Sep 01 Day 12 - The Old Spanish Trail - Jackson, MS

OMG, I can't believe it, I had biscuits & gravy again this morning! What's happening to me, what about oatmeal and all that other healthy stuff? I wonder if I'm beginning to affect a southern drawl? Will hound dogs start hanging around me?

Alright, on to the bike stuff. I'm about ready for new tires so I called Skinner's Motorcycles in Auburn, AL and talked with the owner John Skinner. I told him what I needed and he agreed to get the tires and install them on Friday, Sept 4th. He came highly recommended by one of the members on the Triumph Rat forum ( yes, rat, don't ask me why) 

Boy you can sure tell I don't corner very hard. Maybe I should just buy the center strip?

The frugal part of me wants to keep the front tire but I may as well do both

With that settled I could get back to meandering towards his location. I've got three whole days to get there so I'll be riding real slow. Or stopping for longer periods, maybe take power naps hunched over the handlebars.. 

I poked along after leaving the hotel and headed north towards Mississippi. Isn't that a great name? I'll bet every kid in America can spell it by the time they're in first grade.

Do  I look thinner when I raise my arms? No? So who cares, not me.

The first tourist trap of the day got me early on, I just had to learn all I could about the West Feliciana Railroad. I chatted with the guy inside the station and his entire dissertation (like that word?) took all of 30 seconds. "I dunno, I think it was a train (thank God he didn't say choo-choo) that hauled cotton way back in time. Would you like a map of Mississippi?"

I'm beginning to like tourist information stops, they give you free stuff

This is the station. No train. No tracks. Nada. Not even a Choo-choo.....

With the train history lesson out of the way I moved on to more interesting stuff, like stopping to visit the local cracklin' business "Praise Da Lard". Who could resist? I barged in and asked the proprietor lady what the heck cracklins were. She gave me a fairly graphic description of the exact area of the pig they're made from and pointed out what each of the cracklins were preferred by some customers, etc, etc. I hesitated a bit before buying a bag. 

See this? This used to be your money cowboy, now it's mine!

Men are so easy, they'll buy anything. Pork bellies fried in grease.. My God.

I nearly missed the significance of the small white price list. For those who failed math 101

Did I mention how delicious these things are? How do you feel about Spandex?

Since I was already in Woodville I figured I might as well take in the sights, explore a little. It turned out there's a ton of old stuff to see and my first impression that the town was small was way off. I got lost. I rode around the back streets for nearly an hour just taking in the aura of everything, it's the quintessential Old South. You can just feel the Civil War, slavery, Southern life that used to be but is no more.

Some important people lived here when our nation was young

City Hall

The African American Museum didn't appear to be open. Ever.

This old water tower is completely overgrown with vines

But check out all the old TV antennas

Imagine reading their oldest issues, what stories they would have

One of the many back streets I rode through

It's great that they're trying to preserve little shops like this

Towns like Woodville can hold my attention all day long but it was time to move on. I'd decided one of the things I wanted to see was the Natchez Trace. I stopped for lunch at Burger King in the town, uh, no, the "Corp" of Natchez. Prior to lunch I'd spent a fair amount of time trying to locate the entrance using my GPS. Wrong. Wrongo wrongo wrong! Stupid GPS. I finally cornered a couple of non-firemen guys and asked for directions which I got without any sniggering or evil laughter. Mississippi guys are the salt of the earth.

With my new-found wealth of directions "Ya'll ride past the Walmart and just beyond that, oh I don' know, mebby a couple hunert yards on the right you'll see an exit to an underpass. Take thet and it'll getya right there. I like yer bike." And it was easy, no sweat. Who needs a GPS?

The Natchez Trace goes on for hundreds of miles across several states. The road is paved and well kept, the shoulders are mowed and lush, and frequent information signs beckon. The posted speed limit of 50 mph seems to be well adhered to and makes for a relaxing visit. My trip would encompass nearly 100 miles and I saw few other vehicles or bikes. 

I've no idea. None whatsoever.

This pretty well spells it out

One of the many interesting stops

Typical of what you drive through

 It began to rain so I pulled into a rest stop to drag out the gear. Two gals rode in behind me for the same reason. Their rain gear was nothing more than plastic ponchos. Must have been real flappy in the wind. They both live in Jackson and ride on the trace a lot.

I wonder if there's any booze left in this?

Outta my way!!!

 I looked for another La Quinta but none were close by so I opted for Best Western. Dinner would be Cracklins and Gatorade, manly food fit for those who brave the open road.

Home

The nice people running the motel told me I could park under the front portico (or whatever the heck they're called) so I did. Before I can cover the bike I have to wait a few minutes for the exhaust pipes to cool down - don't want to melt the cover. 

I went to my room to unpack and within a few minutes the front desk lady called to ask if I had a bike cover as it was raining buckets. By the time I got out for a look the Bonnie was drenched and it made little sense to bother with a cover. Might even clean some of the grit off, even a bug or two.

A clean bike is a happy bike, eh?

Today was a hoot, I had lots of fun riding around through small towns and getting a feel for how some of the folks live. Maybe I'll get lucky and tomorrow will be the same.

LL

Aug 31 Day 11 - The Old Spanish Trail - Baton Rouge, LA

I've come to realize the Old Spanish Trail Southern Borderland has most likely gone the way of the old wild west. To date I've not found much evidence it even existed, at least not compared to what you find for Route 66 or the Lincoln Highway. Even the Pony Express has a few signs up showing the way it went. I'm wondering if the northern version of the trail is better marked? That may have to be the subject for a later tour.

Anyway until this afternoon I'd never met anyone who'd even heard of the Southern Borderland part. Then I stopped at the Ben J. Rogers Regional Visitors Center and there I met a couple of nice ladies who knew of it. They gave me a map to the small mostly Hispanic neighborhood that still bears reference to it that's located just a few miles further on and sent me on my way with an ice-cold bottle of water. That's pretty darn nice I'd say.

You're totally lost aren't you? Have some water sweetie, try to relax.

Does the home know you're missing?

The short section of trail was supposedly just a few miles down the road that I was traveling on - US 10 - and  I was to watch for the College street exit. Try as I may I never caught sight of any mention of that on any of the exits I passed. I must have blown past it in the intense traffic without seeing it so I gave it up and continued on my way east. Buggers!

While all this was happening I noticed the sky was turning into a weird collage of colors and ominous clouds were beginning to form. From recent experiences I figured it was about to start raining really hard but I also wondered if my new el-cheapo sunglasses might be contributing to the colors? I stopped for a few minutes and dug out another pair with bright blue reflective type lenses and tried them out. The same weirdness continued but with a slightly different hue. 

Sometimes I am beyond cool. Sorta mysterious like. Eh? 

This is fun, re-entering a 75 mph traffic pattern from a short ramp-up. No sweat.

After spending more time then was necessary evaluating the effects different colored lenses might have on the atmosphere and clouds I stopped again, this time for lunch at McDonald's. This particular one had a real surprise treat on their menu, a sort of pseudo patty-melt with fried onions all nice and greasy just the way I like 'em. I expect their menu may be more regional driven since I've never seen this sandwich at home. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll start selling it in our area. Or maybe my body will get lucky and they won't.

After scarfing down my burger and most of the fries I again took note of the nasty looking skies. I talked to a couple of local firemen sitting at the next table and they chuckled (evil) and said "Y'all might be able to out run it if you hurry right along." More chuckles. More evil. I left. Outside I talked about it to a guy just getting out of his truck and he said more or less the same thing. Chuckle. Evil sniggers. These guys from Louisiana are a riot sometimes. 

Uh-oh....

What the heck I thought, I've got plenty of rain gear to wear. Only problem is, it's hotter'n all goto heck and muggy too. Back on the Bonnie I went sans rain gear but within a half-mile there it came, splat! Crimoney I wasn't looking forward to wearing non-breathable rain gear but getting soaked wasn't much fun either. 

I stopped in a convenient driveway apron of a really luxurious looking country home  and struggled into the outfit. It was then that I made an amazing discovery, the pants don't really have a front or back, you can wear them either way. No fly, no pockets, no zippers, nada. As I was hopping around getting dressed up I kinda half-way expected Farmer Brown to come charging out and chase me away from his driveway but no one came. Lucky me.

Getting back onto US-10 took a bit longer than expected due to some construction going on but I finally made it back into the craziness. Man there are a lot of trucks out there, and they all run 75 mph or faster. I only saw a couple of traffic cops and they had cars pulled over, never a truck. I'm not sure what that means but I thought I might mention it. 

Not long after that I crossed over into Louisiana, my first visit to the state. One of the most interesting things I've seen on this tour was the 19-mile long Atchafalaya Basin Bridge. Traffic was smoking along at a rate that prevented me from stopping for pics so I found a couple on the Internet. There can't be too many bridges that long, especially ones that are surrounded by alligators. 

Don't attempt to pronounce Atchafalaya more than a couple of times, you could hurt yourself. Or spray the person standing in front of  you with spittle.

Note to the owners of the following two photos: 
If you wish further acknowledgement or would like these removed please contact me and I will do so. 

Atchafalaya Basin Bridge as posted on Wikipedia - Photo by Mich Aelat

View from the bridge. Owner unknown. There be gators out there.

After bumping along in the ultra-hot-muggy traffic for awhile longer I decided I'd had enough freeway travel for the day and furthermore I think I'll do a bit more of meandering starting tomorrow. 

With that in mind I checked into another La Quinta, this one in Baton Rouge. Dinner will most likely be two Cliff Bars and my last Gatorade which should more than suffice considering the lunch I had at McDonald's. It's early yet, not even six o'clock local time which gives me plenty of time to watch a movie or two. Nice.

LL

Aug 30 Day 10 - The Old Spanish Trail - Winnie, TX

So where is Winnie, Texas one might ask? I'll get to that later, more towards the end of the post. Right now I'll begin with the morning breakfast routine at the crumby motel I stayed in. Actually it wasn't all that bad, it just seemed like it after experiencing a good breakfast yesterday. Even the instant oat meal was bland. Ugh.

My jeans and socks were dry enough to wear so I packed up and hit the road further south where I'd get to see the Gulf of Mexico. From Corpus Christie you really can't go a long way south as you'll run into the ocean so I went as far as I could and then turned north east. 

Corpus Christie has more oil and gas rigs and storage facilities than you can imagine. They go on for miles and frankly I got a little bored with them. I expected to see more of a military presence but that must have been in another direction as the only thing I saw was the Lexington aircraft carrier which is now a Naval museum. I rode down into the park area, eyeballed her and completely forgot to take any pics. That's too bad actually as she's loaded to the gills with aircraft that I recall from my own brief naval career.  

My first stop was at Aransas Pass where I watched fishermen doing their thing from shore or wading out into chest deep water. No one caught anything while I watched but a kid on a motor scooter stopped and looked the Bonnie and me over, probably thought I was broke down. As soon as he saw my camera he did a hasty exit back to the road. Must not have wanted to be in the book I'm writing.

This is the bridge I'd just crossed over when I stopped for pics

Does "Welcome Aboard" mean I'm allowed to climb on it?

It was still early Sunday morning so there weren't many people around yet

Before leaving the motel I'd dialed in Port Aransas on the GPS as a way point to visit and it took me way out on the end of a point, then I realized I was heading for a ferry out to a small island. The approach to the ferry was confusing, too many people in Hi-Viz vests waving Hi-Viz wands and I ended up riding up to the boarding point in the out lane instead of the in lane. Probably not a big deal as there were only a half dozen cars waiting. I bet lots of people do the same thing, right?

This is the way to the ferry. The blue sign had all sorts of meaningless information.

Anyway once I arrived at the loading area I asked the bearded toothless guy who seemed to be in charge of such things why there was a big arrow pointing at me instead of towards the ferry. His eyebrows moved up and down rapidly, then I think he realized he was dealing with a loony and smiled at the joke. I told him I didn't have a clue why I'd want to go for a ferry ride and after looking at my map he agreed and said I should turn around and proceed in the direction of the big arrow which would then show the way back from whence I came. Make sense? It did to me.

Another big 'ol oil thingy. There should be a limit on how many  of these are made.

Back on route again I was riding sort of northeast through a small but expensive looking area when I saw a sign directing unsuspecting travelers to Fulton Beach. I followed the little side street and sure enough I soon arrived at a small harbor complete with boats and large scary birds with pointy beaks and even a bait shack. 

 Nice fleet of boats here, expensive looking and probably not owned by the likes of me. That's OK, I have my own aluminum one at home resting in the barn in case I ever get involved in show & tell about boats. 

When I first spotted this guy I went into my stealthiest slow motion mode with camera held as inconspicuously ( my God I spelled that right the first time!) as possible. I took a shot, then moved closer, took another and moved again, etc, until I was only a few feet away from him. He finally grew weary of me, let out a squawk and flew a few feet away, landing on a post where he watched me with his beady eyes. 

I wouldn't want this joker to peck me. He must be the guard bird for the boat people.

The bait shack came with a sleepy looking guy sitting out front texting away on his phone. Or iPad or whatever it was. The sun was shining directly towards my shot so it's not the best but if you look closely you can see the bait guy sitting on the left side of the pic. He kind of reminded me of one of those Asian Kung Fu actors, the one with the weird eye that wandered a lot. I didn't interrupt his texting, no point in that as he'd probably want me to buy some sand shrimp.  

After visiting Fulton Harbor I'd had enough of the Gulf of Mexico so I figured I'd head back to the original mission, the Old Spanish Trail thing. Once I got away from the bay area and inland a ways the oil industry went away and was replaced by cotton fields. I didn't realize Texas was so involved in cotton but they seem to be and like so many things in Texas, they go at it in a large way.

I rode highway 35 northeast to get back on track..

Kinda makes you wanta shuck something doesn't it?

Cotton farms are easier on the eye than oil rigs. Just sayin'

I'd got off to a really early start this morning so I made good time all day. Around noon I stopped for a rest and slugged down more Gatorade. An hour or so later I decided to stop at a Walmart to buy some different sunglasses, ones with blue lenses if they had them. My regular ones have a slight brown tint and they tend to make everything look darker for some reason. Anyway I found two cheap pairs and they helped a lot.

My intended stopping point for the day was Beaumont as it's on my list of Old Spanish Trail cities but after getting keel hauled through Houston I was too beat to continue. My God Houston traffic is awful, you'd think those people would find something else to do on a Sunday other than drive like maniacs on the freeways but no, that's how they seem to spend their time. There were darn few bikes too, which is probably an indicator of how many riders really have a death wish.

Anyway I pulled the plug in the nicest little burg called Winnie with a great La Quinta motel and I'm done for the day. I'll hit the post button and then head for the Cajun eatery next door, see how much more torture my innards can tolerate for the day. Usually I edit my wondrous writing efforts but it's getting late and I don't want to miss dinner so you can send me hate mail if it's awful.

Adios.

LL

PS - I had fried catfish, coleslaw, hush puppies, & one frosty Corona for dinner. Marvelous!