Travels with Jake – 2012
Chapter 12
Mississippi & Alabama Gulf Coast Mar 17-20
Leaving Hammond, Louisiana, still just a stone's throw from New Orleans, we spent a bit of morning freeway time and were soon over the state line into Mississippi. With a fairly short coastline, we thought we might drive along the beach and end up in Alabama that night. “I'm Alabammy Bound” kept playing in my head, but our first impressions of Mississippi (nice roads, no litter) made us think it might be worth a closer look! Big signs lured us off to the elaborate welcome centre where by chance we parked between two RVs from Nova Scotia – two sisters and their husbands travelling together. Jake did his usual ice-breaking routine of dropping sticks on their toes and before long after chatting for a bit, we were being invited to see them in NS. I'd heard about Maritime hospitality before, but never before had I received an invitation to visit at someone's house before they even knew my first name! Yes, it was nice to hang out with Canadians again. Unlike us, they actually had done a bit of research and had a Plan. It seemed there was a State Park down on the beach at that had recently re-opened after its disappearance during Katrina, and these fun folks invited us to join them there. Good idea, we thought, as we needed a day at the beach after our spell of Big City, but first we had to collect the obligatory armload of brochures from the info centre. The place was all shiny and new, beautifully landscaped and well equipped to make us feel welcome. It's that way because everything is new around here and they are trying to kick-start their tourism economy again. The eye of Katrina had passed right through here six years ago and before-and-after aerial photos showed the incredible extent of the damage done. Like Louisiana, this part of Mississippi is low and flat and 20-30 feet of seawater moving inland was not to be stopped. Whereas in New Orleans the tide simply came up over the houses after the levees broke, in this area open to the ocean, the water not only rose but moved fast with breaking surf, so the devastation was absolute. The name of this town is Waveland – how prophetic! As we drove along the beach towards the campground, the locals were all setting up their camp chairs and tailgate parties to watch the St. Patrick's Day parade soon to come just behind us. Behind them, and all along the beach we noticed many, many driveways to nowhere. A few houses had survived and were rebuilt, and just now some brave souls are building new ones, but mostly all that was left after the hurricane were foundations and concrete steps to porches that once were. It was depressing to think of the many families ruined. Waterfront lots are going cheap, but flood insurance will cost you upwards of $17k per year, so about a third of the community has simply moved away. The campground, like everything around here, is new. Essential equipment like generators are mounted on platforms over 20' high, as are any new houses being built in the area. The campsite ranger lost his home and his job after Katrina, and his nurse wife lost her hospital – gone! They lived in a FEMA trailer for 5 years. Another lady we spoke to related how they had no power for 2-3 months, in mid-summer when it was hot hot hot, and the bugs just about drove them nuts. Individually, they lost much more than the average New Orleans resident, but never received the same media attention or recovery funding. ShowBiz is everything in this country.
We are keeping ahead of tourist season so the campsite was not crowded and Jake had plenty of space for games, and the friendly warden turned a blind eye. We had some fun with our new pals at the beach, over happy hour drinkies, and at a night out at the casino down the road. I lost my annual $2, so that's it for my gambling this year. Jake still hasn't learned to keep his throat shut while swimming so was a bit off his game for a day being full of salt water and sand, but he sure had fun. Heather saw inside our friend's new-to-them spacious A-class rig which caused her 2-foot-itis to flare up again, so we had to talk about that for awhile while driving along the beach eastward when we left. Gulfport is just that – a supply port for the oil-rigs offshore. The entire coast of Mississippi is one long white sandy beach, and apart from some grey discolour right at the tide-line, there is very little evidence of the BP spill. I did find a few lumps of tar, but it was hardly enough to dissuade one from taking a dip in the warm Gulf water. The wind is predominately onshore so mini-dunes of sand blow across the highway, but it is a very pleasant drive. Biloxi has lots of big casinos, but my two bucks was already gone, so we pressed on and stopped at Jefferson Davis' last home called Beauvoir. Jeff was the first, last, and only president of the Confederacy, and after two years imprisonment after the War, he retired to this waterfront home as the guest of its southern belle owner. Every other southerner was offered the return of their US citizenship after the Civil War, but the North, understandably piqued about Davis being the major architect and leader of the CSA, refused to grant him citizenship again. Nevertheless, he retained the respect and admiration of most southerners. He eventually bought Beauvoir and there he wrote his memoirs. It was later converted and expanded to accommodate ageing CSA veterans, several hundred of which are buried in the back 40. Katrina didn't know all this, so she blew a large portion of the roof off and pushed the furniture around a bit, but it has been mostly restored now.
Having had our history fix for the day, we pressed on to Alabama, sticking to the coast as much as possible. Mobile is located near the head of a large bay, but wanting to avoid unnecessary cities, we opted to take the ferry across the mouth of the bay. A meandering rural road took us to Dauphin Island, site of historic Fort Gaines that together with Fort Morgan on the opposite shore tried to prevent the Union gunboats from getting at Mobile. Damn, there's that history again, and I thought we were through for the day! Surprises always await the traveller equipped with only a dumb-phone, so how could we have known that the ferry was broken down and awaiting parts? Still, had we known, would we have made the trip anyway? Other bemused motorists that had made the futile trip comforted each other, as some were more able to roll with the punches than others, but a bit of eye-contact and a chat has got to be more healing than a text message, don't you think? Never mind, it gave us an opportunity to see Mobile by Motorway. Saw a stunning tall building capped with a space-age lattice, saw the big WWII battleship at a distance, and rolled across the causeway to Spanish Fort, where we once again enjoyed dinner and a sleep at Cracker Barrel.
Like its western neighbour, this state is quite narrow at the coast, and we were determined to have a look at the Miami of Alabama, Gulf Shores. Not worth it - just a big strip of hotels. We slipped into Florida, just to say we did and to avoid backtracking but Jake was dismayed to learn that he wasn't welcome anywhere on the beach , leashed or not, so I guess they aren't getting any of our tourist dollars! We looped through unremarkable Pensacola then doubled back towards Mobile on I-10 – easy miles. We drove through the narrow streets of historic Mobile with our shoulders hunched in, then soon passed into Mississippi again. Three states makes a long day on the road. Inland Mississippi next. See you there.
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