Scenic Overlook, Ice Cream Detours, Branson, Missouri
My plan for the day was simple: explore the scenic overlooks around Branson. But like most days on the road, things didn’t unfold exactly as planned. I got a late start and found myself meandering through back roads that may or may not have been part of the scenic route. Google Maps was doing its best impression of a mischievous travel companion—sending me in circles and second-guessing my sense of direction.
A little after noon, I pulled over at the entrance to The Cliffs at Scenic View, a condominium project that looked like the developers ran out of money before it ever got off the ground. The large turnaround made a perfect lunch spot, so I parked beside the weathered sign and made myself a sandwich. While I ate, I double-checked my route and finally pinpointed the Branson Scenic Overlook—on Missouri Route 165 near Hollister. After lunch, I wandered outside to look around the site where the condo complex had once been envisioned. The area was littered with trash, and I couldn’t help wondering why the project had failed before it began.
A few miles down the road, I came to another pull-off—and this one was clearly the real overlook. Tucked just below road level was Vintage Paris Café, a cozy little mix of coffee shop, wine bar, and boutique. I’d already made myself a double espresso in the van (yes, my mini espresso maker earns its keep), so I decided to try a muffin instead. I ordered the banana-nut, but it must’ve been mislabeled—tasty, but no trace of banana. The café was buzzing with students hunched over laptops, and I found myself wondering where they all came from.
Outside, cushioned patio furniture and a gas heater (turned off) invited lingering. I sat for a while, enjoying the view and the quiet bustle of passing traffic. Across the road, the overlook opened to a sweeping panorama of Table Rock Dam to the left and, perched high on the ridge, the massive Chateau on the Lake Resort. Both structures dominate the landscape—a reminder of how much the Ozarks have changed since these hills were wilderness. I took a deep breath, snapped a few photos, and thought of the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia—how its overlooks seem to merge with nature rather than compete with it.
A little farther down the road, a sign promising Ice Cream – College of the Ozarks caught my eye. Mystery solved: that must be where the café students came from. I turned in through a gated entrance manned by a polite but serious security guard. The tall perimeter fence and guardhouse seemed unusual for a college campus. When I told him I was chasing the sign for ice cream, he smiled faintly and directed me to the first right after the yield sign.
That road led to the Keeter Center—a breathtaking lodge-style building made of massive hand-hewn logs and stone. Its grand timber beams, high vaulted ceilings, and huge stone fireplace feel straight out of a national park lodge. The design pays tribute to Dobyns Hall, the college’s original 1915 log building that burned down decades ago. Today the Keeter Center serves as a hotel, restaurant, and learning space where students work as part of their education.
According to their brochure, the College of the Ozarks, located at Point Lookout just south of Branson, is unlike any college I’ve ever visited. It was founded back in 1906 with a simple but powerful mission—to give students of strong character and limited means a chance at higher education. It actually started out as a high school called the School of the Ozarks, meant for kids from rural areas who couldn’t otherwise afford to go to school. Over the years it grew into a full liberal arts college but kept its original idea that students should work for their education instead of paying tuition.
They call it “Hard Work U,” and the name fits. Every student has a campus job—farming, carpentry, hospitality, administration—and they graduate debt-free. The college weaves faith, patriotism, and character into everything they do, creating a real sense of purpose and pride on campus. The school’s been through a lot—fires, the Depression, the ups and downs of modern education—but it’s held firm to its values, even refusing government funding and relying on donations to stay independent. Today it’s best known for its beautiful Keeter Center, the student-run farm and creamery, and for shaping young people who embody self-reliance, hard work, and integrity.
Inside, I found the college creamery. A student greeted me with a courteous, “Sir, how may I help you?”—and every sentence that followed included “sir” as well. It dawned on me that this politeness was part of their training. They sold gelato rather than ice cream, which was fine by me. Gelato, after all, has less fat, is served warmer, and is churned more slowly, giving it a denser, richer flavor. Mine was double chocolate—delicious, if slightly icy—so I let it melt a bit before diving in.
Sitting there, I couldn’t help noticing the gentle kindness in the air. Conversations were peppered with phrases like “Have a blessed day” and “The Lord’s grace be with you.” It wasn’t overbearing—just genuine. People smiled easily, couples held hands, and everyone seemed content. It was hard not to feel a sense of calm settle in.
In one of the connected halls, there’s a small room dedicated to former students who went on to serve their country with distinction. The walls are lined with photographs, medals, and personal stories—a quiet but powerful reminder of the college’s deep commitment to faith, character, and patriotism. That tradition runs so strong here that even President George W. Bush visited the campus after leaving office to honor veterans during a special ceremony. It’s the kind of place where service isn’t just remembered—it’s woven into the identity of the school itself.
Eventually, I headed into Branson proper—a place my mother loved. I remember her stories about the “Branson Show Extravaganza” bus tour from Pennsylvania and how much joy it brought her. Downtown Branson was bustling, decorated beautifully for autumn with hay bales, pumpkins, and orange garlands. I wanted to walk and take photos, but daylight was fading, and I still had miles to go before reaching the Ozark National Scenic Riverways, tomorrow’s destination.
With one of my apps, I found directions to a quiet clearing in Mark Twain National Forest. The GPS coordinates were off by about half a mile, and a fallen tree blocked the road where I was supposed to go. Luckily, a small opening in the forest appeared just ahead—wide enough to tuck the van in for the night. I couldn’t believe it when Starlink connected at nearly 90 Mbps despite the dense canopy above. It was the perfect mix of isolation and connection—a fitting end to a day that wandered its own scenic route.