Back to the Interstate

Another cold one last night: 29 degrees.  It will be good to get “below the weather”, as one guide put it, and wake up to warmer floors.  Bare feet, and even wearing socks, on the floor almost makes the feet ache.  I guess that’s the price of living in a tin can.

Beautifully clear day, however and we decided to take a hike to the former town of Rocky Spring, about a mile from the campground.

The hike led through nearly a mile of the old trace, a section that had been worn into a deep depression from all the traffic that had passed through it.  This was a delightful hike, probably in contrast to centuries ago, when people slogged through this area in the heat and bad weather, some people even coming through here against their will (slaves).  The dappled early morning sunshine belied the hardship that so many had seen here.

The only hardship I experienced was tripping over a root hidden under the carpet of leaves.

A couple signs along this path pointed out some facts about the Natchez Trace, one of them encouraging visitors to walk down the shaded trail -- leave your prints in the dust, not for others to see, but for the road to remember.

​What rubbish.  Feel-good nonsense.​  Maybe I will just ignore the signs and enjoy the day.

Rocky Springs, a town that once boasted a population of 2600, is completely gone save for a church, a cemetery, two old safes, and a couple of cisterns.  The church is still in use once a month, so it is maintained.  All the rest is left for the elements to deal with.

Can’t really linger here too long, we have many miles to go.  Back on the Parkway, heading south.  Our last stop was at Emerald Mounds, the second largest ceremonial mound in the United States, second only to one in Illinois.  This mound is 8 acres in size, with some additional mounds on top; hard to imagine building this with digging sticks and baskets.

Flying a drone in National Park area is prohibited and taking a picture of an 8-acre pile of dirt from the ground is not possible, so I lifted this picture from the National Park web site.

It was rather sad to leave the parkway.  That was some of the most pleasant driving I have ever experienced.  Traffic was nil, the road surface was pristine, the scenery was amazing.  Now it’s back to traffic and interstates and busy and crowded.  Uggh.

We arrived in Natchez just before noon.  While driving Deb was looking up some information on some of the southern mansions in the area.  Many have been converted to bed and breakfasts, and some of them even serve lunch.

Lunch, wouldn’t that be fun?

She found one that looked good.  Stanton Hall.  A massive Antebellum mansion that occupies an entire two-acre block in Natchez.  The cotton industry must have been good for Mr. Stanton.  Built in the 1850s, it is one of the most opulent antebellum mansions to survive in the southeastern United States.  And the carriage house is a restaurant serving lunch from 11 to 2.  Perfect.

We parked the RV two blocks away in a funeral home parking lot.  The streets are very narrow and all one-way.  Piloting even a small RV through this is a bit of a challenge.  When we got to the carriage house, the hours were on the door and the door was open, but nobody appeared to be home.  We entered and found a whole bunch of tables in a side room all set up for eating, a front desk with a cash register, and a serving line, with lots of serving trays, all empty.  Dolly Parton played rather loudly on the radio.  But the place was deserted.

We walked across the patio to the gift shop and asked the clerk about this.  Apparently, today the local Kiwanis club was having lunch there, so it was not open to the public.

Just our luck.  Arrive on the one day that had a private event.  We got back in the RV and headed to another destination: the Natchez National Historical Park, featuring the Melrose Estate, one of the best preserved estates in the Deep South from the mid-1800s.  Another estate, built on the fortunes of the cotton industry, and also on the backs of hundreds of enslaved people.

On the way we happened by Forks of the Road Historical Site. Today it is just a grassy area with a few display signs, but in the 19th century, thousands of men, women and children were brought in chains to this location, the second busiest slave trading market in the Deep South.  A sad chapter in American history.

We crossed the bridge over the Mississippi River and drove for another few hours, finally ending up at a Cracker Barrel in Beaumont, Texas.  Considerably noisier than last night.  Contrast the dull roar of nearby Interstate 10 to the complete silence of the Rocky Springs campground.  Quite the difference.

311 Miles driven today, 1316 miles total so far.

Progress so far on the map: