A Journey Through the Ozarks: Tracing the Bloodshed and Bravery of Wilson’s Creek and Pea Ridge

THE OZARKS —We recently embarked on a moving journey through the rolling hills of Missouri and Arkansas, tracing the intense and often overlooked Trans-Mississippi Theater of the American Civil War.

Our latest expedition took us to two of the most pivotal battlegrounds in the Western theater: Wilson’s Creek and Pea Ridge. Through our camera lens, we captured the stark contrast between the peaceful, sun-drenched landscapes of today and the brutal history that unfolded there over 160 years ago.

Wilson’s Creek: The First Major Battle of the West
  

The journey began in Republic, Missouri, at the Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield. Fought on August 10, 1861, just weeks after the Battle of Bull Run in the East, the Battle of Wilson’s Creek was the first major military engagement west of the Mississippi River. Union forces, led by Brigadier General Nathaniel Lyon, launched a surprise attack on a much larger encamped force of Confederate troops and Missouri State Guard.

Though the battle was a tactical victory for the South—and resulted in the death of General Lyon, the first Union general killed in action during the war—it failed to secure Missouri for the Confederacy. The fierce fighting bought the Union time to organize and ultimately keep the critical border state under federal control. While exploring the grounds, we could see where the heavy artillery that defined these engagements.

Pea Ridge: The Battle that Saved Missouri

Following the historical timeline, we traveled south across the border into Arkansas to visit Pea Ridge National Military Park. By early 1862, the war that many thought would last only 90 days had dragged on, and control of Missouri remained a highly contested prize.

Fought on March 7–8, 1862, the Battle of Pea Ridge (also known as the Battle of Elkhorn Tavern) was a decisive clash. A severely outnumbered Union Army of the Southwest, commanded by Brigadier General Samuel R. Curtis, managed to outmaneuver and defeat Major General Earl Van Dorn’s Confederate forces.

We looked upon sweeping views of the battleground from a high rocky overlook, illustrating the challenging, heavily wooded, and mountainous terrain both armies had to navigate.

The Union victory at Pea Ridge was monumental. It permanently cemented Union control over Missouri for the remainder of the war and opened the door for federal forces to push deeper into Arkansas.

A Somber Reflection

For us, walking the silent fields—now marked by wooden split-rail fences and silent iron cannons—was a stark reminder of the cost of a united nation. Through their travels, they continue to ensure that the sacrifices made in the rugged hills of the Ozarks are not forgotten by modern generations.

Stepping Through History: Our Day in Bentonville

BENTONVILLE- There's something about a crisp morning in Northwest Arkansas that makes you want to get moving. Terri and I recently headed over to Bentonville to knock out an AVA (American Volkssport Association) walk, and we couldn't have picked a better starting point than the historic downtown square. Between the fresh air and the deep dive into American retail history, it was a Saturday well spent.

We started our route right at the corner of NE 2nd Street, where the town's red-brick charm is on full display. Bentonville has done a fantastic job preserving its "Small Town, USA" feel, even as it serves as the home base for the global giant Walmart.  As we made our way through the square, we found ourselves standing in front of the iconic red-and-white striped awning of Walton's 5-10. You can't come here for a walk and not step inside the place where it all began.

Inside the museum, we followed the timeline of Sam Walton's journey. It's a classic American story: by June of 1945, Sam was discharged from the Army and looking for a place to settle down with his wife, Helen, and their first child, Rob.

He started out in Newport, Arkansas, running a Ben Franklin variety store, but eventually moved to Bentonville to open the store we were standing in. One of the most interesting tidbits we picked up was how the name "Walmart" came to be. In 1962, Sam was getting ready to open the first official Walmart in Rogers. A manager named Bob Bogle suggested the name, partly because it only had seven letters. Back then, you paid for signs by the letter, so "Walmart" was a whole lot cheaper to put on a building than "Walton's 5 & 10."

As we walked through the exhibits, one thing really stood out to me: Sam's 1979 Ford F-150 Custom. It's parked right there in the museum, looking exactly like it did when he drove it. It's got about 65,000 miles on the odometer, a four-speed manual transmission, and some old dog crates in the back. There was a quote on the wall that I think says everything you need to know about the man: "I just don't believe a big showy lifestyle is appropriate. Why do I drive a pickup truck? What am I supposed to haul my dogs around in, a Rolls-Royce?"

Seeing the original papers, keys, and even his sunglasses still sitting in the truck was a powerful reminder of the humility he expected from himself and his team, even as the company went public in 1970 and eventually crossed the billion-dollar-a-year mark.

After soaking in the history, Terri and I finished up our 5k loop. Walking past the old store interiors and the massive murals of the original "5-10" days really put the distance we covered into perspective. It wasn't just a walk through a town; it was a walk through a legacy of hard work and simple living.

If you're ever in the area for a hike or a ride, I highly recommend taking an hour to slow down on the Bentonville. It's a good reminder that even the biggest things usually start with a small shop, a cheap sign, and a reliable old truck.

Dinner on the Queen Mary 2

The Grand Lobby of the Queen Mary 2 was filled with the sound of the eighth bell. Right at noon, the Captain's voice came over the speakers, telling us where we were between South Africa and Australia. He also shared the word of the day, Snuffy, and explained that 18th-century sailors, forced into service, used handkerchiefs to wipe away their tears. But at Table 42, there were no tears. Instead, we heard the lively, steady clinking of silverware on china.

Our six-person dinner group felt like a small Commonwealth. Paul and Terri were adventurous Canadians from Yellowknife who once ran their own flying service with a slew of airplanes, including a sturdy C-123. Jeffry and Kink were a classic British couple living near Liverpool. Then there was us, the Americans, following the path of a Prussian great-grandfather who served the Kaiser as a cavalry soldier, who crossed the Atlantic three times to chase his dream in America.

Even though we came from different countries, we found we had something important in common. Each of us had two sons, all grown up with great families of their own. Every night, we quietly celebrated this shared legacy as we traveled together across the sea.

That night, we talked about the excitement of our departure. We remembered the cold, lively evening in Southampton 26 days earlier, when BBC cameras were filming, and the Royal Imperial Military Band played loudly in the Queen's Room. We recalled the fireworks lighting up the sky as the Queen Victoria sailed past us toward the Americas, while we turned east, honoring the old Royal world tours when people said: "the sun never sets."

Jeffry leaned in, eyes shining, and told us about his father. His dad knew the sound of a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine better than his own heartbeat. He worked on Spitfires that defended Britain and later maintained the same engines on Channel patrol boats that rescued pilots from cold waters. Hearing these stories made history feel real at our table.

Kink, who strongly supports the Monarchy, made us laugh with her story about her "unauthorized" visit to the Queen Mother's birthplace in the Scottish Highlands. She winked and said, "It's better to ask forgiveness than permission," as she described how she talked her way into the private gardens. She also predicted that King Charles might soon let William and Kate take over and bring new energy to the Commonwealth.

Then we started talking about Liverpool. Jeffry admitted he used to take girls on "cheap dates" to the Cavern Club in the 1960s for just a pound and a half." And what girl, exactly, would want to date you?" Kink joked, making everyone at the table laugh. We started talking about the Beatles. Both Jeffry and Kink had seen them play at local town halls before they became famous. For Kink, Paul McCartney was more than a rock star; she still thought of him as "a dream of a man."

In these 55 days, we have experienced a lot. We went through a Force 10 Gale in the Atlantic that made the QM2 feel alive. We walked among the "good rocks" of Stonehenge and saw the old ruins of Old Sarum. We had also just visited South Africa, where the animals paid no attention to our cameras.

But as we ate dessert, we felt a bit sad. In eleven days, we would reach Fremantle, and the "Yellowknife Flyers" and our British friends would leave the ship, ending the best dinner group we had at sea.

We felt like the world was ours, and the Queen Mary 2 was our home. But it was the people we met who made the trip special. We raised our glasses one last time, six proud parents and travelers far from home, making the most of every mile before we reached the pier in Perth.