This Hidden Region Is Arkansas’ Gateway to the Ozarks

Northwest Arkansas may be synonymous with Walmart, the massive, multinational retail corporation that grew out of Walton’s 5&10 in downtown Bentonville. But for me, an active traveler with an interest in cycling, hitting the trails, and enjoying a drink or two, Walmart is the least interesting thing about a region that’s bursting with a wonderful blend of vintage Americana and natural beauty.

The backbone of Northwest Arkansas’ outdoor playground is the Razorback Greenway, a 40-mile paved bike and pedestrian path that was officially dedicated in 2015. Most use the path for exercise and to get around in an otherwise car-dominant landscape. The Plaza at Pinnacle Hills, a new 10-acre luxury development in Rogers, is aiming to attract outdoor lovers drawn to more walkable urban design by developing right alongside the Razorback Greenway. (The Plaza includes apartments and the forthcoming Hotel Vin, scheduled to open in summer 2026.)

Sidney Roach, community manager at the Plaza, moved into one of the apartments during construction. Pointing out her bike leaning against the patio railing, she jokes about her short commute. When she wants a bit of exercise or to get a drink, she just hops on her bike and rides up to Natural State Beer Company, a German-style brewery that emphasizes Gemütlichkeit, a sentiment that roughly translates as coziness coupled with community and good cheer.

I start my morning on the Razorback Greenway, meeting Roach for breakfast at Un Deux Trois, a French-inspired bistro serving up a mix of homemade pastries and wraps, coffees, and curated wines from the likes of Burgundy and Piedmont. Having had the good fortune to travel in France, I can tell the designer did their homework with large windows welcoming in the morning sun and a shaded pergola underneath a white and turquoise awning that practically sings “La Vie en Rose.”

The Razorback Greenway stretches from the college town of Fayetteville, home to the University of Arkansas, through Rogers, and ends with mile 40 in Bella Vista, just north of Bentonville. I’m a completionist, so I take a lift down to Fayetteville with Rocket Woodlee, who manages the Phat Tire Bike Shop in Rogers. Mile 0 starts at Kessler Mountain Regional Park, southwest of Fayetteville. I quickly learn these mountain bike trails are just a taste of what you can reach off the Razorback Greenway. OZ Trails estimates there are more than 550 miles of trails in the region, giving Northwest Arkansas a strong claim as the country’s Mountain Biking Capital.

But I’m sticking to the pavement today and following Woodlee along the twists and turns of the Greenway. The path wraps like a ribbon, tracing the rolling landscape. I quickly lose track of my cardinal directions, but am content nonetheless to be zipping across charming wooden bridges with maroon-colored metal railing and surrounded by a collection of tall oaks, maples, and pines.

Around mile 30, we accidentally drift onto the Railyard Loop—a roughly 15-mile circular trail that connects downtown Rogers to the Razorback Greenway. The giveaway was the rail line we had been cycling alongside. The train enthusiast in me loves riding next to the rails, but less so when my stomach is screaming, and we have to double back a good 10 miles. Eventually, we’re able to connect a hodgepodge of trails and side streets to link up with the Razorback Greenway at the Walmart campus, leading into downtown Bentonville. We drop our bikes at the local Phat Tire Bike Shop and grab a late lunch at Taco & Tamale Co., an oft-cited favorite around town.

Fueled up on cheesy enchiladas verde, rice, and beans that could’ve sufficed for two separate meals, we make the final push to Bella Vista, but not before coasting around some of the trails off the Greenway that surround the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. After sailing underneath a massive spider (a sculpture, thankfully), we drift past mile 40 and finish at the Bella Vista Phat Tire Bike Shop, where construction is underway on a new mountain bike park nearby that includes a high-speed chairlift.

As much as I love zooming around on two wheels, I’ll always be a sucker for dirt trails on two feet. The Ozarks have tickled my imagination since I first got a glimpse by way of Anthony Bourdain’s 2011 episode of No Reservations. There’s a sprawling remoteness to it that’s still accessible. In other words, you don’t need to schlep up a steep 10,000-foot mountain to get away from it all. But the Ozarks certainly aren’t flat; the trails are more like a roller coaster, which is why many of the paths in places like Hobbs State Park-Conservation Area, 14 miles east of Rogers, double as mountain bike trails.

I only have one day on the trails, so I’m eager to see as much as possible. I got a tip from the local tourism bureau to check out the 7.8-mile Karst Loop or the four-mile Pigeon Roost route. Before my trip, I looked them up and saw I could easily connect them with a little extra sojourn on Wolf Den Loop—getting me to about 18.5 miles on the day. Sold.

The only way to do it, though, is by Uber, since I’m not finishing where I’ll start. But this turns out to be a lovely way to get to know some of the folks of this region, like my driver, Michael.

“Well, you don’t look like you’re dressed for the office!” he quips, noticing my running shorts and bright red Salomon trail vest. I explain I’m in town from Berlin by way of a family visit to Cleveland. He mentions having an Italian grandfather and dreaming of retiring there one day. When I say he’d likely qualify for a heritage passport, he practically bursts out of his seat with joy. “I’m going to look into that as soon as I get home!” he says, smiling.

We part ways at the Karst Loop trailhead parking lot. It’s a Tuesday morning, so I have the trails all to myself, save for the solo mountain biker I pass later on.

What can I say about these trails? They’re an absolute dream, rolling alongside one of the tributaries of West Fork Little Clifty Creek—the folksiest name for a body of water I’ve ever heard. Pausing on the rough sand near Beaver Cove, I note on my map that an aerial view of the water looks like an underground view of a tree’s roots spreading.

Karst isn’t just a nice, outdoorsy-sounding name for a trail. It refers to the unique limestone rock that formed as a result of being buried by an ocean roughly 350 million years ago. Fossils from the shells and marine life that lived in that ancient ocean can still be found in the rock.

Before closing the loop back to the trailhead, I take a tunnel that runs underneath Page Sawmill Road to connect with Wolf Den Loop. Away from the lakes, the trail turns into a traditional forested path that I imagine would blot out the sun with its canopy in peak summer. But as it is, most of the fall foliage has fallen to the ground—completely blanketing the trail in many sections between here and Pigeon Roost.

An informational sign along Wolf Den asks passersby to imagine spotting the red wolf roaming around these paths. We have to imagine because, as the sign explains, the wolf is now threatened and no longer living in the wild due to habitat loss and predator eradication campaigns that included government-backed bounty programs, trapping, and poisoning meant to protect livestock. It’s a somber moment on the trail, coming face-to-face with the consequences of our historical actions.

I’m only on Wolf Den Loop for about two miles before taking another connector trail briefly to my final stop of the day, Pigeon Roost. This is a double-stacked loop trail, meaning there’s a shorter four-mile loop for day trippers and a longer 8.5-mile option for overnight hikers looking to make use of one of the five primitive camping sites.

Small game and deer hunting is allowed in the area, so I made sure to check the permitting schedule online before setting off on my run. Hunting had been allowed over the weekend, but I’m safe on a Tuesday afternoon.

Like Karst Loop, Pigeon Roost runs alongside one of the winding arms of West Fork Little Clifty Creek. There’s an even thicker layer of fallen leaves covering the trail. Every step is an educated guess, with my foot sinking an inch or two through piles of leaves before reaching the hard surface of the trail. This is hardly an issue when hiking, but a little more precarious when running, where you’re inherently less stable and forced to more confidently smack your foot against the ground.

In a few instances, I lose track of the trail and have to pause, looking for the slightest hint of a curved divot indicating where the path might be hidden underneath piles of freshly fallen leaves. This works, coupled with the occasional white blaze painted on trailside trees.

Given the 20-plus-minute drive away from Rogers, I go ahead and schedule an Uber pickup in an hour at the Pigeon Roost trailhead with about five miles to go. Unexpected climbs (that I could’ve easily seen on my map) slow me to the point of having to push myself to the brink of exhaustion so I can catch my ride on time. Between labored breaths, I feel the rumble of an incoming notification. My Uber is early. I send a quick message promising I’m on my way and that I’m running. “Get it, Joe!” she writes back.

I make it to the parking lot right at 2:45 p.m., which is when I scheduled the pickup. I’m exhausted, ready to slither into the car and make a beeline to the nearest pizzeria in town for soul-replenishing carbs. “What were you running from?” the driver asks as I thank her for the bottle of water in between heavy breaths. “Hunters,” I joke.

After inhaling a veggie pizza at The Rail, I’m able to walk out and take in downtown Rogers for the first time. It’s pure vintage Americana at first glance, with its healthy stock of late 19th- and early 20th-century buildings lining the narrow grid of streets next to the rail line. The core is nestled in a pocket of familiar-sounding, arboreal streets: Poplar, Elm, and Walnut. Painted advertisements on the side of buildings embrace a kind of old America nostalgia, like the Stay True Bike & Barber sign that wouldn’t look out of place in a 1920s period piece.

I’m drawn to the old Dollar Saver turned Onyx Coffee Lab. It’s a massive coffeehouse full of remote workers, stroller-pushing parents, and friends chitchatting over a fresh brew. I get a hot cup myself, one of the tastiest I’ve had in recent memory. I vow to return the next morning before my flight home for another cup and to nosh on one of the fresh pastries.

For now, I grab a quick shower before heading to dinner and a mezcal tasting at Yeyo’s, which brings “el alma de México” (the soul of Mexico) to the heart of the Ozarks. The namesake, Don Yeyo, was a migrant farm worker in the early 1970s before establishing his own family farm in Little Flock, Arkansas, in 2007. Five years later, Don’s son, chef Rafael Rios, started Yeyo’s Mexican Grill to honor his father’s legacy and celebrate the blend of Mexico’s culinary traditions with the bounty of Northwest Arkansas. The 15-year U.S. Army veteran quickly became a James Beard Award semifinalist for Best Chef: South multiple times. In 2022, The New York Times named Yeyo’s one of the 50 Best Restaurants in America.

Daniela Pedraza, Yeyo’s beverage director, guides me through a tasting after I help myself to a savory spread of smoky squash asado tacos. Arguably one of the most important aspects to understand about mezcal, I learn, is that it’d be a far more reputable and expensive drink if it were produced in France or Scotland. Scotch, it seems, is a great stepping stone into better understanding mezcal flavor profiles.

“I’m a fan of the smoky, peaty stuff,” I say when Pedraza asks what kind of Scotch I drink. She reaches behind the bar and grabs a bottle of Laphroaig, coincidentally my go-to for an affordable home selection.

She starts me off with a classic margarita before shifting to the sampler. For something smoky, she offers up a taste of the Rey Campero Espadin. One sip changes everything I presupposed about mezcal, having long mistaken it for tequila. (Mezcal is the broader category of Mexican spirits made by distilling fermented agave. Tequila is simply one style within that category, produced exclusively from blue Weber agave in Jalisco, where most tequila comes from.) 

On my final morning, I make sure to stop back in downtown Rogers one last time for an everything bagel and schmear from Ozark Mountain Bagel Co. It’s a Northwest Arkansas chain of New York-style bagels with five locations, including the latest in downtown Rogers, led by Nicole Dobson, with her kids working the counter.

Dobson explains she likely could’ve made more of a profit opening up in the outskirts, where there’s a bit more money, but she wanted to be part of downtown Rogers’ story. She describes Fayetteville as the college town, Bentonville as the corporate Walmart hub, and Rogers as the blue-collar heart and soul of the region.

Walking along the Railyard Loop—the very same that pulled me away from the Razorback Greenway a couple of days earlier—I take a moment to admire the scene one last time. Down an alley, I notice a large billboard stretched across a brick building. On a backdrop of ocean-blue colors, the bold, white text reads a profound message from local artist and poet Robert Montgomery.

“We hold out our hearts for a new tomorrow, may the stupid fires of hate be healed by the cold water of kindness.”

I can see why someone like Dobson would want to be part of this community.