A Gem of a Town

Hot Springs, Arkansas, an underrated area for gem collectors, rockhounds

Centuries before Hernando DeSoto explored what is now Arkansas while searching for the Fountain of Youth, American Indians bathed in the natural springs about 50 miles southwest of Little Rock. The federal government claimed the area as a reservation in 1832, and by 1860, European settlers had constructed elaborate wooden bathhouses. They drew large crowds, including President Theodore Roosevelt, baseball legend Babe Ruth, and gangster Al Capone, seeking to heal various ailments in the hot, bubbly water.

This town’s heyday occurred during the 1940s, when some 750,000 baths were administered annually, according to the National Park Service; that number dropped to less than 100,000 a year by 1979. However, annual visitation at Hot Springs National Park would rise to a record 2.2 million in 2021, up from 1.3 million in 2013. Many gamble at the Oaklawn horse-race track and casino.

Even more than the springs, I am drawn to dig in the hills several miles outside the town, adding to a rock, fossil, and gem collection I had started as a boy. There are mines like Wegner and Fiddler’s Ridge [which later worked with another called Twin Creek], where some search for large quartz crystal pieces. Then there is Crater of Diamonds State Park, where honest-to-God diamonds are found among the plowed fields.

In 2010, my kids were old enough to appreciate the amenities of this area and young enough to still think digging in the dirt was cool. So on our annual summer road trip from Maryland to Texas, we stopped in Hot Springs.

“Where are we going to stay?” Preston asked as we approached our destination. Our lodging was one of his top concerns.

“Maybe here,” I replied, pointing to an aging motel on the edge of town. Some windows showcased boards.

“That doesn’t look too good, Daddy.”

“You think so?” We kept driving and settled into a Value Inn.

“Does this place have a breakfast buffet?” Preston asked a clerk, voicing his chief requirement for a hotel or motel.

“Sure does,” she smiled.

“Do you serve waffles?” Preston had to know.

“I’m not sure,” she said.

“I like the waffles that I can make myself.”

“So do I.”

That settled, we moved into our room. “Can we go swimming, Daddy?” McKenna asked before I could even sit down. “That pool looks cool.”

“I have another idea for swimming, one I think you will like. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes!” Preston yelled. “I’m starved! I wanted to stop at that Cicis back there.”

“Me, too,” McKenna added.

I instructed them to put on their bathing suits under their clothes, then we filled up on pizza, pasta, salad, and brownies at Cicis. “Where do you like eating more, Cicis, Subway or Shoney’s?” I asked when we returned to the car.

“That’s a tough one. I’ll have to get back to you,” Preston replied, diplomatically.

“Subway is better for lunch,” McKenna offered. “Cicis and Shoney’s are better for dinner. I like them all.”

“Shoney’s did have some good roast beef. You can’t get that at Cicis,” Preston said.

The debate tailed off by the time we reached the Arlington Resort Hotel and Spa. I had previously stayed at this 11-story resort, originally built in 1875. The place had not only welcomed Roosevelt and Capone, but Bill Clinton, who lived in Hot Springs from second grade through high school. The resort featured the best outdoor pool and hot tub in Hot Springs on the seventh floor, fed with thermal mineral spring water. The spacious jacuzzi had room for at least ten people, built into Hot Springs Mountain.

“Just act natural as you walk through the lobby, like you own the place,” I advised my kids while parking our car on the street outside the hotel.

Preston looked worried. “What if we get caught? Will we go to jail?”

I laughed. “No, all they will do is kick us out.”

We made it past the lobby bar and restaurant to the elevators. Since I hadn’t sneaked into the pool in seven years, I forgot what floor it was on and took a few tries on various floors. The hotel’s halls lent an old-school charm, whispering of secrets that only the dead knew. I thought I heard laughter as we got lost.

“McKenna! Don’t make so much noise!” Preston yelled as she ran down the hallway, searching for a door to the pool.

“You’re making more noise by yelling, Preston!” she retorted.

“Both of you be quiet!” I admonished.

A man and woman looked at me curiously as they walked by us. “We forgot where the pool is,” I explained.

“Try the seventh floor,” the man advised.

The pool still provided towels to all, and we soon relaxed in the water, which was warm even at night. From the jacuzzi, I observed the kids do cannonballs and twirls from the edge, ignoring the no-diving signs with some new friends from Mississippi.

I didn’t make it a habit to sneak into places like this, but sometimes, it was worth the risk. The Arlington had welcomed more gangsters than Capone. There was even a nearby Gangster Museum. It fit with the atmosphere to sneak our way inside.

Gazing at the star-filled sky in the bubbling tub relaxed me in a way few other things did. The kids soon joined me in the warmer tub, before making their way back to the pool.

“So was this worth the risk?” I asked the kids as we exited the hotel.

“Yesss! That was fun!” they said in unison. They were asleep in the car before we made it back to our considerably less expensive lodging.

After eating all the muffins, cereal, and pastries — but no waffles — that we could stand the next morning, we drove into town. I stopped near the visitor’s center and filled up a few gallon jugs with spring water that flowed from a fountain.

We walked down Central Avenue, past government-owned bathhouses like the Buckstaff, a National Historic Landmark constructed in 1912. We visited a rock shop, where Preston found a water buffalo’s tooth and McKenna discovered a small quartz crystal.

“That one is small compared to the ones we should find today,” I told her. She still wanted the gem so we added it to our bag.

After a few more stops, we took off down a two-lane, country road portion of Highway 270. Near Mount Ida, I pulled the car into the gravel parking lot of Fiddler’s Ridge Rock Shop. I pointed to some huge crystal-covered boulders. “You ready to find some treasure like those, McKenna?”

“Yes! Can I keep what I find?”

“Sure.”

The noon sun baked us on the short walk from the car to the shop. “Our mine is not open much longer, but you can go up there if you hurry,” said the clerk. “I’ll give you half-price since it’s late in the day.”

She let me just pay for the kids, since it was almost 100 degrees already, and I told her we wouldn’t be there more than 30 minutes. The mine was about ten miles away, and the paved road turned into a dirt one for the last couple miles. We reached a gate where a Fiddler’s Ridge employee checked our permit. “It’s really hot out here,” he said.

“We don’t plan to stay long.”

“Okay. Can you close the gate when you leave?”

“No problem.”

The final few hundred yards was almost straight up the mountain. Near the cranes and backhoe were huge piles of dug-up outcroppings from the mine that sparkled in the sun like diamonds. McKenna threw on her gloves, grabbed her small shovel and bucket, and ran to the piles.

Seeing the treasure so close, Preston became more excited. Finding something that he could one day sell motivated him. “I’m a scientist,” he announced, putting on sunglasses and grabbing a hammer.

Between playing King of the Mountain, they found some nice-sized shiny crystals that were caked in red mud. An employee drove by in a pickup truck as Preston and McKenna displayed their finds. “Here, you can have these since you can’t be out here so long.” He handed me several bigger pieces caked in red clay that would look good once they were cleaned.

“Thanks a lot!”

We soon unearthed numerous other specimens that rivaled the man’s gifts. One pizza slice-shaped one was more than a foot long and covered in crystals like stalagmites in a cavern. Even Preston didn’t seem to mind the dirt much. But the heat was oppressive, and within 30 minutes, they had enough. They drank several glasses of water as I wrapped the muddy treasures in blankets and newspaper.

“McKenna! Take off your shoes!” Preston commanded. He liked having someone to boss around. “Wash your hands! I don’t want to sit next to you when you’re so dirty.”

“Okayyyyy!”

The 10,000-square-foot gallery at Wegner’s Crystal Mines had much larger crystal specimens from South America and other places worldwide, including three-foot-high, pointed clear diamonds that weren’t for sale. “Daddy, look at these purple ones!” McKenna said.

“Those came all the way from Brazil.” Some even appeared better than the ones we saw in the gem collection of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History in D.C. We would check out this place’s mine on a subsequent visit and unearth some nice pieces, though the Fiddler’s site seemed to have slightly larger ones. We discovered other gems, including opal. Open since 1981, the operation used wind power energy.

We stopped at Subway for a late lunch and Sonic for dessert in some nearby towns. Once refreshed, we were ready to check out Crater of Diamonds. Reading displays in the lobby, we learned that the 37-acre field was an eroded surface of a volcanic crater. More than 33,000 real diamonds had been found by visitors since the state park opened in 1972. The area was a private mine before that, and a worker unearthed a 40.23-carat one in 1924, the largest discovered in the U.S. The largest discovered by a park visitor was a 16.37-carat specimen in 1975.

The searching fees were reasonable: $10 for adults and $6 for kids ages 6 through 12. The digging cost at Wegner and other mines started at $19, though Wegner has a tailings field targeting younger kids for $6.60. Most diamonds were well-rounded stones about the size of a match head. “Those are small!” McKenna noted.

“Not as impressive as our finds, huh McKenna?”

“No way!”

“McKenna, you’re stupid!” retorted Preston. “These are real diamonds, like the one in Mommy’s ring. They are more valuable than what we found.”

“You’re stupid, Preston! Those are brown and yellow. Mommy’s diamond is clear.”

“Look,” I intervened, “it says diamonds can be found in many colors, with the most common ones here being white, yellow, and brown.” Billed as the only place in the country where visitors could hunt for real diamonds, I didn’t know of a similar site. The closest was Herkimer in upstate New York, where the clear quartz only looked like real diamonds.

I had tried my luck here a couple times years before, finding only quartz, garnet, and similar rocks. “Can we hunt for diamonds, Daddy?” McKenna asked.

It was almost closing time. “No, McKenna!” Preston answered, voicing my thoughts before I could. “We want to make it to Grandma’s, and we aren’t even in Texas, yet.”

“Yeah, I think we have found enough gems for today, Kenna. We can come back here and look some time if you really want.”

“Yes, I do!” On the way out of the gift shop, McKenna pointed to the inviting pool that featured long slides and fountains. “Can we go swimming?”

“It’s tempting. But you want to get to Grandma’s tonight, right?”

“Yeah.” But she didn’t sound convincing.

We would return and not have any luck finding a diamond. In a few years, the kids would lose their enthusiasm for digging in the dirt. They had other passions, though they retained interest in exploring nature at times. I’m used to digging for things and getting my hands dirty in more ways than one, so perhaps this comes more naturally to me.

Kevin Shay is a journalist and author of several books, including the U.S. travelogue-memoir, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Trip.

More details on gem/rock sites

Crater of Diamonds State Park, Murfreesboro, Ark., 870–285–3113 Only park in the country where visitors can hunt for real diamonds. Can also find amethyst, garnet, jasper, agate, quartz. $10 for adults, $6 for kids age 12 and under.

Wegner Quartz Crystal Mines, Mount Ida, Ark., 870–867–2309 Can dig for large quartz crystals in mines for $19. A tailing area is geared for younger kids at $6.60 for ages 2–10 and $10.50 for parents.

Fiddler’s Ridge Rock Shop, Mount Ida, 870–867–2127 At one time had a great quartz crystal mine. Now mostly sells treasures. Website refers miners to Twin Creek Crystal Mine [Mount Ida, 870-867–4945], which charges $25 for ages 11 and older and $12 for 10 and under.

Crystal Grove Diamond Mine, St. Johnsville, N.Y., 518-568–2914 Mine to unearth Herkimer “diamonds,” quartz crystals that appear to be diamonds. Open through mid-October. $12 for 12 and older, $10 for ages 5–11, less if you camp here.

Herkimer Diamond Mines, Herkimer, N.Y., 315–891–3099 Another mine closer to town of Herkimer. $16 for ages 13 and older, $13 for 5-12.

Penn Dixie Fossil Park, Blasdell, N.Y., 716–627–4560 One of best places to find trilobite fossils and more. Open through mid-October. $14 for adults, $11 for kids ages 3–17.

Flag Pond Nature Park, Lusby, Md., 410–586–1477 Hunt for prehistoric shark teeth and shells. $5 per vehicle, $8 for residents outside the county.

Emerald Hollow Mine, Hiddenite, N.C., 828–635–1126 Billed as world’s only emerald mine open to the public. Can also find aquamarine, sapphire, garnet, topaz, amethyst, quartz, tourmaline. $25 for 12 and older, $10 for 4–11.

Jade Cove Trail, Gorda, Calif. More of a hiking area where some hunt for jade and other rocks among the surf and coves of this Big Sur area. Pay attention to regulations on signs and don’t dig. Free.

Wyoming Dinosaur Center, Thermopolis, Wyo., 800–455-DINO Besides some impressive exhibits, this place offers dinosaur bone digs for a half-day or longer. You can’t keep discoveries, but they could be named after you if they wind up in a museum. $80 for a half-day.