Yesterday, I told the story about a not-so-modest female geologist during a particular summer field camp in Colorado.  My own field camp took place in Batesville, Arkansas.  We had an old farm house located some twenty miles from Batesville, on the bank of the White River.  Twenty of us bunked in the non-air conditioned basement.  Unlike yesterday's story, only male students composed my field camp.

For those that don't know, summers in Arkansas are hot and humid.  After a sweaty day of field geology, we cooled off with a cold shower (we had too anyway, as we had no hot water in our outdoor shower house) and a dip in the White River (the temperature of the river stayed at 52 degrees year round).  Even amid the heat of Arkansas summer, 52 degrees is a shock to the system.

Our Arkansas field camp was rustic, to say the least.  The last ten miles from the nearest highway was paved only with rip-rap from a local rock formation known as the Boone Chert.  Tire integrity in those days was not what it is now and punctures were a daily occurrence.  Yes, for those of you that know, Boone Chert is sharp and jagged.

Our mornings started at six with a breakfast of bacon and eggs.  Then, before setting out to map the wilds of Arkansas, we made and packed our own lunch - potato chips and a sandwich.  Our choices for that sandwich?  Bologna, or peanut butter and jelly.  I fondly remember field camp in Arkansas as the "Summer of Bologna."

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