Natchez Ride - Sept 2009

September 5-6, 2009
778 miles








I have enjoyed reading Greg Iles for years. His protagonist, Penn Gage, is a former Houston Asst. D.A. who returns to his hometown of Natchez, MS and becomes embroiled with all kinds of bad guys and good women. The stories are cracking good but his love for, and descriptions of, Natchez, Mississippi is captivating. Finding myself with a long weekend and a need for new places and roads, I decided to check it out.

Pulled out for Natchez about 1:30pm after my Saturday morning golf game. This trip meant more of the hated I-10 slab, with the further "benefit" of the very much hated US165N just east of Lake Charles. Why hate that road? Well...it's the road to the Coushatta Casino in Kinder, La and a favorite speed trap for Louisiana law enforcement. Go 'head. Ask me how I know. Answer: I've been on that stretch of road three previous times and got busted twice. Yeah, twice. Fool me once...etc. Anyway...creeping along at the posted speed limit (for a change) I managed to get past Kinder and pushed on up to Alexandria. Where I took US28E joining US84 (an old friend from many trips) west of Jonesville, La.

What I didn't know on those three previous trips up US165 was that Louisiana law prescribes 55 mph speed limits for all two-laned roads, unless otherwise posted. I didn't know that because the two cops who ticketed me previously didn't do me the courtesy of explaining the laws I had broken, indeed, fractured, on those occasions. The nice young Highway Patrolman who stopped me on US28 about half way between Holloway and Walters was kind enough to explain it to me. He further explained that if I held it down to 63mph I could probably skate on any of those roads. The speed at which he clocked me, however, was, in his words, pushing just a little too much. (Actually, he used the term "flat out, but that's not the case, Betsy will run like a scalded dog.) I mentioned he was a nice young fellow, didn't I? He was, he wrote me for less after giving me a warning. A service for which I profusely thanked him. I now have received four speeding tickets in my life and three of them were written in central-by-God, coon-assed Louisiana!!! I'm thinking of 1) never entering the state again, or 2) making sure Bobby J. is with me...nothing sticks to that guy (see JLB ride blog).

Weathering the rain (hehe) in Beaumont, and again just before pulling into Natchez about 8:00pm, I found accommodations easily (Quality Inn - $61/night) and settled in for a post-ride shower. As in the past, I find it difficult to appropriately describe the post-ride shower. The word sublime comes to mind. Along with nourishing, enervating, comforting...the warmth of a mother's embrace. It's really pretty special. I worry I will one day fall to sleep,and down, and drown in a post-ride shower. There are worse ways to go!

It was still sprinkling when I pried myself from the shower and I didn't wish to ride in it so I covered Betsy and walked over to the Mexican restaurant next door to the hotel. I ordered the required giant glass of water to try to re-hydrate myself after a day in the sun and wind. The waitress found me the largest mug I think I've ever seen, and filled it with water, earning herself extra consideration at the end of the meal. A couple of those with a couple of Dewar's on the rocks fixed me up. Went back to the hotel and studied up on Natchez, preparing for a good morning ride, hoping to dodge the predicted thunderstorms the Weather Channel seemed to take so much delight in telling me about.

Up fairly early and riding around a beautiful old city. Natchez was two years old when New Orleans was founded in 1718. It is the start of the famous Natchez Trace, used for thousands of years as the primary geologic connection to central Tennessee and Kentucky, and, from there, to New England. Architecture of the city is everywhere, Greek, Roman, Greek-revival, Federal, you name it, they got it. At least that's what one of the brochures implied. Me? They're just neat old homes to this ol' boy.


This is a bed-and-breakfast conversion of one of the older mansions in the city.










There are big ones and smaller ones. Interestingly, according to some of the data I picked up, many are still occupied by member of the original families...some dating back to the early 1800s.




Greek (I think)












Don't know...but I like lattice work and the "French-Quarter" look.












This reminds one of the "Widow's Walks" Captain's houses one sees in the coastal towns in Massachusetts.










This one is spectacular. It is called Dunleith. Built in 1856, it sits on huge grounds, surrounded by beautiful oaks.

There are several others that rival it in majesty but a guy can only look at so many houses without serious damage to Y-chromosomes. Ya gotta stop somewhere. I chose here. But not without checking out an interesting area immediately across the street.

This view took me immediately to 'Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil.' I knew I wasn't in Charleston ...but there was this Kevin Spacey-looking guy walking by....

Isn't that moss great? Imagine walking into this area around midnight during a half-moon evening.


Unsurprisingly, full of dead people. But I didn't see them.











Finished with house-seeking, I head back into the old town and look for the Mississippi River. Not difficult to find, even without GPS. You just sorta head west from anywhere.

Pulling up to the top of the bluff I immediately discern I have found the Mississippi river.

Iles usually has a tugboat or barge somewhere in the story, either threatening running over a character stranded on the river, or from which one may be thrown.






Looking down and to the left I see a road leading downward to the infamous Natchez-Under-The-Hill. This is where the riverboat docks were...and the gambling halls...and the bars...and the prostitutes...and all the ingredients to an interesting, if not altogether, wholesome evening...even unto this day.

If my historic memory serves, Jim Bowie once stuck a fellow down there with his famous knife.





As you can see, the gambling and gamboling continues...for some. Not old guys though. I motored off as quickly as I could, saving money for later trips. I have it on good authority not one casino, whether boat or building, has ever been built on a winner.



Last stop in Natchez, the city cemetery and the famous Turning Angel.


One of Greg Iles books is 'Turning Angel.' His latest, 'The Devil's Punchbowl' has action centered around this site as well. Rather macabre character, our author.

Local mythology has it that at night the statue turns giving the same perspective regardless of the side from which you view her.








Another "view."














It's not true in the daytime. Caught her looking the other way here. (But I had to sneak a little to do it....you ever try to sneak on a 1700cc V-twin?)





Pulled out of Natchez, crossing the Mississippi back into that wonderful investment opportunity, Louisiana. Had breakfast in Vidalia (may be kin to an onion in Georgia...or named after a former Spanish governor...pick the one you like), then headed back toward Alexandria passing, yet again, the site of yet another "market" loss of sorts.

Took I-49S at Alexandria with gumbo on my mind. Two miles out of Lafayette, I pull into Prejean's, a locally famous Cajun restaurant.


This is one of the favorite places of my friends, Leonard and Donna. Mine, too. It sort of gets short shrift from a lot of Louisianans in the area when asked, but I keep seeing them packing the place every time I stop in. And I stop in fairly often...especially since the site of the best, and I mean absolute BEST gumbo in world, Robin's in Henderson, La, closed last year. (The news media has been horribly remiss in reporting this catastrophic event.)

Given the demise of Robin's I would rank Prejeans a good third, following Landry's in New Orleans, and the new leader in the clubhouse, Jimmy G's in Houston. That's the Jimmy G's over by the Greenspoint shopping center off Beltway 8. It matters. The lady that makes the roux has been doing it for over twenty-five years...and experience matters where roux is concerned.



This guy greets you when you come in the door. I don't know the length, but he's the largest gator I've ever seen in my life, and I'm from Florida.







Had a cup of coffee and a bowl of gumbo and headed west toward Spring, TX. I would have stayed out and gone elsewhere but I've managed to shoot some fairly good golf (for me) during the last two or three rounds so I think a trip to Memorial, my favorite local course is in order for tomorrow.

Nice trip...be back next time.


Post-script: I should have stayed on the road. I putt like young people make love: often and poorly.

Lost Maples Trip - Day 2

Lost Maples & Home - November 27, 2008 - 416 miles

Woke to dense fog, not the sort of stuff you want to ride in if you can help it. And I could. Where am I? San Antonio. Okay, no prob, when in San Antonio there's only one thing to do, go to Jim's for a chili and eggs breakfast, my favorite breakfast of all time. And, as always, Jim's didn't let me down. By the time I'd finished my breakfast the fog had lifted. And that's what happened. It didn't burn off, it lifted.

So, west on US16W toward Bandera I go, laid back, pipes grumbling contentedly in the morning air, rising ever so slightly up the Balcones Escarpment. Did I say rising? Where did that fog go? Oh yeah, up. Shortly after passing through a spot in the road named Pipe Creek the fog rejoined me and we went into Bandera together. Fortunately, it was Thanksgiving morning and I gave thanks for little or no traffic on the road this morning. Gassed up in Bandera and headed out as the fog continued to lift. By the time I took Hwy470W just outside of Bandera the fog was gone and I was left with a great ride.

The Balcones Escarpment is a geological fault running from Del Rio to Waco, the remains of the Ouachita mountains formed something like 300 million years ago by the collision of two contental shelfs. (How do they know the name if it happened 300 million years ago?)

Long since eroded away, the remnants of these ancient mountains still exist, buried below thousands of feet of sediment yielding a mere 1200 feet rise in the surface between the flat drain plain that is eastern Texas and the Edwards Plateau. The years of wind and water erosion have yielded wonderful little valleys and hewn cliffs of white limestone where the creeks have cut their way through. They, essentially, mark, in my mind, the beginning of the "west." What this means in biker terms is twisty roads and rocky ups and downs that make for a very pleasant ride early in the morning.

Turned north on US187 just north of Utopia (so close, yet so far away), riding through Vanderpool, Texas and then, six miles up the road, into the Lost Maples Natural Area.



Too late for the fall color changes, the maples have lost more than their hew, they're virtually "nakid." But that's okay. The journey is the reward and the place is pretty. Worth a stop in the spring when things are greening up.














Clear water pools.














Clear water rocks.













More clear water rocks.















This fits one of my continuing themes, the tenacity of life. I'm amazed at the places where life has taken hold and refuses to let go. Perhaps it's easier when there is no alternative. Perhaps we should all grasp that salient point?











When I mentioned the nice ride on Hwy407 to Vanderpool, one of the rangers in the park entrance mentioned that the ride on Hwy337 to Leakey was even better. Well, of course, that's about all it takes, off toward Leakey I go.



There are a lot of tree-lined roads out here. I'm looking forward to coming back when everything is new and green. Has to be a pretty ride.










Can you say escarpment?












How's this for a neat little valley?










Turned around and took Hwy337 back to Hwy187N, past the Lost Maple park entrance and on to Hwy39. The ride on Hwy39 through to Hunt is a great little ride. Lots of twisties, and turns, with the Guadalupe river switching sides of the road schizophrenically along the route.






On the left














On the right











Evidently, the Department of Transportation engineer for this region is a lady. "I think the Guadalupe would look great over there on the left...no, wait, over here to the right...oh, I don't know, perhaps over here on the right."

Whatever the reason it's a great little ride.

Reaching Kerrvile I stopped for gas and gizzards. God, I love Texas. The little restaurant at the gas station had a special on deep fried chicken gizzards. Don't tell my cardiologist, but I had two orders.

Got on I-10 in Kerrville and headed east to Houston. And that's about all you can say about that. The weather was a little overcast, with some showers off to the east, but they missed me. Got home about 6:00p.m., once again, sad to see the end of yet another trip.

Lost Maples Trip - Day 1

A friend at work, knowing I liked to take motorcycle trips, told of this little jewel early this year. Lost Maples State Natural Area is near Vanderpool, Texas, northwest of San Antonio. Needing some new road and views, I determined to check it out this weekend. The fact that it meant going through San Antonio, one of my favorite cities, and my most favorite breakfast, had something to do with the decision. Okay, a lot to do with the decision.

I planned to go to Big Bend National Park after visiting Lost Maples, but the weather forecast for the Houston area promised rain and much colder temperatures on Saturday and Sunday (my intended return dates). My appetite for riding in the cold and rain was whetted on July 28th, 2006 in the Yukon territory. Discretion being the better part of valor, I opted to make it a quick, two-day trip to Lost Maples only. Hence, a mini-miler.

Trip Out - Wednesday, November 26, 2008 - 284 miles
Pulled out from home about 10:00a.m. heading south and west. My destination for today is San Antonio, only about a three and one-half hour ride down the slate path. But, as you know, I don't like the slate path very much, so I took the Sam Houston Parkway to US59S, turning on Alt. 90W through Richmond and Rosenberg. Other than avoiding the interstate my goal was to "collect" some more Texas courthouses.

For the uninitiated the period 1870-1910 represents the hayday of Texas courthouses. The civil war had ended, the economy came back and the people of Texas were anxious to demonstrate their prosperity. As is usual in this state of super egos and highly competitive people, it often came down to a contest between the counties to see who could design and build the most impressive courthouses. We are the beneficiaries of that competition, many of these old jewels having been restored over the past twenty years or so. So, after stumbling on the Donley County CH on my return from my Alaska trip in 2006, I sort of became hung up on these architectural marvels. Plus...it's a good excuse for a ride. Round up another courthouse? Yeah, okay, suit up Betsy, you're goin' in.




My 'first' courthouse - Donley County CH, Clarendon, Texas.
(Click to enlarge)
















Old Ft. Bend County CH - Richmond, TX










Other than staying off the slab, my intent was to see the newly restored courthouse in Wharton, Texas. I happened across a local TV documentary on, of all things, Texas courthouses, and it stressed this latest renovation.


I missed my turn off for Hwy60 into Wharton, yet another "music by lane" incident where I'm into my headphones and not my GPS. Okay, feces occurs. Turned out to be one of those little serendipitous moments. I noticed a little "loop" exit onto this small county road (CR229), almost immediately past the intended turn. Upon taking the loop I see this little dilapidated building with the front roof sagging sadly.










Betsy contemplating the current economic conditions adjacent to the CR229 "Chamber of Commerce," near Wharton, TX.












Managed to find the newly restored Wharton County Courthouse in, can you believe it, downtown Wharton, Texas.





Wharton County CH - Wharton, TX









But, missing the turn was not to be the last of my GPS dilemmas. I don't know about the rest of you, but I need some remedial GPS work. I pick towns as way points and the bloody thing routes me right downtown. I realize this is logical, but then, when I get there it keeps turning me (is it just me?) 'round and around pointing me back to the center of town. This is especially true if I don't "go there," I merely wanted to be routed on the road "by there." In any event, on leaving the Wharton County CH, with the GPS screaming silently at the top of her lungs (I don't use the audio, but it has to be a shrew, doesn't it?), I manage to take the wrong road out of town and started navigating up small country roads, wending my way back toward Alt 90. This yielded the second serendipitous moment of the trip.





Leaving Wharton, I cross the Colorado River.











A few turns down some rather obscure county roads and I find Hwy 71 a major (for out here) artery. A few miles up 71 and I'm presented with the little town with a huge inferiority complex, Nada, Texas. Although, one must admit, the name pretty much summarized the surroundings.

I join Alt 90 just west of Eagle Lake and head west for Hallettsville.






Lavaca County CH - Hallettsville, TX
"They take 'em frozen down at Hallettsvile, they don't take them alive."

Questions:
1. What is the source of the quote?
2. What are the frozen things?
3. And what do they do with them?





I take Hwy77 out of Hallettsville to Cuero, TX.







De Witt County CH - Cuero, TX









I took US87W out of Cuero, heading for San Antonio. I pulled into the motel about 5:00p.m., took one of those great hot ride showers I owe you a description of, lounged around a little and took off for Helotes, Texas, on Bandera Highway. (That sounds like it ought to be a song, doesn't it? If Ventura Highway gets one, Bandera Highway should too.)

What's in Helotes? Why the John T. Floore Country Store, of course.



John T Floore Country Store- Helotes, TX
(Link)









"John T. Floore was workin' with the Klu Klux Klan.
At six foot five John T was a hell of a man,
Made a lot of money sellin' sheets on the family plan"

Willie Nelson, 'Shotgun Willie'

We lived in the area in 1975-78 and again in 1980-82, and this was my favorite place. We used to come out and see Willie Nelson and a passel of country artists. When Willie talks about the early days and playing behind a chicken-wire screen to keep from getting hit with beer bottles when the fights broke out, he was talking about Floore's CS.






At least inflation hasn't hit John T's. The fine was the same in '75.






I seem to remember a sub-text that said, "Starting or Finishing." But that could have been just local ad libbing.

Best tamales on the planet, bar none. Great sausage sandwiches and my luck held out again. No tamales, no sausage sandwiches tonight. Tonight was steak night. Steak night? What? If I wanted a steak I'd ride down Scenic Loop Road about six miles and have one of the best steaks in Texas at the Grey Forest Inn. Steak? This is Floore's, I want tamales, beer, and sausage sandwiches. But, as the song says, "If wishes were a fast train to Texas, we'd all take a ride." Time changes everything...and not necessarily for the best.

So, I walk in the door, determine there's no big name playing tonight and step center stage into a love story. Can my luck get any "better" that this tonight?

As I take a couple of paces into the room I see this pretty young lady, one hand to her mouth, a look of surprise and amazement on her face, and, dare I say it, fear in her eyes. Suddenly, flashes are popping like strobes all over the place drawing my eyes toward this large crowd of people standing in a semi-circle around her. Then I, finally, notice a rather large young man on one knee in front of her. And there I am with a stupid look on my face wondering why all these people are taking pictures of me, while they, of course, are muttering to themselves, "Why doesn't that stupid, fat old fart get the hell out of my picture?"

Yeah, you got it, he's proposing to her. As my steel trap clanks reluctantly shut I jump to the side, take a couple of quick strides toward the bar, and order a beer, observing to a couple of guys standing there, and the waitress returning with my beer, that they had just witnessed the first step to divorce. The waitress, as I'm sure are all you ladies reading this, furrowed her brows unfavorably, and said something like, "No, no...don't say that." Hey, ladies...it's an even money bet. Check the statistics.

The newly entrapped
...I mean engaged...
couple.











(She's on the phone...dare you show surprise...telling Grandma.)





To accommodate "steak night" there are tables throughout the interior. This is usually the dance floor.





If a local, or a not so famous band, they play inside. We allowed it took three laps to qualify if doing the two-step.

If the band is a big one...and they still have them...they play outside on the patio. The patio will hold about five thousand folks. But, things change here too. I guess they didn't want to share what could be sold so they've surrounded the patio with a ten foot high tin fence. Not like the old days. It used to be surrounded by a three-strand barb-wire fence. I remember the girls used to get really pissed off (pun intended) because they had to go stand in line to use the bathroom. The guys just turned around and let fly outside the fence. Hmmmm, thirty years of urine...perhaps that's why the fence was put up. After a couple of beers I couldn't smell anything. Then, or tonight.

The answer to the questions about Halletsville:
1. What is the source of the quote? 'The Armadillo' - Robert Earl Keen
2. What are the frozen things? Armadillos
3. And what do they do with them?
"Walking belts and neckties, and boots for rodeos,
They don't run too fast, or waste much gas,
I'm makin' lots of dough."

Tomorrow: Lost Maples.

Mini Milers

I have blogged about all my longer motorcycle trips, but, until now, never for the short one-to-three days trips I often take. These vary only in destinations. In all I'm looking for a bluebonnet, a new Texas court house, a certain breakfast...something. But all have a common denominator, road. I love road.

This blog will be used to document these little "mini-milers." Don't know what I'll see, or what I'll say, but I'll describe it...or confess it...here.