Daily treks have hiker on healthy trail at Hobbs State Park

Bill Mills is on a healthy track of hiking after an injury left him inactive. “I wouldn’t be here today without it,” says Mills, who lives in the Beaver Shores community east of Rogers. Here he hikes at Hobbs State Park-Conservation Area.
Bill Mills is on a healthy track of hiking after an injury left him inactive. “I wouldn’t be here today without it,” says Mills, who lives in the Beaver Shores community east of Rogers. Here he hikes at Hobbs State Park-Conservation Area.

Bill Mills isn't his old self after hiking nearly every day for 13 years.

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Haile takes a rest while hiking with Mills at Hobbs State Park.

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Mills stops at an unusual tree during a hike. Some say the trees with bent trunks were created as saplings by American Indians to point the way to water or shelter.

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Mills carries a chair on his treks so he can rest midway through his forest walks. A muscle ailment still hurts him, but he hikes through the pain.

He's 50 pounds lighter. High blood pressure and a rapid heart rate are ailments of his past.

Mills, 76, is a fixture in the woods at Hobbs State Park-Conservation Area, where he hikes once, sometimes twice, each day. He hasn't missed many walks since he took his first hike in 2002.

His dogs, Haile, Sparky and Snowball, are his companions on these hikes, which Mills said saved his life. Every day they pile into Mills' small red pickup. They leave their home in the Beaver Shores community east of Rogers for the short drive to the park. Miles of trails offer healthy exercise, but Mills is a ridge runner of sorts. He's fond of bushwhacking along ridges where he sees wildlife and landmarks that few park visitors see.

A back and muscle injury years ago sent Mills down a path of inactivity. Walking just a few steps was painful.

"I got addicted to the recliner," he aid.

A fondness for sodas and chips didn't help.

"Even if I went into the grocery store for a loaf of bread, my heart would pound. It was scary," he said.

Part of his fear was what would happen to his dogs if he died.

"I wanted to outlive them," he said. "I realized I was going to have to get some exercise and get my weight down."

Mills changed his lifestyle. He cut out all junk food and sugary drinks. Hobbs is one of his favorite places. Mills started going there to hike.

"I started out going 50 yards, then 100. When I got my weight down, I could go one-half mile," he said.

Mills was hiking about that far when he was first featured in NWA Outdoors in 2011. A hike with Mills in May proved he's still on a healthy track. Back and muscle ailments continue to cause pain, he said. Sometimes the hurt makes him think about skipping a hike, but he gets up and goes.

On this sunny May afternoon, Mills parked his pickup along a gravel lane in the park where he knows there is a long ridge. He poured water into a bowl for his three dogs. They each lapped up a drink, then the quartet headed into the forest following the ridge top.

Nowadays Mills carries a chair with him. He'll walk for 30, maybe 45 minutes then unfold the chair and rest. On this hike he lounged in the shade of a white oak tree in the silent forest. Quiet and peace are elixirs for his soul. Fresh air and exercise benefit his body.

"I love it here. I just love it," he said.

Now and then the hiker picks up litter. If there's a tree down along a trail, he tells the park staff about it. Eddy Silcott, a maintenance worker at Hobbs, crosses paths with Mills a lot.

"He's as conscientious as any person out there, and he puts his words into action. He's always picking up litter and trash. He clears limbs off the trails," Silcott said.

When park workers heard Mills was taking park litter home to his own trash barrel, they told him he could place it in the dumpster at the maintenance building. Mills frequently reports limbs that are fallen across the trails, so workers gave Mills a folding saw so he could cut away small branches from hiking paths.

"You can hear him out there hiking. He likes to sing and sometimes you can hear him singing," Silcott said. "He cares about this park as much as anybody, including the staff."

On this May trek, Mills launched into a rousing verse of "Folsom Prison Blues." Then the hiker recalled some of his wildlife encounters.

"Last spring, I thought Sparky had treed a squirrel. Well, here came a big old wild turkey that flew right over my head. If I hadn't seen it, it would have scared me to death."

Mills likes to look for American Indian trail trees, called signal trees, on his hikes. Some say native Americans created the odd-shaped trees with bent trunks to point the way to water or shelter. Mills lets the park staff know when he finds a new one.

Mills' treks aren't long or difficult, but they've changed his life for the better.

"I stick with the easy stuff. Sometimes I wish I could go farther, but I thank God I can do what I'm able to do," he said.

Flip Putthoff can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @NWAFlip

Sports on 06/07/2016

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