Mendy takes another spill, scarred by the Old Trace.

Not much sleep, went to bed late (1am) and up relatively early (7:30). Actually got onto the road in a timely manner. As I was packing the bike, I noticed there was a pin in the GoPro case. It was clearly a motorcycle club pin and I was trying to figure out where from when a couple of guys started talking to me in the parking lot. Turns out it was them who had left me the pin and they were riders back in Finland. They were on a road trip from Key West to San Fran. Eventually, they went back and gave me their Iron Butt Finland pin. My first IBA! Honorary, for sure, but it just means I have to earn one fair and square now.

I figured I should do something else ‘Memphis’ oriented and swung out to Graceland. I got there and realized parking was $10, on top of the min $30 fee for entry/tour. The Rock n Soul museum had given me a little more respect for what influence Elvis had on music and USA, but not enough to shell out $40 and half a day. I looped the neighbourhood around Graceland – really nice houses – before heading back to the Natchez Trace on 78. In Tupelo, the exit I took for gas happened to be the same exit as the “birthplace of Elvis”. Not something I would have went out of my way for, but when it’s only 2 miles and I’ve already stopped, figured it was worth visiting. Especially since it was free. And I think the car on display reminded me my issues with US history sites. Nice car and all, but the plaque basically sums up to: “Possibly the make/model of car the Presleys used to move from Tupelo to Memphis”. Not the actual car, just a good specimen. And considering the Presleys moved to Memphis because they were broke, probably in much better condition than the real deal at the time of the move.

Getting back on the Natchez Trace Parkway was tougher this time around than the evening of the last trip. The south half has better shade and the rainy afternoon really helped cool things donw. And like LA, my eyes would not stay open. I did have to pull over a few times just to rest up. I took a break at the Freedom Hills Lookout to take a picture. Sights are still not the same as other National Parks. I also managed to run over my mister nozzle on this stop – destroyed my cooling system. I decided to look for gas at Shady Grove. Driving past the town store, it didn’t look like that was the right stop, so I kept going for a little bit. Further down the road, there wasn’t much of anything, so I hung a left onto a side street, with the intention of turning around. Narrow road, and quite nice farm country, so I kept going. Cool little loop, but when the gas light came on, I realized I had better get back to the Trace and find a gas station. No cell phone coverage, so I decided to use my ‘internal compass’ and find my own way back. Partially successful – I managed to find the Trace Parkway, but not a way back onto it. Just overpasses under it. I pulled over near the Parkway, where there was cell coverage and found a route back to Shady Grove. I took the ‘short cut’ and was on it before realizing it was dirt. Still, confidence was high and I rode on.

Most of it was decent, but it was just a trap. At the end was a very steep hill with paved cross traffic at the bottom. I tried to go down slowly, but the front tire went into some soft sand and Mendy was down. This time with a cracked signal/hand protector. I took off the top case and managed to lift her back up – putting myself on the wrong side of the bike and no way to get my leg over. I don’t think I have ever sweated so much in my life. Very slow pushing and sliding her over far enough to put my leg over and then I clutched/braked her the rest of the way with the engine off. Climbing back up to retrieve the top case and gear, I slipped and nearly fell all 3 times. I suppose in retrospect, I didn’t have much of a chance. My other choice would have been to just go for it and do all my braking on the pavement. Given the choices and the damage done, I think I am content with the results. 

I finished the Trace and went to the KOA in Nashville. Did my loundry and went next door to eat at the Cock of the Walk. Essentially a Cracker Barrel on steroids. I got the sampler platter – all deep fried. Catfish was delicious, the shrimp wasn’t bad. I would pass on the chicken and hush puppies.

Went to hide in the tent early to hide from the bugs.  Couldn’t really stop sweating, so ended up falling asleep a nasty combination of sticky and slimy.  I didn’t shower once for the entire first week of this trip and didn’t feel as gross as I do now after one day.  Although, it’s possible that the BMW Rallye3 Suit has picked up a little bit of grime.

And to top it off, I woke up a little before 2am last night to the tent smacking me in the head again.  I opened my eyes to flashing white lights.   Lots of lightning, but no thunder.  At first.

I got up anyway, checked the stuff out by the picnic table and Mendy before pegging out the tent in case it did rain.  Good thing too, since as soon as I got back inside the tent, it started to rain.  Raindar basically showed I was surrounded by systems.

It did rain that night and packing up a wet tent sucks.  I think if it had actually still been raining in the morning, i would’ve just sucked it up and waited it out.  The campsite was free, after all.  So asian of me… I was so confused trying to figure out how to pay for the site the previous night and so thrilled to find out it wouldn’t cost anything…

Still, I had a nice chat with the old folks in the campground – only other occupied site when I arrived.   He and his wife used to ride around the country on Goldwings with a trailer.  He misses it dreadfully but at 75, his knees couldn’t keep the bike upright anymore.

As I got on the bike, the Trace was a very welcome scene.  Cool(27C), no traffic, blue skies.  All was right with the world.  The tent is just a place to sleep – on this trip, the bike is ‘home’.  Very grateful and happy to be where I was this morning.

Otherwise, the ride to Memphis was uneventful.  Once off the trace along 78, it started warming up.  Interstate straights with road work made me long for the greenery and slower pace of the Trace.   It climbed to 35C by the time I got to the motel.  Only bit of interest was the highway signs reminding me to be careful – 69 motorcycle fatalities so far.

After checking in, I went to Gus’s Fried Chicken.  I went all out and ordered the deep fried pickles to start, a half chicken (all 4 pieces) and their sweet tea.

Very good fried chicken.  Tender and moist all the way through, nice crispy skin.  Overall, more subtle than Coop’s, but a little more traditional “fried” taste.   Even better with hot sauce and ranch, although I hesitate when I consider how much food I’m cramming down my gullet when I do that.

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I basically ate myself sick.  Forced the coleslaw down, since I need the ‘veggies’.  Not a big fan, I think they add sugar or something to it.   Barely touched the beans.  The plan was to pack some of it for ‘later’.  This technique has been fairly hit and miss – anything good enough, I just scarf it down and just feel sick instead.

I limped over towards the river and sat under a tree for a while.

Then headed back to check out the Gibson factory.  Wall o’ Gibons!

Unfortunately, the tour was sold out.  I went across the street to the Rock ‘n Soul museum instead.  Interesting mix of movie, memorabilia and old tracks.  Kind of made me wish I could actually purchase some music and set up for the road.  Gift shop only sells CDs and I have no way of converting that to something useful.

Back out to Beale St at night – live music at the park.

Nightlife!  Orderly compared to 6th Street.  Police barricades and ID checks on the streets for the street party.  But from speaking to the locals, it sounds like it’s Saturday that’s crazy.  Friday nights are quite laid back.

Dinner at Blues City Cafe.  These were probably the most classic of the ribs I’ve had so far.  Decent smoke, caramelized sauce.  Very good, solid meal.  But not something I’ll miss.

BB King All Stars for music, dancing and drinks.

Took a bit of wandering, but I eventually found the Visitor Center for the Natchez Trace .  Google Maps kept sending me to the one of the sites and the NPS one is combined with the city Visitor Center.  Not the most intuitive, but I did manage to get my map and stamps.

This is one of the historic buildings I got a stamp for… Didn’t really feel like getting off to do the tour.  Way too hot.

And the other stamp – Melrose.  Legacy of some wealthier plantation times in Natchez.     Beautiful grounds.

The Natchez Trace Parkway s a green way along the old Trace.  Fairly shaded, very pretty, no billboards(or services, for that matter).  A very much welcome change of pace from running along the Interstates.   But it does feel very manicured and artificial. At time, the farms and ‘real life’ behind the scenes pokes through, ruining the illusion.   Don’t get me wrong, it was still much appreciated, but I think I have to admit that the type of trip has changed from the west.

I mean, this is a stop.  Emerald Mound, 2nd biggest Mound in the USA.  It was used for ceremonial purposes for the Indians…  But it’s still just a big manmade grassy hill. And the other mounds are even worse – they’ve been hit by erosion so they’re just fields now.

Oldest surviving building in the area.  Day’s walk up from Natchez itself, from before the steamships and the ability for boats to go upstream and the sailors “kaintucks” had to walk up the Trace to get home.

Another must see – the Sunken Trace, where erosion has put the path below ground level.  Makes me think of ambushes and hopefully scenes in Assassin’s Creed 3.

At Rock Springs – this is one of the stops on the tour.  It’s hard not to make comparisons between an empty postal office safe with a sign mentioning how little traffic this town got with the wonders of the National Parks out west.   I mean, rusting old safe, or hoodoo in Bryce Canyon?

Reservoir Outlook – reminds me a little of Yellowstone Lake.

I suppose this is the major difference between a National Park and a National Historic Park.  Perhaps I am cynical, but the natural wonders, we might not know very miuch about, but they stand for themselves.   This historic stuff, they seem to be trying their darnedest to attach significance to it – and not very successfully.  The Trace is fairly unique in the park system anyway, or so I’m told.   Hopefully the Northern half is better.

Fried chicken at Coop’s.  Very tasty.  Thin crispy skin with an excellent mix of herbs.  Somehow reminding me of something between fried and oven roasted.

I’m using my camp chair to wait for the fireworks.  Facing up the hill was a bit of a challenge.

Fireworks – what they lack in variety and subtlety, the Americans made up for it with size and volume.  Car alarm triggering levels.  And since they were dueling barges, everything happened twice.  As usual, even the prepared people didn’t bring radios, so I have no idea how well it went with the music.

Back to St Pierre’s for the night.  I had considered going out and roaming around Bourbon Street.  I seriously considered a ‘Hand Grenade’ – the strongest drink in New Orleans.  But there is a “trifecta” – Hand Grenade, Hurricane and something else.  Certainly not something I wanted to try to do and ride the next day. I guess I’ll save the drinking in New Orleans for another trip.

A quick blast on the 90 put me into New Orleans.  Getting off the highway and turning into the French Quarter was a nice change.  Checking into St Pierre was a good throwback into checking into places while travelling Europe.  Nowhere near as nice as the pictures.

The clerk sent me to Desire for lunch.  A little more expensive than I was expecting, but since that included a $10 drink, it wasn’t too bad.  Research into places on Chowhound afterwards did say it was a place the ‘locals’ went to, even if it was mostly for oysters in the half shell.  I had the ‘Peacemaker’ – half oyster and half a shrimp po’boy.  Delicious, but mostly because of the bread.

Deep fried goodness on very good bread.

Dinner was another sandwich and drinks at Napolean House – A place designed to house the exiled Emperor, but never used.  They apparently make the best muffaletta sandwiches and Pimm’s Cup drinks.

I thought the sandwich was a little dry – could have used more olive salad.

Finishing off the evening with some live music on Frenchmen Street @ Maison.  After the very disappointing scene on 6th Street, this was a nice change of pace.  Drinks were a little expensive and the band worked for tips.  I’d probably try a little more venue hopping the next time.

Everyone said to spend Independence Day in a big city.  I had reservations for July 3rd, so I had a to kill.  With all the wildlife preservers and managed areas, I thought the Bayou would be a good place to check out and find a place to camp for the night.  I should have booked a boat tour or a fishing charter.  Would have been time better spent.

Unfortunately, all in all, a bit of a failure of a day.  First mistake was taking the 90 – it pretty much runs the same route as the I-10, but closer to the railroad tracks on smaller roads.  Just as straight, but slower.  This may have been a good thing, since for whatever reason, I had the same issue as riding in LA.  I could not keep my eyes open – allergies/pollution?  I ended up pulling over a lot.

At least off the major highways, I got to go through a bunch of different neighbourhoods.  A good mix of really nice properties and houses.  TV show nice – manicured with people actively tending the lawns.  As well as lots overgrown with vegetation and signs for sale or lease.

With my eyes burning, I pulled over and had lunch was at Popeye’s – the other half of the Church’s Chicken supply chain.  I figured Louisiana would be a best place since it started here.   I’d say it was better than Church’s in San Antonio.

About the only ‘success’ of the day was putting on rain gear in time.  I saw wet cars with their wipers on coming the other way just before a drawbridge.  Pulled over to put on the gear just as it started to drizzle.   Crossing the bridge put me directly into the thundershower.   Crazy wet – but the gear worked, I stayed dry!  At least, for a while.   Eventually, I just sweat like crazy into the suit itself.   Similar levels of discomfort.  HIgher gross factor.

Riding around the Bayou really isn’t the way to see it either.  I get the feeling that the roads are on ‘stable’ ground, so fairly far from the ever shifting coastline.  Not a whole lot to see and not many bends.  There was a few fun bits just before 57 turns into 56, but generally not much to see.

As the afternoon wore on, I figured I should find a place to camp.  Google failed me again, although I’m starting to be able to see the pattern.  If Google doesn’t link to reviews from other sites, it’s probably not a good sign.  I did a few loops around the Mainstay Inn driving to various RV and Trailer parks before giving up and booking a room.

But since I was in a suite, I had a small kitchenette.  I managed to save a few bucks by eating my camp food.  Sardines, spam, instant noodles, beef jerky.

Another late start – but since this was from sleeping until my 9am alarm, it was probably much needed rest.  The maids weren’t too thrilled, but I guess on a lazy, wet Sunday, no one was in a rush to go anywhere.

Weather was pretty bleak.  When I first stuck my head out the door, it was hot and sunny, but it didn’t take long to cloud over.

Weather channel said pretty much nothing but hot weather.  Wunderground said 40% chance of thundershowers.  I sat on the fence, repacked my bags to get quick access to rain jacket and gloves, but actually put on booties and gortex overalls.  I should have gone all the way…  pulling over at the next exit is too long in these thundershowers… Now I was damp and marinading in a rain suit.  Could barely see the car in front…. traffic slowed to 30mph.

Things cleared up by Galveston.  I drove by Pleasure Pier, bit decided to eat before exploring.  Yelp suggested Benno’s and I opted for the deep fried.

I got through maybe half of it before the servers started clearing the outside condiments due to risk of rain.  I packed the rest and hopped back on the bike.

Quick trip along the shore road and looped past the ‘pay’ park.  On my way out, I decided to check out the ferry.  Gas light came on, so I took the chance to ask clerk about the ferry.  He said it was free and wouldn’t take long.

Listening was an experience.  Long hot lines with people feeding the seagulls.  Do not feed the birds you asshats!  Just waiting in line I got pooped on 3 times.

The ferry ride itself wasn’t much better.  I got stuck at the end of the line to fill a column… and the back is naturally where the ferry people tell people to fees the damn birds.  I would have ducked into the passenger area, but as I was getting ready to get off, I could feel Mend sway with the boat.  With all the extra weight, it felt outright scary.  So now I was watching the birds hover and really hoping they would poop on one of the feeders and praying Mend wouldn’t tip over.
Worst feeling ever was the ferry tapping against the dock.  Nearly peed myself.

On the other side, I got to see entire neighborhoods on stilts.  Houses built on sand.  Most of the motels looked like they didn’t even have windows to weather storms better…  still probably a gorgeous place to live when it’s nice.

I was now soaked in rain and sweat- both the temperature and nervous stuff.  Not to mention exhausted and not sure where to go.  Stopped at a Denny’s to grab some coffee, where the girls kept giving me a hard time about not eating.

Raindar seemed to show that east was a better bet, so I went by Port Arthur, Bridge City before settling in Fenton for a camp site.  Stopping to take a picture of the giant bridges, a random guy in a truck stopped to ask if I was okay.  Got to chatting about the MTS 1200 vs the FJR 1300.  He apparently really wanted the Duc, but couldn’t keep it under 90 on the test ride and decided he was too immature.  Wise beyond his years.

Had a nice chat with Hubert, the owner about politics and life in general.

Random tune of the day: Lovefool – The Cardigans