Deep South - Day 6

Ooohhhhh my goodness.  Today was AWESOME.  There are no other words to describe it.

We met Coerte (pronounced “Kurt”) and his son on Exit 121 off of I-10 on the porch at the Atchafalaya Visitor’s Center.  There were several of us waiting – including a couple and their grandson from Wichita, Kansas.  Small world.

Coerte

 Up pulls Coerte and son and their two high speed swamp boats.  After a tiny bit of organization, we proceeded with them to a public dock just below the highway.  They were friendly and funny men – Coerte was (we guessed) in his mid-eighties and his son was sixty-two.  Coerte told us that he had a Master’s Degree in Geology and still consults occasionally.  He does these swamp tours in his retirement for fun and to keep himself sharp.

We rode in Coerte’s boat which had a net about 3 feet high circling the entire surface.  I asked him if it was there to keep the critters out or the people in.  He then proceeded to tell me that it was to protect me from the flying carp.  I thought he was pulling my leg, but more on that later.  The boat had room for seven seated people.  We rode with a young couple from Germany who were very quiet – but taking lots of

Under I-10

pictures.  The family from Wichita and another grandmother and her two grandsons from Texas rode with Coerte’s son in his boat.

We backed out of the dock area and the two men proceeded to take us on a two hour tour of the basin that was one of the coolest things I’ve done.  We saw several Osprey in their nests.  One was flying high above us with a fish in its talons.  All of them were talking.  We saw great blue heron, we saw regular blue heron, we saw these furry, brown peaceful creatures that looked like a cross between a beaver and a river otter (Coypu – a.k.a. river rat – Coerte says they taste good), we saw snowy egrets, we saw snakes, we saw frogs, coot ducks (Coerte called them Jesus Ducks because they walked on water), black-bellied whistling ducks, we saw dragonflies, we saw tall, regal cypress, duck blinds,

Small Alligator on a Log

houseboats, fishermen and yes, we saw alligators.

Not only did we see a really BIG alligator sunning himself on a log at almost the first area we stopped at, but we also saw a smaller one back in the recesses of the swamp.  Coerte’s son had a big net with him (He used it mostly to pick up trash that he saw in and around the water.  He’d reach out with the net, pick up the trash and then proceed to lecture loudly about people and their disregard and disrespect for nature.  Love that man for his passionate and personal fight against trash in the swamp!)  But one time, he used it to catch two baby alligators and a one year old alligator for all of us to examine up close and personal.  We passed those alligators around

Alligator Walking

holding them, examining them up close, talking, telling stories and taking pictures for about 10-15 minutes of the tour.

Coerte and son were characters.  They were very comfortable with strangers and conducted their business as if we were all sitting in their living room watching TV.  They both had their cell phones and took phone calls when there was a signal of any worth and one could get through.  Cell service, as you can imagine, was spotty in the swamp.

“Hello, this is Coerte,” he would say.  “Well, I’m out in the middle of the swamp right now giving a tour, can you call back around 2:30 and I’ll get you in the book?”  A pause.  “What’s your name?  What?  John.  OK, John.  I’ll make sure to give you first chance when you call back on the boat tomorrow.”  He hung up.  “Some people,” he then remarked to the

Coerte's Son

group.  “They think we have a storefront or something.”  It was like being out in the middle of the swamp with your favorite uncle.

Coerte had several good, well-seasoned lines.  “Now, you’ll notice I don’t have a compass,” he said.  “Do you know how I can tell which direction we’re headed?”  We, of course, all dutifully swiveled in our seats to see.  He held up his finger, licked it and pointed it forward. “We’re going that way.”

At one point, and in chase of that smaller gator that we saw mucking around in some tightly spaced trees, he maneuvered the boat into a pretty tight spot and

Sam and an Alligator Selfie

we were all slightly concerned that we wouldn’t actually get back out.  After a little wiggling, grabbing of trees and branches and back and forth with the motor we were finally freed.  “See?” he said, “Even at my age I can still get the girls back in the bushes."

He was generous with information and didn’t ever say anything that he didn’t know for sure.  I asked him after seeing one of the alligators dip into the water how long they could stay down there.  “As long as they want,” he said.  “I’m not gonna argue with them.”

The whole trip he was being teased by his son and some of the other boaters about the net around his boat.  (When we would meet another boat there was always some friendly back and forth banter – just like

Lovin' the Boat Ride

walking down a street in a small town.)  “Mark my words,” he would say, “there is going to be a fatality someday here.  One of them carp is going to jump up and knock someone off their boat and they are gonna drown.”  To prove his point, he kept running the boat in circles periodically to see if he could get a carp to jump.  And I’ll be danged if he didn’t do just that.  The carp was big, jumped high and right behind our boat where there was no net.  Unfortunately, those of us in the boat were the only ones who saw it, so his son still thinks Coerte is pulling his leg and we are now all in on it.

Deep in the Swamp

The Atchafalaya Experience was a definite cool ride that we all enjoyed.  It’s a little too early to say – but it is definitely in the running for #1 on this trip.

Oak Alley

After we said goodbye to Coerte (He got a hug from me – somehow he now feels like family), we headed down to tour Oak Alley Plantation which is south of Baton Rouge and east of Morgan City and “sort of” on our way back to the houseboat.  Using Google Maps, we were able to navigate some backroads and save ourselves a little time getting to all these places.  We arrived around 2:30 and were ready for something a little more than trail mix and fruit jerky.  After refueling in the Plantation Café, we stood in line (that’s right….stood in line) to tour the home.

Oak Alley was built by a sugarcane farmer very early on in the South’s history.  The best thing about this particular plantation is the stand of perfectly spaced, ancient oak trees that line the quarter

300 Year Old Oak Tree

mile long avenue in front of the house and leading down to the edge of the Mississippi.  These twenty eight oak trees are some of the most massive, and most beautiful I have seen.  It’s what Ms. Austin would definitely call “a fair prospect.”

The Foundation that owns the plantation has recently created a six cabin exhibit featuring reproductions of the 20 slave cabins that existed in the rear of the house.  There cabins housed just under 60 slaves at one time – typically having two families and as many as 10 people living in one building. 

This exhibit does an excellent job explaining the life of a slave on a sugar plantation.  In one is a wonderful tribute to the names of the 150 or so total slaves that had lived at one time on the plantation and credits them with the hard work that they did to make the farm as prosperous as it

Blue Catfish

was.  It’s the best representation of the intelligent and hardworking minds, hands and backs that supported the economy of the south.

After that brief diversion we drove backroads to the houseboat and the boys spent some more time hanging off the back and fishing.  Isaac caught the most – including his very first, unassisted catfish that was probably the biggest fish that I have ever seen caught by a simple pole and worm.

After that successful evening, the whole family hopped in the hot tub on the upper deck to stare at the stars and enjoy our final evening on the boat together.  I hear that there is some early morning fishing planned….I might just skip that part.

Deep South - Day 5

Another day to putter.  And the final day in the cabin.  Today is a driving day – nothing much planned but traveling from place to place.  We are leaving our peaceful home in the woods to travel across the Mississippi and into the Atchafalaya swamp – and I find myself this morning in another philosophical mood.

River Bridge at Baton Rouge

What is it about this river?  It “defines” things.  Even Southwestern College – as far as we are from the river itself – has something that is defined by it.  Our tour guides are fond of recounting to numerous visitors and guests how our gymnasium is “the oldest active gymnasium used for its original purpose west of the Mississippi.”

What would happen if there were no Mississippi?  What would the United States look like?  How would it define its boundaries and superlatives?  This river, this “Father of the Waters,” as the Native Americans called it, is as linked to the history of our nation as a bodily organ.  It is difficult to imagine life without it.

And so it is that when you turn at Baton Rouge onto I-10 west and you look ahead and see the large, high bridge that crosses the river, you sit up a little straighter in your chair.  You tap the children on the leg or arm and say, “Take the headphones out of your ear, we’re about to cross the Mississippi!”  And they do.  And then you all sit in reverent awe, staring out the windows at this moving mass of muddy water.

It was busy today – this water highway.  There were barges loaded down with cargo as far as the eye can see.  What is on the barges?  Where did they come from?  Where are they going?  You look at the trucks littering I-10 east toward the city and wonder how many of those are headed to the port so their contents can be off-loaded onto one of the barges that will carry it down to the gulf and eventually the sea.  How many of the trucks going west are carrying cargo that they picked up?

Mark Twain

All of this free flowing exchange of goods.  People to sell and people to buy.  Maybe Mark Twain is on to something when he equates the river barge pilot with the very essence of American freedom.

“…all men – kings and serfs alike – are slaves to other men & to circumstance – save alone, the pilot – who comes at no man’s beck and call, obeys no man’s orders & scorns all men’s suggestions…It is a strange study, -- a singular phenomenon, if you please, that the only real, independent & genuine gentlemen in the world go quietly up and down the Mississippi river asking no homage of any one, seeking no popularity, no notoriety, & not caring a damn about whether school keeps or not.”  Letter to Will Bowen, August 1866.

The river’s meandering ways are free.  It is not even limited by its banks which notoriously change.  Man has attempted to tame it – and sometimes it appears to have happened.  But only because the Mississippi allows it.  In reality, the Mississippi does what it wants.  No one can control it.  No one can tell it what to do.  You can only ride its currents and enjoy the scenery.

I-10

Until, that is, the scenery changes.  After crossing the Mississippi at Baton Rouge, we quickly found ourselves “smack dab in the middle” (so the sign at the visitor center said) of the Atchafalaya swamp.  (Atchafalaya is pronounced:  Ah-CHAH-fuh-law’-ya – make sure to put the emphasis on the second syllable.  I heard some southern gentlemen up further north soften the ‘ch’ into more of an ‘sh,’ but the locals all pronounce it as above.  When in Rome, I say.)  The visitor center nearest Lafayette on I-10 gives an excellent introduction of the importance of the swamp in a five minute continuously looping video.  As a result, we learned very quickly that the Atchafalaya basin (translate swamp) is the largest wetland in the United States.

First – a little terminology.  A river is a large, natural stream of water that flows in a channel to the 

sea, a lake or another stream or river.  A bayou is a marshy outlet of a lake or a river.  A swamp, on the other hand, is an area of low-lying, uncultivated ground where water “hangs out.”  Regardless of whether we were driving through bayou, swamp or across a river – the fact was – there was water everywhere.

Within a two hour space of time, we had gone from a national forest where water was present in the form of creeks and puddles, to crossing the Mississippi with its barges, industry and boats, to driving on an elevated highway thick in the middle of a swamp.  The area down here is “tight” with nature.

We drove into Lafayette and stopped for some fried shrimp, fried catfish and a little Louisiana

gumbo at Vermilionville – a small, living museum with various homes and buildings representing Acadian culture throughout the years.  After that satisfying stop, it was on to Rouses in Morgan City, LA to replenish our supplies and head out to a Hicks' first - a stay on a houseboat in the swamp.

And it was on the houseboat on this first night that a small miracle happened.  We entered and unloaded the car and within minutes – the boys had found the 5 fishing rods and tackle box stowed in the back closet.  They loaded those things up with bait and had those lines in the water faster than you can say Atchafalaya!  Their I-Phones were laying on their beds where they had laid them when they took their clothes in from the car.  I checked.

I think we are going to have a good time here.

 

 

 

Deep South - Day 4

My favorite way to wake up in the morning is to putter.  The Tinmann Retreat is perfect for

Tinmann Kitchen

puttering.  After the kind of sleep you can only get in the country – miles from highways, cars and all kinds of man-made noise – I was the first to wake up.  I got up and I puttered.  I made a little coffee, read a little, wrote a little, listened to the birds a lot, and then waited for the boys to wake up.

And then we all puttered some more.  No rush.  No schedule.  Nowhere to be anytime real soon.  At one point, Ross walked outside and down to a little creek west of the house.  He stood there for 10 minutes watching for wildlife.  While I sat in a comfy leather chair the boys would wander in and out from their bedroom foraging for food and stopping

Tinmann Living Room

to chat.  We all ate our breakfast in courses and stages and basically had a very relaxing morning just doing a little bit of nothing.

If you are ever this way and want a little slice of perfection in the woods – we highly recommend this place.  It is located a little over 20 minutes from Natchez and even less from the Natchez Trace.  It’s the perfect distance to serve as a home base of operations.

When we felt like it, we headed out to tour a couple of antebellum homes in nearby Natchez.  Founded in 1716 as a French fort, Natchez is the oldest city on the Mississippi River.  Next year, Natchez will be celebrating its 300^th year of existence and, according to the locals, it will be a party all year long.

Longwood Front Porch

Natchez is special just because it isn’t special.  The spot it occupies on the Mississippi is not strategic in any way – so General Grant and Sherman left it alone.  As a result, it is home to more than 600 examples of antebellum architecture – more than any other in the south.  You can spend several days just touring the historic homes within the town and its surrounds. 

We toured two.  We started at Longwood Plantation which – if you are a family made up of mostly males – is really the only one among them that will be interesting.  First, Longwood is in the shape of a hexagon, so even before you walk in the door you know there is something different about this home.  Second, and the thing that makes Longwood unique, is that it is unfinished. 

Longwood was under construction as the civil war began.  Its builders had

Longwood Upper Floors

all come from Pennsylvania and other parts north.  So when the war began, the builders promptly put down their tools and left the area.  The family and their eight children continued living in the 10,000 square foot basement until ultimately, they turned the mansion over to the Natchez Garden Club for preservation and restoration.  If the mansion had been completed, it would have been 6 floors and 30,000 square feet of living space.

Once you are finished touring the rooms on the first floor, you climb the stairs to the upper floors which are all unfinished.  The Garden Club ladies have graciously

Lunch at The Camp

enhanced the building plans so you can catch the vision of what the mansion would have been when it was finished.  And it would have been something very special.

From there, we headed to Natchez Under the Hill for lunch.  This area was the original “City of Natchez.”  Its 20 or so buildings were all the city contained until shortly after the Revolutionary War.  According to historians, the area was a frequent visitation spot for gamblers, river pirates, highwaymen, cut-throats, prostitutes and all manner of despicable characters.  It was described in one publication like this: “for the size of it, there is

Skipping Rocks with the Old Man

not, perhaps in the world, a more dissipated spot.”

Today, you will not want to miss poking your head into the Natchez Under the Hill Saloon which has a rich history.  The saloon frequently has live music and a regular crowd of afternoon patrons who gather on the porch to shoot some bull.  We ate lunch next door at The Camp.  We sat on the front porch and polished off BLT’s, Grilled Cheese and a BBQ Chicken sandwich while watching several logs and one barge float down the Mississippi in front of us.

During lunch, we found ourselves getting philosophical.  There is something romantic about passing

All You Need is a Stick

the time, casually eating and staring at the activity on the river.  It’s slow, lazy and carefree time.  It’s time made for thinking big thoughts.  It’s time made for dreaming big dreams.  And so like moths to a flame, as soon as we were done eating the boys left me to pay and wandered down to the water’s edge.  And I didn’t mind – because something primal inside of me told me they needed this time to commune together with the Old Man.  They came back bearing a single, yellow Jonquil and I knew I’d done the right thing.

From there, we drove to High Street and Stanton Hall.  Frederick Stanton was an Irish immigrant and cotton merchant who made a bundle of money off of the cotton industry in the mid-nineteenth century.  The mansion cost $83,000 to complete – a cool $3 million in today’s dollars.  The Pilgrimage Garden Club owns and gives tours of the property.  According to the local guides, the family is

Stanton Hall

slowly returning the original furnishings to the home – including an entire 5 piece bedroom suite that just arrived.  Of particular note also is the entire set of hand painted china original to the home.

It’s a beautiful home furnished with mirrors imported from France, gasoliers from Philadelphia, and marble mantle pieces from New York.  The guide indicated that much of the wood to build the home was the cyprus and pine native to the area.  To make it appear fancier, the owners would faux finish the wood to make it look like more expensive mahogany and oak.  They would also finish the floorboards to look like black and white marble.   Decorating this way was apparently preferred to ordering the real stuff because that would, of course, just be showing off.

After the tour of Stanton Hall, we drove around town looking at additional homes and then headed up the Natchez Trace to look at EmeraldMound.  Emerald Mound is one of the largest ancient Indian mounds in North America.  The mound is 35 feet high and contains two smaller mounds on top of

Emerald Mound

the large one.  Scholars feel it was built and used between 1250 and 1600 A.D.  Its builders were the ancestors of the Natchez Indians and the site was used as a ceremonial and cultural center for the local population.

We had the mound to ourselves with the exception of two young women and their dog Miles who took an instant interest in the boys.  Miles and the boys played “chase” and “catch” on top of the football field sized surface while his owners and mom and dad looked around.  This site is worthy of seeking out if you have the time.

We drove back to the cabin using the Natchez Trace, getting out of the car at one point to put actual foot to original road.  It was here that we found a spot to satisfy a curiosity that had been bugging us since Vicksburg – what exactly does Loess feel like?

Walking the Trace

And it is definitely interesting.  The area had experienced a little rainfall so the Loess soil was wet.  If you have ever played with the play sand that exists in toy stores these days – the kind that holds it shape but doesn’t dry out – it feels kind of like that.  In other words, it feels a little like non-gritty sand, but looks a lot like regular dirt.  There is definitely no evidence of the clay that is so common in the dirt in Kansas and Oklahoma.  Even rolling a tiny bit of the damp soil around in our hands left no trace of mud.  It simply balled up in smaller and smaller pieces until we tired of rolling it around.  We brushed it off and it was as if we never held it.  Fascinating stuff, I tell you.

From there – it was back to our cabin in the woods and a relaxing evening.

Deep South - Day 3



Messiah Lutheran Sanctuary

Rule #3 of Hicks’ family vacations:  If it’s Sunday, you should be in church.  We call ourselves Lutherdists due to the fact that Ross is a PK of the Lutheran persuasion and I am a child of the Methodist persuasion.  Both religions are born out of the philosophy of grace which is our common ground.  This Sunday, we hunted down the only Missouri Synod Lutheran Church in Vicksburg, Mississippi – Messiah Lutheran on Cain Ridge Road.

We arrived with an elderly couple who were opening the door and learned it was Lay Sunday because the church was “in between” pastors.  The service was simple, short and the congregation friendly.  Including the four of us, we counted 14 sitting in the church pews.  There were several good singers and the organist knew how to coax a good strong melody out of the organ.


Illinois Monument

After the service, the entire congregation met us in the narthex to shake our hand and introduce themselves.  One woman was part of the original 1950 congregation and her picture was hanging in the narthex standing by her twin sister.  Another woman was a frequent visitor to town who enjoyed worshiping at Messiah when she was there.  And finally, at the end of the group of greeters, a young father of three, wandered up and shook my hand. 

“Will you be visiting Vicksburg Military Park this afternoon?” he asked.  “Yessir,” I said.  “Did you request a tour guide at about 1:00 p.m.?” he asked.  “Why yes I sure did,” I said catching on to where he was headed. 

“I’m your tour guide!” “Are you our tour guide?” we both said in unison. 


"Old Abe" - Wisconson Infantry

I’m a firm believer that God’s hand guides all good things.  Vicksburg is one of two civil war battlefields that have tour guides who have been certified by the federal government – the other being Gettysburg.  They ride in your car and take you through the park for a small fee that depends on the size of your vehicle.  It’s a great way to learn about the park – but a little intrusive.  God saved us from awkwardness, established some common ground between us and a stranger, and we were rewarded for going to church!

Vicksburg Military Park contains 16 miles of tour road where numerous red and blue markers define

Blown to Freedom

the spots where regiments camped, advanced and died in one of the bloodiest campaigns of the war.  BB, our tour guide, regaled us with stories of Grant’s horse named Kangaroo, Orion Howe, the 14-year-old son of a Union soldier that dodged and darted an impossible trail of bullets to inform the rear lines that more ammunition was needed at the front, “Old Abe” the eagle who was the Wisconsin infantry’s mascot and good luck charm, the confederatecamel that made a bunch of money for his owners when he got shot, and the slave who was “literally” blown several hundred feet in the air to freedom.

Vicksburg Battlefield

A student of General Grant, he also told us the very interesting relationship between Grant, known for getting a little “into his cups” and General John Rawlins, the teetotaler who allegedly got Grant to promise not to drink again until after the war was won.  BB led us through the Illinois monument, the Shirley farmhouse, the museum where the warship Cairo is restored and preserved, and several of the prominent fights of the siege of Vicksburg.  We learned much during the 2 hours we rode with BB.  He was able to describe for us the scene the war painted along with some terrific character studies of not just the leaders, but several of the soldiers involved. 

Still Commissioned Cairo Warship

Touring battlegrounds isn’t always on the list of top things to do for most people.  I believe it is important to actually see the battlefields that we learn about in our history books.  Observing with your own eyes the significance of the “space” of a battlefield and reading about the space are two entirely different things.  Running through the campaigns while driving the actual geography helps history make sense.  You can see the challenge that was laid before the Union army.  You can quickly understand why Vicksburg was so difficult to conquer.  It’s a great battlefield and worth the stop for anyone interested in learning more about the civil war.

After we said goodbye to BB who left our car to hop inside a huge tour bus, we headed south on  Highway 61 toward Natchez and the first of our VRBO stays.  But before we got there, we took one side trip to see the ruins of Windsor Plantation just a little west of Alcorn State University.

The ruins are only a few miles east of the river in Mississippi backwoods country where you can

Loess Bluff on Natchez Trace

really see the effects of a weird kind of soil.  It is called loess (pronounced “low-ess” by the locals and “luss” by those who honor the word’s French heritage).  This soil is common on the Natchez Trace and in Vicksburg and creates the characteristic hills of the area.  A quick visit with a ranger at the visitor’s center helped us pronounce and describe this phenomena.

I first ran across the name in Deep South by Nevada Barr.  Anna Pigeon runs aground in this soil on her very first day in Mississippi.  Loess is a low-clay, low-sand soil that is essentially compressed dust.  The soil type is common to the area and only found in a few locations throughout the world.

Drawing Windsor Plantation

Out in these eroding loess hills and standing in the middle of a pasture, stand the ruins of Windsor Plantation.  The only remaining picture of the plantation in existence is a sketch found by historians from Henry Otis Dwight, an officer in Grant’s army in 1991.  Dwight’s drawing was the first one found by a person who actually had seen the plantation with his own eyes.  The plantation was owned and built by Smith Coffee Daniell II, a

Windsor Ruins

successful cotton farmer who died weeks after completing the construction.  It survived through the civil war only to be burned down in 1890 by a careless guest who dropped a cigarette.

Windsor is also a literary site.  Mark Twain gazed out at the Mississippi from the roof of the building and wrote about it in his book, “Life on the Mississippi.”  Mr. Clemons is one of my favorite authors – right up there with Miss Austin.  This ruins holds a special place in my heart.


VRBO #655774

From there, we connected again with Highway 61 and continued south to the Tinmann Retreat.  This cabin in the woods is located just outside of Knoxville, Mississippi in the heart of the Homochitto National Forest. 

The cabin is about 4.5 miles down a dirt road and it is wonderful.  Owned by Ken and Beth Andermann as a place where they can invite friends and guests, Ken and Beth greeted us at the door with an offering of warm banana bread and immediately connected with both boys.  Ken spent a little time telling us about the area, shortcuts to Natchez and making sure we were comfortable.  I love the south.

Deep South - Day 2

Rule #1 of Hicks family vacations:  Hotels must have three things: a good breakfast, a pool and fast

Hampton Inn Breakfast

internet.   The Hampton Inn at Broken Arrow, Oklahoma had all three.  Breakfast was a sumptuous spread of oatmeal with all the fixings, fresh fruit (including grapefruit), hard boiled eggs, sausage, omelets, waffles, cereal, pastries, toast, milk and – the best part – a loudly singing, advice slinging, in-your-face friendly, 50-year-old breakfast attendant who made up in spunk what she lacked in height.

We rose early for a full day of driving.  By nightfall, we would be in Vicksburg, Mississippi – 481.7 miles to the south and east – and on the other side of the Mississippi.  Rule #2 of Hicks family vacations:  Stops are required every two hours for a leg stretch and snack.  With this in mind, we headed south into an overcast, rainy Saturday.  Fortunately, after two hours of solid pitter-patter, the rain took a break when we did. 

Two hours from Broken Arrow on I-40 is the sleepy little town of Clarksville, Arkansas and The University of the Ozarks.  The NCAA Division III college is located on a compact, 30-acre campus and affiliated with the Presbyterian Church.  We arrived around 10:00 am – way before the majority of the students were stirring.  We enjoyed touring the Seay Student Center, the Walton Fine Arts Building and the Mabee Sports Complex where the purple Eagles play basketball.  The student center had great bathrooms and the campus was just the right size for a brisk, 30 minute meander.

From Clarksville, we continued south to Little Rock for lunch from the back of the car in the parking lot of the Arkansas Inland Maritime Museum.  Docked in the Arkansas River is the U.S.S. Razorback – a WWII submarine that was one of 12 submarines present in Tokyo Bay at the formal surrender

Arkansas Inland Maritime Museum

ceremonies on September 2, 1945.  The sub is not named, as we were assuming, after the pig.  Instead, it is named after the Razorback whale – and there are several cute pictures of this mascot laying around.

Before we went below decks, our tour guide Paul told us that all the buttons, levers and gears in this submarine actually work – so no touching.  He enjoyed turning on the diesel engines and testing out the dive alarm for our hearing pleasure.  Paul, who was a U.S. Navy veteran and submariner, also talked about how the boat could get a little claustrophobic after a long period of submersion.  The biggest problem was that

the CO2 levels would get so high cigarettes wouldn’t burn.  After a while, he said, “people got a little testy.”  He then showed us a couple of showers but said – those were where the guys kept the potatoes.  Water was scarce on board and drinking water was rationed.  He told us that the longest time he went without a shower was 30 days.  Close your eyes a minute and imagine 80 guys, under water, in a tight cramped space with no shower for 30 days.  His trick?  Baby powder.

Becoming a submariner was no easy feat.  First, you had to spend 6-12 months learning the function of every single lever, gauge, knob, wheel, hatch and tube on board the boat.  Then, you had to walk through the boat with a senior member and be tested.  When you passed, you were given your dolphins.  If you ever switched boats – you had to repeat the process again because apparently, no two submarines are the same.

If you haven’t been on a submarine before, this one is a good one.  It is not, however, for everyone.  At the museum entrance is a replica of one of the seven total four foot high openings that you must crawl through.  To enter the sub, you must descend an 11 foot ladder and to exit, you must climb a 14 foot ladder through tiny, claustrophobic openings in the deck.  Those two items certainly added an element of excitement to the experience.  The tour was certainly a hit with our family and a great way to spend our lunch break.  We were the first visitors from Winfield to stick a pin on their visitor map.  We were also interested to discover that Paul, our tour guide, had a niece who lives in in our hometown – small world.

Dining Room at Doe's

After this great break, we grabbed I-30 south and crossed the Mississippi just south of Lake Village, Arkansas.  From there it was a short trip to Greenville, Mississippi and our dinner location.  We had 5:30 p.m. reservations at the original, family owned Doe’s Eat Place.  We were there early enough that we probably could have walked in – but the place was beginning to fill up by the time we left.  We entered through the kitchen, walked past the spot where the steaks were grilling and sat in the same room where the cooks prepared our salad, boiled shrimp and made tamales. 

Doe's Eat Place - Outside

The menu is simple, the atmosphere reminded me of backwoods bait shop, the area surrounding the restaurant looks like the 100 year flood hit about a month ago – but the steak.  Ross and I agreed it was in our top 5 all-time best steaks that we have eaten.  Rich, buttery and oh so good – this was a real find.  The steak was locally purchased, aged just right and never frozen.  Ross, Sam and I all ate cuts that were on the rare side of our order.  The steaks were adorned with a side of fries and the salad and heavily buttered garlic bread were extra.  Soda was served with a glass of ice and a can and the service was prompt and friendly.  Who cares about the visitor’s center in a restored riverboat!  It was closed anyway.  Doe’s was about the best welcome to Mississippi that I could imagine.

Greenville, MS Visitor's Center

After an incredibly satisfying dinner, we messed around a little on the closed restored river boat that serves as the visitor’s center.  Then we hopped in the car and headed south on Highway 1 to our next bed in Vicksburg.

Deep South - Day 1

Part of the fun of vacation for me is reading about the area where we are visiting.  One of the books this year is Biography of a River: The Living Mississippi by Edith McCall.  She begins her book with a quote from Charles Kuralt taken from his article, “Down by the River.”

Charles Kuralt

“Everything I love about America is a gift of the rivers: steamboats, pioneers, Huckleberry Finn, blue herons and snowy egrets, the Grand Canyon and the Blue Ridge hallows…jazz and catfish and ferryboats and covered bridges.  None of them would be there, in memory or in fact, without the rivers…America is a great story, and there is a river on every page of it.”

I read this while bypassing the town of Sedan, Kansas on HWY 166.  Outside the winter weary, brown prairie grass rippled in waves out from the car as far as the eye could see.  The quote seemed a fitting way to start this trip into the depths of the Deep South – a poetic beginning to a trip I took once as a child with my parents and now as a parent with my children.  Then the purpose was to visit cousins and the World’s Fair.  Now it is to spend a spring break playing together as a family.

And through it all will be the river.  We reconnect with the Arkansas River at Tulsa and then will

Tulsa, OK at Night

follow it south and east as it winds its way through the state of Arkansas.  We will watch it join the Mighty Mississippi and then follow the “Old Man” south all the way to the delta and swamps of Louisiana and on through to the shores and sands of the Gulf.

As we entered Bartlesville, a soft spring rain began to fall baptizing us the rest of the way to the hotel.  A quick stop at the Bass Pro Shop in Broken Arrow was necessary to replace Dad’s sunglasses and in anticipation of sunny days ahead.  In no time we were tucked into our beds and dreaming of the adventure ahead.

It's the kind of beginning writers dream about.  Our bags are packed and the car is jammed with enough food and snacks to occupy the stomachs of two growing teenage boys for a full week.  The Hicks’ have embarked again on the open road.  We can go anywhere and do anything with enough time and inclination.  It is freedom in its purest form and what I love best about living in America. 

Deep South – here we come.