took
a picture of everyone by the "Welcome to Port Gibson - 'Too Beautiful to
Burn' -- U.S. Grant". This photo is now the famous "Before" shot.
By Eric
We left New Orleans in the truck headed for a canoe rental place near Tyler Town, Mississippi called Sweet Water canoes. A guy there named Shirley said he'd rent us some boats. This was actually our second choice place to get the boats. Our first choice, located in Baton Rouge, only had one boat to rent (despite numerous calls in the months and weeks before asking for 4 boats).
In some ways it might have been good to spend a day or two in New Orleans where we could get good maps and books for the trip. That way we might have actually known where we were on the river as we floated downstream; instead, we had to rely mostly on xeroxed copies of state road maps that we had mounted on lunch boxes for all our crew.
But it's a good thing we didn't delay. We would also have had lots and lots of people telling us we were crazy. In the summer people drown in the Mississippi river almost every day. Just about every taxi driver thought it was a dangerous proposition to canoe it. "Don't EVER do that again," one guy told us later. Even before we got to New Orleans people told us we were nuts. One outfitter in New Orleans said he didn't have boats to rent and even if he did, he wouldn't rent them to us. A Cajun cook in a restaurant down the street from our apartment in San Francisco told us to be careful because the Mississippi is a MEAN Riv-uh. It's not really an adventure without people telling you you're crazy I guess.
(As it turns out, Big Muddy has been navigated by many, many people--from European explorers to modern-day solo canoeists. In the 1800s lots of folks poled huge boats up the river. Mark Twain wrote lots about the river's history (warning: in the introduction to modern editions of the river's history chapter, the editors say Twain made a few factual errors here) and early explorations in his book Life on the Mississippi.)
We were a little worried leaving New Orleans with Mark and Leo in the back of the van. We weren't sure how survivable it would be or whether or not is was even legal. Joan was driving and wanted to make frequent stops to check on them but the first thing you cross on your way north out of New Orleans. is the world's longest bridge. It's 25 miles long without a breakdown lane. We weren't even sure if we'd hear Mark and Leo screaming in the back if something went wrong.
About 15 miles into it, Joan started thinking about how easy it would be for the van to plunge over the guard rail into Lake Pontchartrain, and how one of us would have to dive down to unlock the back. Finally Katy just said not to think about it.
When we finally stopped about an hour after leaving, we found Mark curled up in a ball, screaming and quivering like a mad man and Leo with his eyes rolled back in the top of his head. Fortunately, it turned out to be a joke and they were fine after all. Mark screamed for a long time until we told him we were in a rich neighborhood and it was probably only a matter of minutes until someone called the police. He looked like he had just taken a shower with his clothes on.
We switched off riding in the back of the van. Everyone got a try on the way up except Joan (who did all the driving) and Katy (who had sense--she did try on the way back).
Shirley's Sweet Water canoe rentals is a place I'd like to own someday. He must have 50 or 100 canoes on the few acres of partially wooded lot along a creek. Shirley (a man) rents people boats and drives them upstream if they want and lets 'em float back. He loves his creek, and he considers it HIS creek. He doesn't mind if you drink beer floating down, but whatever you do, don't swear. On several of the trees around his place are big clean signs, "ABSOLUTELY NO PROFANITY". He told some beer drinking, cussing paddlers on his property, "This is a dry county. The fine's $250 per can of beer. So if I was you, I'd just shut up and enjoy the beer." After that, he said, "You could hear a pin drop."
After dinner at a Chinese place (not bad for Mississippi--even Bob liked it though he was hoping for gumbo) and an extended stop at a Walmart near McComb, MS, [at the Walmart, Bob bought a little walkman type tape player with speakers for $10. Then, on a lark, he bought a Muddy Waters tape at a gas station for $5, little knowing that this would become the blues soundtrack of the trip], we arrived in Port Gibson around 11pm.
We camped nearby at Grand Gulf Military State Park (a.k.a. Grand Gulf Military Monument Park). To get there we drove down narrow winding roads with signs that said "Evacuation Route" pointing the way we had come. Turns out the place was right next to a nuclear power plant. That's where we got our water for the first half of the trip. The campground was closed but we walked in with our tents.
The following morning we had the last showers we would have for a week.
That was a tough night for Mark and Leo. Leo's tent zipper was broken so the bugs could fly in and out as they pleased. They both ended up sleeping in the mosquito fest in the back of the van, which wasn't much better. In the morning we noticed that the van was parked next to a beautiful swamp filled with white herons and insects. (Almost anywhere you park in Mississippi is next to a swamp.)
We drove into Port Gibson with 3
things to do before we could leave: have breakfast, get supplies and return
the truck. First we stopped at the edge of town and took
a picture of everyone by the "Welcome to Port Gibson - 'Too Beautiful to
Burn' -- U.S. Grant". This photo is now the famous "Before" shot.
Port Gibson has some nice Ante-bellum
homes as you approach from the south side. However, on the other side of
the court house, down by the river, it is a lot poorer. We had breakfast
at a place called J.B.s that was pretty much in the poor side of town.
Grits and eggs were the order of the day. There were no other customers
there when we arrived and none came while we were there. The waitress seemed
very surprised to see us. [KATY: The decor consisted of paper placemats
tacked to the wall. One depicting bad portraits of the Presidents and another
explaining the US government's balance of power. Eggs, grits and a civics
lesson - what more can you ask for in a breakf
ast.
]
Afterwards, we walked around town a little. There weren't many people around except several men in unusual long pants with wide horizontal stripes of green and white (much like the shorts bought at Wal-Mart the day before). These people turned out to be prisoners on a work release program.
One of the prisoners was painting a mural on the side of a building. Joan talked to him a little. He said something about making a few mistakes. Turned out he used to own an Osh Kosh store in Long Beach, Calif., and then moved to Mississippi, where he was convicted of some kind of white collar money stealing--he described it as pushing a few buttons on the computer. Joan felt like she'd dug a lot of information out of a happenstance meeting until she met back up with the rest of the crew and found out they had all interrogated him, too. Katy and Bob had a nice conversation with him about murals and the like, he seemed to be making the best of, and even enjoying some, a bad situation.
We drove to the put-in, a spot on the Bayou Pierre under a bridge. The U-Haul rental guy later said he saw us driving our truck off the road, into a grassy field toward the river and couldn't figure out what the heck we were doing. We dropped all the canoes and supplies and left behind four people to pack while Joan and I returned the truck, just a block away. Unfortunately, after more than 100 miles of incredibly meticulous driving, Joan slipped up and managed to come close to taking out a gas pump at the U-Haul return place, right in front of the U-Haul guy. That's the only time anyone from U-Haul saw her driving, and she regrets it still.
She spent the next hour in the office, trying to get U-Haul to explain why they made her pay two deposits for the truck, and reserving another U-Haul truck for the take-out in St. Francisville. We didn't want to go with U-Haul again, but it is very hard to make a long distance phone call in Mississippi, even with a calling card, and the U-Haul guy offered to call U-Haul reservations for us for free. It was a mistake we would later regret.
Stay tuned for Chapter III Wherein we learn how to eat garlic.
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