Heading North

We have seen all the places in Florida we wanted to see this trip. It is time to work our way back home. We still have a number of stops we want to make on the way. One of the first is Ouzts Too. That is a country bar and restaurant in the woods at the beginning of the panhandle. Think Florida cracker bar, and you would be pretty close. We learned about this place last year from other campers. It specializes in fresh oysters, Jean’s favorite. So we had to check it out and were not disappointed.

We arrived on a Sunday afternoon to discover that they have live music on Sunday. The joint was jumping. Cars and motorcycles filled the parking area and spilled over down the road.

 

We plunged in anyway and found that the music was outside. Inside there were tables available.

So Jean got her oysters. I had hoped for mullet, but they were out, so I just had chicken. A pleasant time all around. After eating, we checked in at the nearby campground.

We needed to top up the water and dump the sewage. Next day, while I was dumping, a man asked me the way to Wakulla Springs. I thought that sounded vaguely familiar, so I gave him directions to the area south of the Big Bend where there were a lot of springs. After we left, I discovered that my directions were 100% wrong; Wakulla Springs was just down the road a short distance in the other direction. I became one of the statistics that I claim: that when you ask for directions, half the time they are wrong.

We stayed in a small campground a few miles west of Panama City. Next day, we got to our first beach on the panhandle (we didn’t try Panama City Beach). That is Carrabelle Beach. This is the only beach I know of where the trash cans are bear-proof.

 That is because it is right next to Tate’s Hell State Forest. The weather was overcast, chilly, and windy. There were very few people on the beach.

 We walked a short distance down the beach but didn’t find any shells. However, we were treated to a small pod of dolphins cruising just beyond the breakers.

Our course to the west took us through Mexico Beach. When we passed that way last year, we remarked that it looked like a good place to retire. Then Michael happened. We started seeing destruction at Port St. Joe, ten miles to the east. Mexico Beach wasn’t as destroyed as the reports led us to believe. It was still seriously damaged. There were houses missing, or smashed. There were piles of rubble everywhere. The surrounding forests were heavily damaged, with most of the pines snapped off about ten feet up. This picture is not of the seriously damaged parts.

As an illustration of the fact that hurricanes are circular storms, the trees as we approached were all knocked down in one direction, and several miles later they were all down in the other direction.

We were looking forward to Destin. This is a popular beach because of the incredible white sand. It was a chilly day, so we were able to find parking right at the beach. The first thing we noticed was a row of chairs and umbrellas. These are available for rent.

It was a mostly sunny day, with plenty of wind. There were several people out, but probably not as many as if it were warmer. Looking down the beach, you can see the mist blown off the Gulf by the wind.

We walked a way down the beach. We found no shells, just cigarette butts and assorted trash, as well as two dead birds. There were a few shore birds, but not many. Perhaps the popularity of the beach with people keeps them away.

We had looked forward to this beach, so we were quite disappointed. This is a very popular area, as shown by the big condos along the beach road.

We ended up walking along the boardwalk instead. At the end of the boardwalk, Jean spotted something out in the water (there were no people in the water). I managed to get a picture of it, but we have no idea what it is.

So we pressed on, out of Florida. On the way out, I managed to get an appointment with the Mercedes Benz dealer in Pensacola. I had been getting a persistent “High Oil” warning light and I wanted them to look at it.

We had another person to visit. Jean‘s old friend Helen lives in Foley, just across the line in Alabama. We spent the night in a campground in Foley, and connected with her the next morning. After lunch, I took the rig in to Pensacola. The people at Mercedes were able to pull out about a quart-and-a-half of excess oil. I will have to have a conversation with the people who do my oil changes.

Then back to Foley to the Walmart to have a couple of prescriptions filled. There was some confusion, and it took most of the rest of the afternoon, but it eventually got straightened out.

The next day, Helen took us to a couple of local attractions. Foley has a nice town square.

 In the square is a building that houses an amazing model train layout.

 

Gene, being the big kid that he is, was fascinated. They were running several different trains, including a Tommy the Tank Engine.

Gene was fascinated by a long steam engine that had two sets of drivers — articulated to ease it around bends.

In the middle they have a small, turn-of-the-century, Midwestern town. It is complete with a town park that has a tiny model train of its own running around in it.

Some drama is added by having a fire in the fireworks factory.

        

They even have a woods with a still set up in it. They tell the story that the owner of the still brought in a bear to protect it. Here the bear has treed a “revinooer.”

Our next stop was a local history museum, that Helen hadn’t seen yet. There she ran into an old friend. The museum is very large with an extensive collection. Part of the fun of such a place for us old folks is seeing familiar objects that we haven’t seen in years (and maybe owned once). Following that I was prevailed upon to get a haircut. Then back to the apartment, where we had supper and talked and watched television until it was cool enough to go out to the motorhome, where we didn’t have power to run the air conditioner.

Next morning, we headed west for Natchez. Hiway 98, which we had been on since the Big Bend in Florida, runs straight through mostly flat (at first) country. What few towns there are seem to be off the main road. Hattiesburg was the biggest town, and we only got the edge of that.

Jean got us a camp site at a state park by a lake. There were signs that said “Beware of Alligator.” It was quite warm, but since we were hooked up to electricity, we could run the air conditioning. It was quite chilly by morning.

Next day (Saturday — we lose track sometimes) it was very windy, cold, and with occasional rain. It cleared somewhat as we approached Natchez. Eventually we found the excellent Visitor’s Center. They provided us with good information and materials. They even told us where we could get propane nearby. We spent some time watching the weather channel on television. We were in the path of a cold front, with strong winds, rain, and possible tornadoes. The Visitor’s Center provides overnight parking for RVs — with electricity. The parking was a somewhat off level, but you can’t beat the price. In fact, we were most appreciative, not being eager to find a campground on a Saturday in bad weather. One of the other campers learned that the area has very loud tornado sirens, and that the bathrooms in the substantial building would not be closed in case the sirens went off.

No tornadoes, and by morning things had calmed down a little (still cold and some wind). We got information on where to get a hot breakfast, and headed out. After breakfast, we topped up the fuel, got a few essentials at a Walmart, and were ready for the Natchez Trace by noon.

The Natchez Trace is an ancient trail through Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee. Farmers in the Kentucky and Ohio area would send their produce and goods down the rivers to Natchez and New Orleans by flatboat. Then they would sell both cargo and boat, and walk back home along the Trace. These travelers were called “Kaintucks,” whether they came from Kentucky or not.

The Natchez Trace Parkway is a beautiful drive, even on a cold, overcast day. The road is smooth and level, and winds through lush woods. Occasionally, a farm butts up next to the road, but otherwise it doesn’t look too different from when it was in the main route up the east side of the Mississippi’

We stopped at several points of interest. Mount Locust Inn and Plantation is the first place a traveler would come to after leaving Natchez. It is the only surviving “stand,” or traveler accommodation on the old route. It was a cotton plantation that also provided shelter for travelers on the Trace.

It looks very inviting to relax on the veranda.

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Going back to a much earlier time, we took a short side trip to see Emerald Mound. This is the second largest Indian mound in the country. Only the Monk’s Mound, in Cahokia, IL, is bigger, (and it is bigger than the pyramids in Egypt).

It becomes very impressive when you climb it and look down on the motorhome below. We also walked through the Sunken Trace, a place where the heavy traffic wore the path down below grade. It was rough and muddy, a good example of the kind of place travelers had to deal with.

Toward the end of the afternoon, we followed the guide we got in Natchez to a campground in Clinton, MS, at about milepost 89, to finish the first day on the Trace, happy and content.

We needed to do laundry and other tasks, so we spent the day in Clinton. We had some time so we went to see downtown Clinton. It is a typical small Southern town, with brick streets and brick and stone sidewalks.

There are several bicycles mounted beside the road like sculptures.

After walking around downtown, we went in to an antique store to look around. This place turned out to be like a maze. You go into a small room and look around. Then there is a door to another small room, which has a door to another room, until it seemed like it would never end.

Back on the Trace, there was some traffic around Jackson, but things eventually settled down again. For the most part, the Natchez Trace Parkway consisted of a smooth road winding among trees and meadows. Since it was spring, the wide shoulders were often blanketed in wildflowers, blue, yellow, and crimson. In the southern part we also saw a lot of thistle.

The Parkway follows roughly the route of the original Trace. From time to time, sections of the Old Trace are accessible from parkway pull-offs.

At one point the trace passes thirteen graves of unknown Confederate soldiers. The grave stones are all covered in coins, mostly pennies. We have no idea why, but all the gravestones were so covered.

Travelers on the Trace had to deal with a wide range of conditions. They didn’t have the advantage of board walkways through the swamps.

Here in Mississippi we saw more alligators than we did in Florida.

As the parkway continues north, it gets into hilly country, eventually approaching the Appalachian Mountains. Near the north end is the site of Merriwether Lewis’ grave and monument. He was on his way to Washington to edit the journals of the famous trip. He stopped at Grinder’s stand for the night. During the night, people heard two gunshots, and found his body. It has never been determined whether he was murdered or committed suicide (he was dealing with lots of problems).

Someone had stuck a tiny toy in the monument

We continued on after the Lewis monument, but that is near the northern end of the parkway. After three days on the parkway, we left two miles before then end, and got on the road to Gene’s brother’s house in eastern Tennessee. The weather forecast for the last, short leg home is really ugly, so we will hunker down for a day. Presumably, we will have good weather for the ride home tomorrow. That will finish a trip of forty days, and about 3800 miles. Time to settle down for a while.