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The weather was absolutely wonderfully perfect for, oh, almost a whole hour. The last thing I remember before the rains came was an old guy loading animals, two-by-two, onto this big wooden boat, see....... Over the next few days, we both became adept at pulling on the rain gear while standing on the shoulder of the road, hopping on one foot, dodging cars and cursing like sailors. Hint No. 1: Never buy raingear one size too small.
If you're not familiar with it, the Natchez Trace is a Federal parkway that extends from Nashville to Natchez, Mississippi, along the route used by settlers and explorers two hundred years ago. Meriweather Lewis (the explorer, of Lewis & Clark fame) died on the Trace. Merchants from the North would float their goods down the Mississippi to Natchez; sell the goods and the boat; and walk home on the Trace.
Anyway, we spent Friday night somewhere south of Tupelo, Mississippi, within a half-mile of the Trace; and we spent Saturday night in Natchez, Mississippi, which is the southern terminus of the Trace, arriving in the rain. Two days of fantastic riding conditions, the rain notwithstanding. Natchez is an old riverboat trading town, directly across the Mississippi River from Vidalia, Louisiana. We arrived in the early afternoon. The main industry in Natchez now appears to be the Lady Luck (not correctly named), a modern but old-looking paddle wheel casino permanently docked in Natchez. Patsy left a suitable contribution to the local economy, while I enjoyed watching the considerable barge traffic plying up and down the Mississippi. The downtown area is being restored to look like the historic riverboat days, and it is worth taking a couple of hours to look it over. Not-so-bright and not-so-early Sunday morning (too much blackjack and Jack Black will do that to ya!), we left Natchez headed south on Highway 61, which is four-lane divided almost all the way from Natchez to Baton Rouge. The Sunday morning traffic was almost non-existent; and the overnight rains had cooled things off considerably. One stop for gas, and we found ourselves in downtown Baton Rouge. (I missed the "alt by-pass" sign). Hint No. 2: Big mistake. Apparently, they haven't cranked up the old paving machine in Baton Rouge in a long, long time. Pot holes almost big enough to swallow me an' Mama and The Hawg. Passed more casinos (they're everywhere in Mississippi and Louisiana), hawgin' through town until we saw the Historic Baton Rouge Waffle House, where I stopped for my Father's Day feast. Well, ok, not exactly 'historic', but definitely a feast. Big rain passed bye while we ate - we finally dodged one! While scarfing down my Father's Day extravaganza (scattered, smothered, and tattooed, I think), I noticed that none of the passing bike riders were wearing helmets. Eureka! No helmet law in Louisiana. Left the Waffle House sans helmets, eastbound towards New Orleans. Went less than a mile before we saw a terrible, terrible t-bone collision between two cars at a redlight, maybe 50 yards in front of us. Patsy's helmet immediately goes back on, she mumbling something about 'helmet hair'. What is that?
Arrived in New Orleans in the early afternoon, but missed the "by-pass" sign again (who's the navigator here?!), and did way yonder too much stop-and-go trafficing in the now-searing heat until we found Canal Street. Stopped in front of the first good looking hotel we came to downtown, which turned out to be the Sheraton on Canal Street. Lots of valet parking attendants and tuxedo-adorned doormen, all very fancy. I looked like a cat that just did 10 minutes in a microwave oven, and was feeling rather scruffy, there, slouched on The Hawg in front of the Sheraton. None of the valet guys seemed to want to park that sucker, but they did point me in the direction of their indoor, 24-hour locked parking garage. Patsy disappeared inside, something about 'helmet hair' again.
 The Sheraton was wonderful. Our room overlooked the Mississippi, and the river traffic was 20 times as busy as I had seen at Natchez. Not just barges, but ocean-going tankers and the like. What can you say about New Orleans? It's wild and crazy. We stayed two days, and it was still not enough time to take in everything neat to be seen. We did the usual tourist things including a half-day guided tour of the City; late-night forays up and down Bourbon Street (where the guys and the gals and the in-betweens hang out); and way yonder too much good food. And yet another casino, this one right downtown. No fake boat this time, just a regular building. Left New Orleans behind on Tuesday, eastbound again towards Biloxi and beyond. The ride between New Orleans and Ft. Walton Beach (our next planned overnight stop) was the most scenic of the trip. There are some really magnificent old homes along the beach road between New Orleans and Biloxi; plenty of places to get fresh seafood; and plenty of places to stop for a cool one or two. Wound up in Destin, I think, but cannot remember for sure. Too many 'stops for cool ones'. But, hey, this is vacation......
After a long nap, Patsy did the water-and-sand thing, while I surveyed the pool. Ain't much fabric in them thar' swimsuits anymore. We attempted to eat supper in the hotel dining room, but it was a disaster, so the waiter kindly offered all the free drinks we wanted. Now, you'd have to understand that ever since the on-set of diabetes 3 months ago, I have been avoiding Happy Water like the plague. Doctor's orders. But free drinks, you see.......I dont yet know exactly what happened next, but I am told that I did enjoy myself. We needed to be home by Friday noon; and the only 'trip rules' so far had been (1) no riding on the interstate, and (2) no fast food (Waffle House notwithstanding). So on Thursday morning, we left Panama City by 6am, intent on riding Highway 231 as far north as Huntsville, AL before nightfall; and then home on Friday. We had traveled no more than 4 miles from the hotel when (I kid you not) the hardest rainfall I have ever personally witnessed, befell Panama City. And The Hawg. And us. No time for raingear. Heck, no time to even pull over. Could not see to drive, could not see to stop. Miserable, and scary. When we finally could see an old Exxon station with a canopy, we pulled in. Five miles into the day's riding, and already soaked to the skin. After doing our customary one-foot-hopping to get into the rain gear, we hit the road again as soon as the rain slowed to the point where we could see the ground. Mama's complaining again about something called 'helmet hair'...... Stopped in Dothan at the local Harley shoppe, looking like drowned rats. The HOG group there is given a corner of the dealership, where they have set up a soda bar and lounge. Drank a soda and looked through their picture albums while Patsy fooled with her 'helmet hair' (I have never understood this concept....work on the hair for an hour and then put the helmet right back on.............); then northbound again. Somewhere north of Troy, Alabama, we rode into a thunderstorm so bad that it threatened to push us off the side of the road. Stopped at a little country market and were sitting out the storm on the front porch, when lightning struck the power pole on the street directly in front of the market. That 'sizzling' sound and the smell of ozone will sure get your attention. Pulled into Huntsville by early suppertime (yes, too fast - but no tickets!), which is only 100 miles from home. Sooooo after supper, like old cows near dusk, we headed for the barn, a half-day early. Panama City Beach to Nashville, not sure how far, but it would not have been a bad one-day trek had it not been for the weather delays. Plus, it saved me at least one more session of witnessing the miracle known as 'helmet hair'. Seven days, and a mere 1575 miles. The layovers in New Orleans and Panama City cut into our average miles-per-day, but all in all not bad for a couple of Olde Folk traveling alone. Only casualties of the trip - one snake on the Natchez Trace, duly squashed by The Hawg....and, of course, Mama's recurrent helmet hair. |
Patsy and I left bright and early on Friday the 16th and headed across town in the rush hour traffic (wonderful planning, huh!). Anyway, we got on the Natchez Trace at it's point of beginning, in southwest Nashville, a little before 9 a.m. and headed south with the Hawg loaded to the gills. 
In summary, the Natchez Trace is an absolutely wonderful ride for bikers. It was not unusual to ride 15 minutes or more at a time without seeing a car in either direction, really! It is technically a Federal Park, and the 50 mph speed limit is strictly enforced by U.S. Park Police. On the 'plus' side, it is very limited access, and if we wanted to go that much faster, we'd have flown Delta. Beautiful scenery. If you like wildlife, it's there. We saw eagles, hawks, deer, raccoon, turkey, peacock, and lots of turtles and snakes. There are dozens of historical markers and sites along the Trace, plus non-commercial campgrounds and picnic areas.
The day heated up considerably, aggravated by the humidity from the occasional showers. Stopped once under an overpass to let a quick storm pass bye, poured for maybe 5 minutes. Missed another one.
By Wednesday, the heat had taken it's toll on both of us, so we only rode on east to Panama City Beach, where we scored a
wonderful (yes, "wonderful" is Floridian for "overpriced") room on the beachfront, all before noon. 
Now, here's where I am able to impart some sage advice. Imagine for a moment that you are riding into south Alabama on a 95+
degree day. Imagine further, that your clothes and boots are drenched; and that you are wearing a rainproof outer garment. Boys
and girls, this is a spectacularly bad idea unless you are into the sauna thing. Once you're fully drenched, you just cant get much
wetter.....unless you're sweating 4 gallons per hour. When this finally dawned on us, we did the reverse-hop thing, got out of the
raingear, and rode on northward in the showers. Wet, but blissfully cooler.