2009-08-05: For thousands of years, Native Americans followed animals along this 400-odd mile trail, wearing it down over generations. Later, the US Army extended and managed the trail even further, and it was heavily used until the use of steamboats on the Mississippi River diminished its importance. Now the original trace is slowly vanishing, being reclaimed by the plant kingdom.
Travelling the trace was incredibly pleasant and relaxing. The road has a constant speed limit of 50 MPH. Commercial traffic is prohibited. Access from major roads is very limited. This was a road where I could set my speed, lean back, and just cruise. There were plenty of places to stop, some for rest or picnicking, others for historical sites, and others for short hikes. It should be noted that the weather was, by my standards, perfect.
I took advantage of several of these little trails. Sometimes there were small lakes and streams, and sometimes even the original trace could be found. One trail lead into a cypress swamp. This swamp was a bit more watery than the one I'd hiked at Lake Fausse Point. I also encountered a new sight: kudzu. I know it's a parasite that ruins many native plants, but I do find it to be beautiful in the way it completely envelopes its host and makes even non-living things, such as utility poles, green and leafy.
It was here that I made a new achievement, as well. I happened to glance at my trip miles, and noticed that I was approaching 10,000 miles. I was able to stop at one of the historical markers and capture a photo to commemorate the event. It seemed so arbitrary as to be unimportant, but then I reflected on how far I'd come, and all the entirely new things I'd seen and experienced. It was officially an adventure, a grand journey. The number 10,000 isn't important, but it's big enough, and when I thought about just how many miles of new stuff that was, I felt amused and quite satisfied.
Though the parkway continued into Tennessee, I was making for Alabama and Georgia. The sun began to sink as a haze of humidity rose up from the fields of small crops, perhaps soybeans. I reflected on what a pleasant, easy day it had been.
I reluctantly began to look for a place to sleep, as I had again opted not to plan ahead. Tishomingo State Park was along the Parkway. I stopped, showered, and prepared to find a site, when I was compelled to keep going. I cannot say what made me feel so, but I decided to go with it. Many of the sites were on steep slopes, so perhaps I didn't feel like going through the trouble of finding a comfortable site. I left the Parkway and headed north on the nearest highway, not really sure where I was going. After much uncertainty and searching, I found the Corinth, MS Wal-mart. Good enough, I thought, since I was low on water and some other things. The next morning, I went inside to get what I needed, and strangely, people were lined up to buy guns and ammunition around 8:00 on a Sunday morning.
I then decided I'd partake in another southern tradition: breakfast at Waffle House. I wanted to try a little of everything - eggs, grits, biscuits and gravy, and more. It was deliciously rich and unhealthy, though after weeks of mostly raw, cold foods, I welcomed this greasy mess. They smother everything in butter. They literally fry your gravy a little before putting it on your biscuits.
Most shockingly, the place I went to was unofficially segregated. White people sat on one side of the restaurant, black people sat on the other. I sat as centrally as I could manage, at the counter. A black man came in with his white girlfriend or wife and I waited to see where they'd sit. This behavior was entirely alien to me and I was as fascinated as I was disgusted. As expected, they sat on the "colored" side. I engaged in a bit of people watching and saw just about every southern stereotype I'd ever heard of.
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