Wednesday, 1 January 2020
And Happy New Year to all!
And Happy New Decade!
Thoughts in last night's campground
I unwillingly participated last night in all the New Year's Eve celebrations in the neighborhood of the campground. The fireworks started soon after dark - I was hearing them regularly by 8:00 PM, got really intense at midnight, and then went on for well over an hour after that. Gracie, of course, was terrified and buried herself in the bathroom, and none of the rest of us could sleep. I'm glad fireworks are common for only 2 holidays a year, because it's impossible to get away from the sound of them.
On the plus side, I saw a whole flock of Bluebirds here in the campground this morning. Also a vast supply of mistletoe in some of the trees.
I keep forgetting to mention the red dirt/mud I started seeing as I got to southern Alabama. It's especially noticeable in this campground because so few of the roads are paved, and the unpaved ones are so rutted. Reminds me of that wonderful movie My Cousin Vinny that I saw when I was learning courtroom procedure in law school.
In the last few states, I've been buying the Vital Farms brand of eggs, which claims to be providing eggs from chickens that forage in actual grassy areas. In the latest batch of eggs, they included Holiday Tips from their "girls on grass" and their "routine that brings them joy." And here they are:
1. Eat healthy. When foraging or grazing, choose real food - as close to nature as possible.
2. Exercise. It's amazing what a walk outside can do for your mind (and body).
3. Get a good night's sleep.
4. Take some time to care for yourself. If dust baths aren't your thing, a bubble bath might do the trick.
5. Live in the moment.
Good advice.
I got a call yesterday from my next campground, telling me that their office (it's a state park) would be closed today when I get there, that check-in isn't until 4 PM, and that the person staying there now doesn't have to leave until 2 PM. This was actually a message on my voice mail, and I got no answer when I called back in the afternoon - they probably left early on New Year's Eve. I wanted to ask about the weather report I'd heard that there's a flood warning for some river in the area. But since she didn't seem to think there was any reason why I wouldn't show up, I assumed the flood threat isn't too serious right now.
Because I might not be able to get into my campsite until 2 PM, and that campground is only a couple of hours away from this one, I decided to stay here longer and make Hoppin' John, thinking there might not be time later and wanting to be sure I got my black-eyed peas quota today. Actually, it's only an adaptation from other recipes I found, but I really like it and it makes a good black-eyed pea delivery system. After the pot had cooled down a bit, I wedged it into the sink for transporting to Mississippi. That's worked for me before.
And because I still had plenty of time, I decided to take a route that would let me go along some of the western Alabama coastline, and I'm glad I did as it's completely different from the predominately tourist/beach atmosphere on the eastern side.
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| today's route |
I passed the turn for Bellingrath Gardens and Home. Momma and I went down there once to see the gardens but decided not to when we found out how much they charged as an entrance fee. It's $14 to see the gardens without the house, and there are 65 acres of gardens, but at the time Momma was beginning to have mobility problems and, even with a wheelchair, we knew it wouldn't be worth the entrance fee to us - $28 for the 2 of us, after all. But sometime I'd like to see them. Mr. Bellingrath was one of the first bottlers of Coca-Cola in the Southeast, so you can see where he made his fortune. Apparently, this is what he and his wife spent it on.
I passed a sign for the Estuarium on Dauphin Island. In the first place, I hadn't realized there's a road I could drive to get to Dauphin Island - I didn't bother to try to go there because I assumed, incorrectly, it needed a ferry trip. And in the second place, I've never heard of an estuarium, let alone this one. But it sounds interesting and I'd like to go when I come back this way. For $10 (seniors) I could see many different aquariums that exhibit the plants and animals of the 4 main habitats of the Alabama coast. I think that'd be really interesting.
I passed another sign for a Dauphin Island attraction, this one historic Ft. Gaines. This was the site of a major Civil War battle, and where Adm. Farragut supposedly said, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead." The full story, which is a lot more interesting than I'd expected, is at this link. https://en.wikipedia.org/Battle-of-Mobile-Bay
I turned right on Rt. 188 and found myself back on the Alabama Coastal Connection, also an Alabama Scenic Byway.
The road took me first through the tiny town of Coden and, without much pause, through Bayou La Batre, which calls itself the Seafood Capital of Alabama. Both these towns are quite clearly fishing communities, based on the front yards strewn with fishing nets, the harbors full of various types of fishing boats, and the multiple businesses related to fishing: selling fishing equipment, boats, and the end products of oysters, shrimp and mullet, for instance.
These are also extremely religious communities, based on the stunning numbers of churches (given the combined population of less than 3,000), the multiple yard signs saying things like "Prepare to meet Thy God" and "Keep watch for you do not know the day or the hour." A billboard advertising a heating and electric business mostly said, "Is Jesus on your mind?" The local gym is named Rocky's Gym of Faith. I never in my life saw such a hotbed of religious fervor, and I grew up in the South.
I passed a yard with a homemade sign: Satsumas for Sale, and containers of oranges sitting out. I wondered if they'd just bought them at a Mobile grocery store, but I now know that Satsumas grow quite well in southern Alabama. That town of Satsuma (Safest City in Alabama) near the campground with the problem dogs was named for these oranges, which used to be the dominant crop in the area until the Depression. They're starting to make a comeback, though, on both sides of Mobile Bay. One of the perks of coming to Alabama this time of year.
I was surprised to see a watermelon drawn on the water tower for the town of Grand Bay. Turns out that's an important local crop, celebrated by a Watermelon Festival every July.
And then I was crossing the state line.
Welcome to Mississippi - Birthplace of America's Music!
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| Mississippi - my 22nd state |
I drove on I-10 across that lower projection of the state, that bends around Louisiana to the Gulf, and saw the message the DMV'd posted on the highway's electronic signs:
Greens for money.
Peas for luck.
Seat belts for life.
Not a problem for me because I have to wear my seat belt or I'd be driven crazy by the dinging warning bell in this vehicle. I always eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day for luck (though can't ever seem to get an entire year's worth). And since my Momma was from Rhode Island, I didn't grow up eating greens and don't know how to cook them so will just have to make do with the income I've got. Though some day I want to learn, greens being good for more than just money hopes.
This area of Mississippi is crowded (it seems) with casinos, which vie for stars to pull crowds in. I saw signs advertising Engelbert Humperdinck (did you know he's still touring?) appearing at one on January 18th, and Herman's Hermits starring Peter Noone appearing January 3rd at another - or maybe the same one - I didn't look.
This section of I-10 skates by a number of towns without showing any of them to the great driving public. I passed the turnoffs for Pascagoula, Gautier, Ocean Springs, D'Iberville, Biloxi, Gulfport, Long Beach, Pass Christian, De Lisle, Bay St. Louis, and Waveland, which is where I was headed.
I passed the turnoff for Beauvoir, the home of Jefferson Davis. Momma and I stopped there once, and since I visited the home of his youth in Kentucky, I doubt if I'll stop at Beauvoir again. Despite the information I found in Kentucky, my opinion of this man just isn't very high, if for no other reason than he was furious with Gen. Lee for surrendering and refused to acknowledge that his lost cause was lost. He was apparently plenty willing to send more Southern boys out to be killed, even after that result was certain. Not my idea of a leader.
I passed the turnoff for the Sandhill Crane Wildlife Refuge and learned some interesting facts about their work when I looked them up. This refuge was established in 1975 to protect the Mississippi Sandhill Crane population, which at that time was so endangered it had only about 30 birds left. The problem was their disappearing habitat, which is also being protected from development by this refuge. That unique habitat is described as wet pine savannah, and there's less than 5% left of the acreage that was originally there before humans decided to improve it.
In addition, this is one of only 2 major staging areas for spring and fall migrations of the eastern population of Sandhill Cranes, the other being in the area of Jasper, IN. This refuge has been working diligently since it was established and estimates the number of cranes to be up to 100 - definitely not many but more than 3 times what it was when they started.
For many miles in this area, the roadway is elevated because of going over wetlands and many streams and other bodies of water. Like one very long, low bridge. And the land is absolutely flat, all along the road. Quite a change from Alabama, though it may get hillier when I go farther north.
Waveland, The Hospitality City, was completely destroyed when it was "ground zero" for Hurricane Katrina in 2005. And that's after it had rebuilt itself from the direct hit by Hurricane Camille in 1969. Katrina's eyewall made a direct hit on the town, followed by a 26' storm surge. Worse still, Katrina came ashore at high tide, making the effects even more dire. Waveland was hit harder from wind and flooding than any other Gulf Coast town during Katrina - and, since we've all seen the pictures from New Orleans then, that's saying something.
Driving through town, I can see many houses are built on stilts of different heights. Surprisingly, though, quite a few are sitting flat on the ground on concrete slabs. They're less than a mile from the Gulf, and they're still lived in. They must have been completely underwater, and Katrina was the 2nd hurricane to hit here directly. I'd regard that as a trend myself and wonder why these folks haven't figured out alternative housing.
The campground where I'll be staying for the next few nights was totally demolished. They've had to rebuild everything. I'll give more of a report on that later.
In addition, this is one of only 2 major staging areas for spring and fall migrations of the eastern population of Sandhill Cranes, the other being in the area of Jasper, IN. This refuge has been working diligently since it was established and estimates the number of cranes to be up to 100 - definitely not many but more than 3 times what it was when they started.
For many miles in this area, the roadway is elevated because of going over wetlands and many streams and other bodies of water. Like one very long, low bridge. And the land is absolutely flat, all along the road. Quite a change from Alabama, though it may get hillier when I go farther north.
Waveland, The Hospitality City, was completely destroyed when it was "ground zero" for Hurricane Katrina in 2005. And that's after it had rebuilt itself from the direct hit by Hurricane Camille in 1969. Katrina's eyewall made a direct hit on the town, followed by a 26' storm surge. Worse still, Katrina came ashore at high tide, making the effects even more dire. Waveland was hit harder from wind and flooding than any other Gulf Coast town during Katrina - and, since we've all seen the pictures from New Orleans then, that's saying something.
Driving through town, I can see many houses are built on stilts of different heights. Surprisingly, though, quite a few are sitting flat on the ground on concrete slabs. They're less than a mile from the Gulf, and they're still lived in. They must have been completely underwater, and Katrina was the 2nd hurricane to hit here directly. I'd regard that as a trend myself and wonder why these folks haven't figured out alternative housing.
The campground where I'll be staying for the next few nights was totally demolished. They've had to rebuild everything. I'll give more of a report on that later.
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