Home ·· News Room ·· Prints ·· Licensing ·· Gallery ·· About Us ·· Contact Us ·· Articles ·· Services Mississippi, Alabama and Louisiana road trip report, January 1 to 8, 2007 Updated January 10, 2007 Page 2 of 5 Previous Page  Next page
	Mississippi/Alabama/Louisiana continued... Miles north, our first Cypress swamp at mile marker 122 appeared on the right side of the road. As the sky had hazed over a bit, the light rays danced through the strange looking stand of cypress, surrounded by placid waters coated with a bright green layer of plant life. Other than an occasional car passing, the swamp was deathly silent, with not one bird chirping. Leaving our cheery little swamp, we found some Indian mounds near Yockanookany for a dose of 1,000 year old history. The mound itself isn't remarkable in the landscape, other than looking like an out of place goose bump in the thin, leafy forest. A recorded talking box invited the press of a button, rewarding the visitor with a narrative of the history of the mound. The speech was loud enough to fill the quiet air, allowing me to walk around the mound with an unpaid tour guide accompanying me the whole time, echoing off the trees. This particular mound is actually made up of two or three individual mounds, slowly merged over time. As you can imagine at this rate, our average speed heading north was a crawling 20mph even though we were driving 50mph. We covered a paltry 150 miles in eight hours. This is not a place to drive fast through. There are virtual beavers living along the Natchez Trace at Myrick Creek, mile 145. An entire stop is dedicated to the beavers with a 10 minute walking path, information kiosk and the right landscape for beavers. Just not one beaver, chewed tree stomp with a conical top to say beavers actually lived in the area. Mildly dejected, for my hopes of seeing a beaver were dashed, we continued our way. The information center at Kosciusko at mile 160 was cloned like everything else along the way, out of season. There was an Egyptian-American cotton bail weighing 500 pounds sitting on the porch, defending the door. Watching the strongest man competition last night where huge guys carried 500 pounds in anvils made me imagine how impossible it would be for me to move such a monster of fluff. The bail measured 5' x 3' x 2'. Cotton farmers cut production and they moved to other crops, as cotton is $0.60 a pound and yet a nice cotton shirt costs $100. Maybe Pima cotton ruined it all? Stopping at a gas station in Jeff Busby, we talked with a nice young lady with the prettiest Mississippian accent you've ever heard. Diligently working on her home schooling, she only took a moment to chat, ring up our purchase, be completely courteous the whole time and get back to work. Past the gas station, we drove on into the afternoon, toward Tupelo, the birthplace of Elvis Aaron Presley. As we came into town, we had to make a departure from the Natchez Trace Parkway. On entering town, we fueled up at a Texaco and I got directions to Elvis's birth home from a nice old guy. Junior (the station attendant) told me of how the town's people of Tupelo treated Elvis "real bad like" because Elvis hung out with the blacks in town, learning to sing and dance from them. When Elvis tried to sing on the town radio station after he "got good, Mr. Henry, the station manager, told Elvis you better get your guitar and yourself and get out of here right quick." Junior, with nearly a full set of crafted gold front teeth, shared how he drove the cars to be given away, when Elvis returned to Tupelo after he became the King of Rock and Roll, as prizes for the show Elvis put on. Junior was in the stylized poster from those series of concerts, too. Much to Junior's unbelievably friendly but never the less smug satisfaction, Elvis also let everyone how the station manager had treated him so many years before. The battlefield of Tupelo isn't much to see: a little grass, two cannons, a memorial marker and a battle narrative. Unless you are a Civil War junkie, don't bother. You'll park in a Prudential Realty parking lot to visit. The birthplace of Elvis Presley is on the edge of town, just past the new city hall. The museum was being renovated, opening on January 8th for Presley's birthday -- a fitting date. At $6 each to get into the house, it's a bit steep but since we've come this far, it would be dumb not to. Eloise, the docent inside the two room house, who has five kids, nine grandkids and eight great-grand kids was a font of information. She taught us about chitlins (good with beer although she never had any), something I have yet to figure out. It's something from the back of a pig and later found out that they are pig skins (or chicharones). We learned how the Presley family lost that house and how Elvis bought it back when he returned. How Elvis and his still born brother were both born in the corner where the bed is and how people at that time used to have "...one pair of shoes bought by their grand dad once a year and how you'd be barefoot if you didn't take good care of them." Eloise gave us the great suggestion of eating at BBQ by Jim, an excellent friendly place to get food. As usual, we didn't quite have the directions down proper so we had to wander the earth. If you head back toward town and turn right at the new city hall, just go pass the bus terminal labeled "BUS". A nice lady and her son with mounted Elk on the walls will direct you to choose the meat plate with beans, so slather on the BBQ sauce, provided on their square tables, and stuff yourself silly. Pork and friendly company with a southern Mississippi drawl was never better. We caught the highway back to the Natchez Trace Parkway and finally found the main visitors center. Amazingly, it was open, a rare thing in our short experience. After viewing the short video of the history and construction of the 444 mile road, we learned what a special thing we had been traveling on for the past two days. Completed in 2005, this baby new road encompasses thousands of years of history and trade, the link between Nashville and Natchez, leading to New Orleans. Now, after seeing some of the things we were going to miss, as the sun was going down, we had to cut across to Alabama. We both developed a much greater appreciation for the road we traveled, as it is designed to give you a taste of how it once was without the inconveniences of horses and murderous bandits. As we headed up the Natchez Trace Parkway, we enjoyed the full moon rising, partially shrouded by Cirrus clouds cast pink by the setting sun behind us, almost making us depressed to leave the Parkway. We had planned to visit Florence to see a Frank Lloyd Wright house but it was already dark and we had 2.5 hours to drive to Huntsville. As we entered Huntsville, we searched down the visitor's center, all without map or directions mind you, only to find the place closed. We passed the Huntsville Rocket and Science Center at the NASA Marshall Flight Center. The Saturn V rocket is huge. It is wild to see at night. I can't wait to see it tomorrow. We found a motel 6 in Madison, just west of Huntsville off the I-565 and went over to a Chinese place to get some vegetables in the diet. The young lady server originally from Hong Kong was going to the University of Huntsville for a mechanical engineering degree. She was told by her classmates that the big cities in America demanded great attention and people spoke fast. We assured her that big city folk don't have small town people for lunch. Finally, sleep arrived after this adventurous day. Thursday, January 4, 2007 We headed over to Waffle King this time for pecan waffles smothered in strawberries and whipped cream. Not too shabby! Alf learned his lesson and chose the pecan waffle this time. We cruised over to the Space and Rocket Center. Out front, the SR-71 Blackbird sits for visitors to get a close up and personal look. That aircraft has some strange lines. The museum was $20 and unfortunately the IMAX was out of service. But, it was just as well since we spent past noon there, much longer than we had planned. Seeing, touching and feeling the Saturn V, it's massive F-1 and J-2 assist engines as well as the shuttle engine was well worth it. It was also neat because the shell of the cone is made out of packed tubes instead of a hard shell, maybe only an inch thick liquid hydrogen is then piped through those tubes to keep the 5,000 degree temperatures at bay -- wow! We spent some time walking around the Saturn V laying along the ground, the Redstone and Skylab (huge!) and the Shuttle Pathfinder. The history of American rockets developed right here and we got to touch and look at those powerful machines. Alf and I failed the piloting the shuttle simulation and crashed every time. It's great to have an ego and have it stomped every so often. Alf's shoulder and neck was bothering him only a little, so he had the misfortune of being ballast on the Slingshot ride which shoots you up into the sky. He was doing okay before that, but then it was pain all over again. Driving down the I-65 to Birmingham wasn't very exciting. Rain was threatening but held off, so we took advantage and drove up to the famous Vulcan statue, a 50 foot iron statue of the Roman god Vulcan at the top of a 170 foot stone tower. We almost made it up 1/3 of the tower stairs before being called out by the docents...apparently you have to pay. We toured the museum of Birmingham, the industrial Pittsburg of the South. Alf didn't like walking on the open grating on top of the tower, looking straight down 150 feet to the ground. It'll give you sweaty palms if you hate heights. It was a great view of Birmingham, though. Being short on time, we tore over to the Civil Rights Institute on the north side of the tracks. Things were a little poorer on that side of town. With the student ID, we saved good enough money to enjoy visiting the Civil Rights Institute and tour around the exhibits, photos, sculptures and displays. It is well worth seeing, just to get an idea of how recent all these events were, just on the cusp of our lifetime. It is a good but sad reminder. Previous Page  Next page
	This site Copyright © 2000-2007 Aaron Linsdau, all rights reserved.