of the forest dropped off before me into the chasm of sadness. This was a valley so filled with sadness that the earliest of settlers named it "Hollow from Hell". Jim Bob Thomas eventually laid down roots in the area and changed the name to what we know today as.......Dismal Hollow.
  Shortly after 6:45 the sun burst forth beyond the distant ridge and purged the air of dismality. A ten mile an hour wind also assisted with this task. The day became as bright as a day can become. The 27° air refreshed me as my gaze beheld the the wonder of this vale. After a time all was packed up and a search for a break in the bluff line was sought. The creek at the base of this massive hollow soon trickled near the point where my boots were attached to the earth. The creek was lovely save for an occasional mass of tangled trees that were not of survivor stock. These were the weaklings unable to withstand the storm that brought them crashing down. Downstream passage was difficult due to these piles of rotting timber. 
  After much peril...the northern bluff line of the hollow was before me. The base of this rock wall was traced to the east. Many curious formations and undercuts were inspected and analyzed. After much study, the deduction was that this is a cool place. Chigglers Falls soon stood before me. This was the final barrier to negotiate. Without a way up and over this wall of slippery rock, turning back would be my only hope. Luckily, a passage was identified on the the south side and with much danger, the route was successfully achieved. Lunch was then partaken of. My ragged body rested against a slab of Johnny Dolomite sandstone. The warmth of the sun did provide me with much solace, and my sammich provider the needed succor to rejuvenate my weary ass. At 12:20 with 44°, my origin was in sight. No humans were encountered during this short journey. My total hiked mileage was 4.4. Other forays into this area can be found here, here, and here

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