Jan. 29-31
So far we’d avoided the worst of this winter. The blizzard that coated Washington and Virginia came when we were just south of it, in North Carolina.
Sure, the weather has been cooler than normal, but even so, my overcoat has spent more time in the car than on my back. Roses have been in bloom all along our route since we entered Georgia.
So here we were, in Vicksburg, Mississippi. To my ear, the name is a synonym for “sweltering.”
But we got a forecast of actual snow before we left. Only 1 to 3 inches, but still it was damned snow. Snow is cold; snow is nasty; snow is hard work. I hate snow.
It started to rain in the evening and then froze up sometime in the night. This isn’t snow country. The forecast said sleet, snow, sheets of ice. Public schools, colleges, even government offices were shut down.
Kwun Yam, Joanna, or somebody was praying for us because it wasn’t as bad as all that. We got an icy dusting on the grass. By the time we got up, the streets were dry.
The daytime high was only 40. Scattered snow and ice lingered in shaded spots all day. But that was all.
We had expected to spend the day indoors to avoid the weather. So it was a pleasant surprise that we were able to get out and visit the Cairo.
We became interested after we met one of the keepers of the Cairo at the Historic Klondyke bar.
The Cairo, pronounced like Karo, the corn syrup, not like the capital of Egypt, was named for the city on the Ohio River. It was one of a fleet of United States river gunboats that joined in the attack on Vicksburg.
It was a steam-powered ironclad that was wrecked by an explosive mine and sank on the Yazoo River. It was raised, with much difficulty, a hundred years later.
It is on display under a large canopy on the Vicksburg battlefield, near a section of the Union line that included artillery from the U.S. Navy. The hull and much of the superstructure, minus the original iron cladding, are more or less intact.
I think the boilers and remains of the paddle wheel are original, but am not sure.
There is a walkway that lets you stroll over the deck.
A museum next to the boat has a large collection of artifacts found in the wreck, including one sailor’s wallet. No one died when the boat sank, but everyone had to get off fast, so personal possessions and all equipment were left behind.
Good food is hard to come by in Mississippi and Alabama so I did some research online for dinner.
Google told me about a restaurant that looked promising, Walnut Hills. It was even easy to get to. We just had to turn onto Clay Street, which runs past the hotel, and then turn right at Adams.
When we got to Adams, Walnut Hills had its own sign on Clay St. pointing the way. So far, so good. Then we saw the sign on the porch: Closed Tuesday. Who closes on Tuesday?
We were in the old town, so we went exploring. We found a bar called Martin’s, and decided to try it.
It was mostly sandwiches on white bread. I opted for something they called a Cuban. It was not quite recognizable as such, although it had pork with pickles and cheese, and was finished in a press.
Joanna had an OK portion of grilled chicken, creamed spinach, and black-eyed pea salad.
We stopped briefly at the Klondyke, but it was very quiet and no one we knew was there at the time. We stayed for a beer, then took a couple of standards, including a can of Oskar Blues IPA, back to the hotel.
Wednesday we had a three-hour drive to Shreveport, La., but it took longer than that because we had two important detours to make. Both were important sites along our route that were recommended by Dave at the Klondyke.
One is a collection of very early Indian mounds with the unlikely name of Poverty Point. It is a Unesco World Heritage Site, like Angkor Wat or the historic center of Avignon.
The earthworks were the site of a city with a population estimated between several hundred and a few thousand people. The oldest mound dates to about 1700 B.C. People lived there until about 1350 B.C.
There is no evidence of agriculture. So given the dates, it is believed that a hunter-gatherer society built it and lived there.
There are the remains of six concentric ridges surrounding a huge plaza, about 37 acres of ground leveled by hand. The outermost and largest ridge is about 3/4 mile long.
Remains of cooking fires and other evidence shows that the residents built their homes on the ridges.
The people built four or five mounds, one of which is several hundred feet long and still stands 60 feet high today.
Nowhere else, in the Americas at least, if not the world, is there evidence of a hunter-gatherer population of that size, or of one settling down at all.
I assume the alternative theory is that all this was done by ancient astronauts.
One estimate is that the works required moving more than 1.2 million cubic feet of earth by hand. The earthworks are the largest for their time anywhere in the world.
The site is near Epps, La. The name Poverty Point comes from a plantation that occupied the site in the 19th century. The plantation plowed the area where the ridges are. That’s why they aren’t clearly visible from the ground.
They were discovered by an aerial photograph of the site.
Next stop on the road to Shreveport was Gibsland, La.
Gibsland has an annual Bonnie & Clyde festival. Highway 154 passes through town past the Bonnie & Clyde Museum and a short distance later turns right at New Lebanon.
About 4 1/2 miles south of that turn, two highway markers—a beat-up old stone one and a new, shiny bronze plaque—detail the police ambush that killed Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker.
We stopped in the museum gift store. It was filled with expected stuff, postcards with photos of Bonnie and Clyde (who didn’t look at all like Faye Dunaway or Warren Beatty), reproductions of old newspaper articles, costume gangster hats, that sort of thing. The two I liked best were a jigsaw puzzle of Bonnie and Clyde photos and a box of bubble-gum cigars.
According to one book I read, Bonnie Parker was upset when that photo was published because she was afraid that everyone would think that she really smoked cigars. Shooting policemen is one thing, but being a lady is something more important.
After we got to La Quinta in Shreveport, we wound up at Sam’s Southern Eatery for dinner. It was a couple of blocks from the hotel, which made it easy to find, and served nothing but Dixie fry. Joanna had a plate of fried catfish and oysters. I had shrimp and oysters.
They weren’t bad, but the portions were huge.
Joanna took most of her catfish filets home and ate them for lunch the next morning. She says they were even better cold.
Thursday we traveled a little over three hours to reach Dallas.
I was a bit nervous about the end of the trip. We had three sets of directions.
Google as usual wanted to send me the shortest way, which involved all kinds of connections that became increasing frequent as they got closer to downtown Dallas.
I worked out a route that was a little longer, but involved only two interstate highways until we got downtown.
The only problem is that we were getting different directions at the end of the ride, and some involved local streets that didn’t show up on the map.
It turned out that all we had to do was follow signs to Commerce Street and follow Commerce till we turned right onto South Houston.
Our hotel, a La Quinta, is a block from that intersection. The other side of the same intersection is Dealey Plaza.
Our room has a view of the plaza and the School Book Depository.
We arrived early enough that we were able to tour the Sixth Floor Museum that afternoon. When we saw Maryellen and Ken in Atlanta, Mare mentioned how informative and striking the museum is.
That’s why we decided to go to downtown Dallas.
The building that was the depository is now a county administration building. The entrance to the museum, which is privately run, is separate from the county business entrance.
An elevator took us directly to the sixth floor. The price of admission included an audio guide. The exhibits are photos and videos about John Kennedy and about controversies of the time, especially issues involving the overturning of many Jim Crow laws.
The corner where Oswald is said to have fired at Kennedy has been recreated. The arrangement of boxes that were described as a rifle rest and a sniper’s seat were never recorded, because investigators moved boxes in their search for evidence.
So any photos from the time were reproductions of the arrangement, based on the memory of witnesses. That’s the model for what you see now.
You can stand at a window, not the corner window where the shot was fired, because that is sealed off behind a glass wall, but at the next window. You can look down on Elm Street where Kennedy was shot. There are large white Xes on the street where bullets hit.
The museum also has a replica (at least, I have to assume it’s not the original) of the FBI’s reconstruction of the crime. White threads show the approximate paths the bullets took.
We had been eating a steady diet of heavy food, some of it very good, some not so good. So it was a big change when we discovered Bullion, a French restaurant two blocks from the hotel.
It’s a bit pricy, but worth it. The menu is nouvelle cuisine created by a chef from the Loire Valley.
We had a beet salad with mandarin sections and pistachios. On the side was something like a salty cannoli, mascarpone wrapped in a crisp crepe.
Then came the escargot ravioli. Each pillow had a snail inside it. The cream sauce was lightly flavored with garlic.
We shared a principal plate of rabbit done two ways. One was braised, falling apart like good pot roast. Even the pearl onions, something I usually avoid, were good.
The other preparation was shredded rabbit meat mixed with foie gras and baked in a patty inside a ring of bacon. That, too, was fantastic.
I had two very good reds from 2016: a Rhone Valley Grenache blend by Paul Autard, and Cabernet Franc from a domaine called Arnaud Lambert, Clos Mazurique, Breze.
The Grenache was very nice, especially after the food came. It had a slightly alum-like effect on my tongue at first.
The Cabernet Franc, which I may have had only once or twice before, had a touch of that overwhelming flavor that you get from Cabernet Sauvignon. I liked the Franc better any Cab Sauvignon I’ve had.
Dessert was a deconstructed Napoleon called Mille Feuille, thin cookies separated by layers of cream.
And on that note, let me wish you all sweet dreams, gang.
Harry
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