The beauty of the Ozarks pulls you deeper and deeper, until you find yourself meandering through the hills, surrounded by lush wilderness as far as the eye can see. Turn off the county road onto the final stretch, and now the trees grow together over your head as you drive through the green tunnel, birdsong on the winds, bluffs rising above the treetops. The pavement ends as you cross the creek, and anticipation builds–you know something amazing is on the horizon. When you finally arrive you’re confronted with an overwhelming sense of peace. Your shoulders drop as the cares of life fade away. Above the winds whipping through the trees you hear whippoorwills and cardinals. The hills overlap, dappled with walnuts, oaks, and persimmons. The creek gathers force as it rips through the crevasse and pours into Applegate Lake, and then spills over and ends up in James River, cutting through the long gravel bar between rows of giant sycamores standing sentinel.