Greyhound Bussing America [Pt.4]

Mobile, AL to New Orleans, LA. Distance: 143 miles (230 Kms)

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In which, against all the odds, my luck doesn’t run out…

The story so far: Your intrepid correspondent and traveller has been Greyhound Bussing it from New York City to New Orleans. So far he hasn’t been mugged, scammed, abused, or in anyway had experiences that make for great road trip horror stories. It’s all very tame and straight forward really. This is not what I was expecting at all. Everything is actually going to plan! I am on the ‘home stretch’ – Mobile, Alabama to the Crescent City – with just 4.5 hours left to travel.

Now read on…

Time Shift: Somewhere along the road, I gained another hour in my day. In New York City it is now 2.45PM, but in Mobile it is 1.45PM. I’m not sure of exactly when I gained the hour. Maybe it was on entering Alabama. Of course, I should have paid more attention. Two weeks later, returning by air to New York City via Atlanta I missed my scheduled flight after being bamboozled by time zone changes (see Time Travel…). After lunch, during the layover in Mobile, I stepped outside to check out the weather and it was very hot and humid. Nooo! And I thought I’d left all that behind in New York. Sadly, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At 2.15PM we cross into Mississippi, and before long signage along the highway is pointing to a host of locations prefaced with Singing River… Look over there… it’s the Singing River Hospital. And there is the Singing River Animal Hospital. If those health choices aren’t enough you could always visit the Singing River Health System. Need to shop? Then hit the Singing River Mall, etc.

As always, The Great Oracle, Google, has the answers:

… Image: Pascagoula River, Courtesy of Audubon Mississippi Website...

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The Legend of the Singing River

The famous Singing River is known throughout the world for its mysterious music. The singing sounds like a swarm of bees in flight and is best heard in late evenings during late summer and autumn. Barely heard at first, the music seems to grow nearer and louder until it sounds as though it comes directly under foot.

An old legend connects the sound with the mysterious extinction of the Pascagoula Tribe of Indians. Pascagoula means 'bread eaters'. The Pascagoula were a gentle tribe of contented, innocent, and inoffensive people, while on the other hand the Biloxi were a tribe who considered themselves the 'first people' and were enemies of the Pascagoula. Anola, a princess of the Biloxi tribe, was in love with Altama, Chief of the Pascagoula tribe. She was betrothed to a chieftain of her own tribe, but fled with Altama to his people.

The spurned and enraged Biloxi chieftain led his Biloxi braves to war against Altama and the neighboring Pascagoula. The Pascagoula swore they would either save the young chieftain and his bride or perish with them. When thrown into battle the Pascagoula were out-numbered and faced with enslavement by the Biloxi tribe or death. With their women and children leading the way, the Pascagoula joined hands and began to chant a song of death as they walked into the river until the last voice was hushed by the dark, engulfing waters.

Many believe the modern day sound is that of the death song of the Pascagoula tribe. Various hypothetical scientific explanations have been offered for this phenomenon, but none have been proven. [Source: Singing River Website...]

Somewhere off to the left is the Gulf of Mexico. It is now 2.45PM, and I am beginning to feel the effects of the trip. My head feels heavier and keeps losing out to gravity which has the effect of forcing my chin onto my chest! I’m looking forward to that “…nice firm mattress, fine soft pillow, clean fresh sheets and nice warm bed”, I mentioned in Part 2 of this trip report. I’m also hanging out for a hot shower and a real meal – and if I can’t find one of those in New Orleans, I’ve come to the wrong place.

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Image: Biloxi, Mississippi. Note bare house foundations at left of image

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3.10PM: Biloxi, Mississippi

Driving along the seafront between Biloxi and Gulfport, Mississippi you can see vast acres of prime seafront land, empty and overgrown with weeds or uncut lawn. Here and there remains of foundations of destroyed homes poke through the grass. Occasionally, whole concrete floor slabs can be seen. Sometimes the only thing that remains are a set of brick steps leading up to doors and entrance halls that are no longer there. The house whose door they once led to having being destroyed when Hurricane Katrina swept across the Gulf in August 2005. Roads lead nowhere. Derelict homes abound.

I write in my notebook:

There are vacant blocks of land,

Where our houses used to stand.

Torn apart as if by hand of God and thunder.

Right along that eastern shore,

Mother Nature went to war.

When she shredded and she tore the land asunder.

Now they fester there alone,

Full of weeds and over grown.

While we reap what we have sown from our great blunder.

© 2010. Jim Lesses. All Rights Reserved.

New homes, hotels, apartments, and other developments stand out amongst the vacant lots, looking strangely out of place in a sea of green vegetation. ‘For Sale’ signs are everywhere.

At 4.47PM we enter Louisiana, and head down the ‘home straight’ along ‘The Old Spanish Trail’, which leads directly to New Orleans. I’m intrigued by the name and again burn votive offerings to Google, The Great Oracle, but to my amazement, Google returns "About 368,000 results" (in 0.14 seconds, no less) for ‘The Old Spanish Trail’, that links Los Angeles with Santa Fe, Texas, and I am definitely not in Texas.

I can’t believe I have Google stumped, and in a moment of inspiration add the word Mississippi to the search string. Bingo! Yes, folks, it turns out there is another Old Spanish Trail:

Conceived in 1915 as the shortest route between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, the Old Spanish Trail connecting St. Augustine, Florida and San Diego, California, took nearly fifteen years to construct at a cost of more than $80,000.000. Unlike other Southern transcontinental highways that stitched together existing roads across the continent's relatively flat and dry midsection, much of the Old Spanish Trail was forged over formerly impassable swamplands in the Southeast, including five major outlets into the Gulf. [Source: Drive The Old Spanish Trail website...]

My faith in Google restored, I sit awestruck as the I-10 now turns into the longest road bridge I have ever been on, and heads out over the massive expanse of water that is Lake Ponchartrain.

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Image: Lake Ponchartrain as seen through speeding bus window

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Lake Ponchartrain is not a true lake but an estuary connected to the Gulf of Mexico. It is…the second-largest saltwater lake in the United States, after the Great Salt Lake in Utah, and the largest lake in Louisiana. It covers an area of 630 square miles (1630 square km) with an average depth of 12 to 14 feet (about 4 meters). [Source: Wikipedia]

Actually, the section of the I-10 that is over water is only about 5 miles long. If you want to see a really long bridge, the Lake Ponchartrain Causeway at a length of 23.87 miles (38.42 km) has to be seen to be believed. I haven’t travelled over the causeway, but if I ever visit New Orleans again, I would love to drive across it. Heck, it would be worth hiring a car for a day just to drive back and forth over the thing.

And then it is all over. At 5.30PM, right on time, we reach New Orleans. After checking into the Park St. Charles Hotel (where I was delighted to see that “…nice firm mattress, fine soft pillow, clean fresh sheets and nice warm bed”), I walked to the French Quarter for a mixed meal of gumbo, jambalaya, refried beans, rice and a couple of cold beers. The gumbo scored ten out of ten, but the jambalaya wasn’t a patch on the one I had in New York City! But that’s another story.

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Image: The Paddle Steamer Natchez, New Orleans

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So there you have it. According to Google Maps I’ve travelled at total of 1,400 miles, or 2,255 kilometers (give or take a few), and lived to tell the tale.

The big question is, Would I do it all again? The answer is, Yes. In fact, after three nights in New Orleans (which I wrote about here…), I actually considered continuing by bus to Tucson, Arizona (which I’ve also written about). However, I was on a tight schedule, which was getting tighter by the day, and I decided to make the trip to Tucson by plane. After a week in Tucson, I caught busses again to travel up to Flagstaff, Arizona (again without incident), from where I hired a car to visit the Grand Canyon.

After returning the car to Flagstaff, I bussed it back down to Tucson – at which point my luck almost ran out!

But that’s another story, for another day.

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Read The Full Greyhound Bussing America Trip Report:
[Part 1] New York City to Philadelphia, PA…
[Part 2] Philadelphia, PA to Raleigh, NC…
[Part 3] Raleigh, NC to Mobile, AL…
[Part 4] Mobile, AL to New Orleans…
[Part 5] Tips and Advice…
[Part 6] A Final Word…

New Orleans

Image: The paddle wheeler Natchez…

I don’t do humidity well at all, and unfortunately, every time I stepped outside of my New Orleans hotel room at the Parc Saint Charles, that is exactly what I was hit with. A wall of oppressive heat had blanketed the Crescent City, and there was no escaping it if you were going to get out and see anything, so I just had to sweat it out like everyone else and get on with it.

Clearly three nights and days were nowhere near enough to explore this amazing city, but it’s all I had time for. I took a cruise on the Natchez, which is the only true steam driven paddle wheeler still operating out of New Orleans. The two hour cruise, complete with commentary above decks, and a jazz pianist below, takes you some two miles up river to explore some of the more interesting features of the third busiest harbor in America.

Unlike New York harbor, where most merchant ships berth well away from Manhattan, a steady flow of shipping is constantly making its way through New Orleans 150 miles up the Mississippi to Baton Rouge, or some 95 miles back down the shipping lanes to the Gulf of Mexico. Ships can only navigate the river with the assistance of licensed river pilots who are in a sense the direct ‘descendents’ of the old river boat pilots, which once included the author Mark Twain.

From the deck of the Natchez, damage from Hurricane Katrina is still visible along many parts of the shoreline, despite the five years since that storm hit. However, there is little in downtown New Orleans to indicate the extent of the damage the city suffered when the levees gave way in August 2005.

The Superdome, which served as a makeshift shelter for thousands of displaced people is of course fully functional. In fact, in one of those happy serendipitous moments that can occur when you travel a lot, my visit coincided with the start of the National Football League season across North America, and I was soon caught up in the hoopla that surrounded the first game between the New Orleans Saints, and the Minnesota Vikings (for the record, the Saints won 14-9).

This gave me an opportunity to see my first major parade, complete with sports stars, marching bands, an air force flyover, brief performances by Taylor Swift and the Dave Matthews Band, and thousands of celebrating NFL fans.

… Image: Not for the fainthearted, the heat and humidity testing even the fittest…

Of course, I also went looking for some of that famous Cajun cooking New Orleans is famous for. I can definitely say the Gumbo is a real winner, with Jambalaya coming in a close second. I also lunched on a catfish Po-Boy, a large bread roll stuffed with salad and crumbed catfish (with fries on the side).

A po' boy (also po-boy, po boy, or poor boy) is a traditional submarine sandwich from Louisiana. It almost always consists of meat or seafood, usually fried, served on baguette-like Louisiana French bread.

There are countless stories as to the origin of the term po' boy. One theory claims that "po' boy" was coined in a New Orleans restaurant owned by Benny and Clovis Martin, a former streetcar conductor. In 1929, during a four-month strike against the streetcar company, Martin served his former colleagues free sandwiches. Martin’s restaurant workers jokingly referred to the strikers as "poor boys", and soon the sandwiches themselves took on the name. In Louisiana dialect, this is naturally shortened to "po' boy."

[Source: Wikipedia…]

… Image: New Orleans Po-Boy… [source: internet…]

Then there are the famous French pastries that visitors and locals rave about – and the most famous of these are the French-style doughnuts called, Beignets (pron: bin-yay). More than one person told me the best beignets in New Orleans were to be found at the Café Du Monde, and who was I to challenge that?

The original Café Du Monde Coffee Stand, at 800 Decatur Street, was established at the upper end of the New Orleans French Market in 1862. Since then it has been serving its chicory flavored café au lait and French-style beignets 24 hours a day, 7 seven days a week, except for Christmas Day and when "the occasional hurricane passes too close to New Orleans."

Beignets were brought to Louisiana by the Acadians. These were fried fritters, sometimes filled with fruit. Today, the beignet is a square piece of dough, fried and covered with powdered sugar. The French-style doughnuts are served in orders of three at Café Du Monde. [Source: Café Du Monde website…]

I can’t say I was blown away with my first beignet, but by the time I got to my third one I was warming to them in a pleasant sugar high kind of way.

I paid a visit to the Louisiana State Museum on Chartres Street, and enjoyed a look through their extensive exhibitions. Of particular interest was the exhibition Unsung Heroes: The Secret History of Louisiana Rock n Roll, which documents the contribution musicians from Louisiana have made to that genre.

I could write much more, and may return to the topic of New Orleans at a later date, but as I said at the start of this piece, three days is nowhere near enough to even get a decent feel for the city, let alone a good understanding of the people who call it home.