24th – 28th Oct
On the way down to our next stop at Natchez we took a bit of a detour to see a place called Windsor Ruins.
A rich plantation owner, Smith Coffee Daniel II (what a name!) built an enormous house on his 2600 acre plantation. It took 2 years to complete and was finished in 1861. It was the largest Greek revival antebellum mansion in the state of Mississippi. Tragically he died only a few months after the house was completed at the age of only 34. His family lived in the house until it unfortunately burnt down in 1890, leaving only the columns. Having survived the ravages of civil war it was a stray cigarette that saw the house’s demise. The ruins were gifted to the state of Mississippi by one of the daughters after her mother’s death. Valiant efforts are being made to try and stop it falling down but I fear that this is inevitable.
Natchez itself is a beautiful spot. Established on a bluff it is another historic riverside town and boasts to be oldest settlement on the Mississippi. Named after the native tribe of the area, it has previously been in the hands of the French and Spanish over the years and was the site of the principle port for the export of the cotton and sugarcane that was grown on the fertile land of the river basin. It was a rich place, funded by the proceeds of vast plantations and slave labour. Huge antebellum homes were built built by wealthy plantation owners who needed to impress their equally puffed up neighbours. This makes for some great modern day touristic ogling.
The pre-industrial method of transporting people and their wares was on foot and by horse and Natchez is the Southern terminus of an ancient forest trail called the Natchez Trace which extends up to Nashville, TN. The advent of motorised boats made the river the primary transportation route and the Old Trace became less important, eventually being completely superseded by road and rail. The route has been preserved as a National Park and ‘The Natchez Trace Parkway’ is a wonderful 444 mile stretch of beautifully sealed roadway which follows the route of the original trail. It is closed to commercial traffic and has a 50mph speed limit making it quiet and a dream to travel along by RV, car, motorbike or bicycle. We joined it about 50km north of Natchez making our arrival into town very scenic and serene.
Our camp site was just across the river from Natchez in a town called Vidalia, which is actually in Louisiana. The park was one our favourites so far. It was between the levy and the river and really well kept, large and spacious with mature trees and lawned areas up to the river bank. It had a nice pool and hot tub and a huge clubhouse. The place was awash with squirrels. It was like a squirrel safari park with dozens of the blighters seriously busy with the important task of collecting acorns. One morning we found one sadly in its death throws near the back wheels of big Dave, making it look like we had run it over. (Framed by a squirrel for a crime we did not commit.) It must have been a less agile individual that unfortunately didn’t land a leap. We knew it needed a ‘coup de grace’ but were too soft to deliver it ourselves. We found a man with a rake and more resolve than us. RIP Nutkin.
There was lovely paved walking path that went through our park and down the riverfront for about 2 miles. We broke out the bikes for an explore and found a hairdressers at the other end of it meaning we could book our long overdue haircuts whilst we were here. Hampson was starting to look like a cross between Crusty the clown and Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Hair crisis averted.
Although Natchez was only about a mile away over the bridge there was no safe way to get across on bikes or foot. There was all this money and effort put in to paths and trails on both sides of the river, but no link between the two. Bonkers, but not unusual. So Big Dave was liberated from his burden of TC again and, having driven the short distance across the busy narrow bridge, we spent day exploring Natchez on foot and decided that it was a thoroughly nice town. Lots of well preserved beautiful historical homes, good eateries and drinkeries, shops and a great riverside park that was a fine place to promenade and watch the river traffic. We then drove out to do a tour of one of the fancy antebellum homes. There is a whole trail of them, but we decided one would be enough. We chose one called Longwood.
This was started just before the Civil War and built as an impressive 6 story octagonal home. The shell and lower level were completed in a speedy 18 months but the onset of the war meant that the tradesmen returned to their homes in Pennsylvania, arresting the build. Anticipating a speedy resolution to the war, and a recommencement of work within months, the family of the fabulously wealthy plantation owner, Haller Nutt (another cool name), wife Julia, and 8 kids moved temporarily into the lower ‘basement’ level of the home. Unfortunately fortune did not favour them. The war dragged on and on and on. Despite being Unionist supporters who had been promised that their plantation would be protected by the Northern army, it wasn’t. It was destroyed, the valuables looted and the fortune was lost. Haller died of pneumonia in his late 40s soon after being ruined although his wife was convinced it was a broken heart that saw him off. She was left with no money, eight kids and a shell of a home. She valiantly raised her family on peanuts and lived another 30 years in the lower level of the unfinished house, passing it to her children on her death. None of them ever had the money or will to complete the house and it eventually fell into disrepair and lay empty for 30 years. It was finally sold to its saviour, a philanthropist whose name escapes me, who restored it to how it had been when the family lived in it and gifted it to a local garden club to run and maintain. His only stipulation was that it remained in its unfinished state. It is an amazing place made all the more atmospheric by the history that comes with it.
The next day we went back up to the Trace Parkway and took the bikes. There was a 4 mile walking trail just off the road that was a part of the original Old Trace trail. We performed a logistical manoeuvre and left the bikes at the end of the trail and drove back to the start so we could hike to the bikes then bike back to the car. Brilliant. And it was. The day, and the walk were beautiful and there were no other souls to be seen. In places the path is sunken well below the forest floor, worn away by hundreds of years and hundreds of thousands of feet and hooves. I love feeling part of history. The short bike ride back down the Parkway was equally lovely. We were passed by only two vehicles in 20 minutes. Where was everybody on such a gorgeous autumn Saturday afternoon??
We spent our last afternoon doing the usual faffing that all RV and boat owners will understand. We scooped TC up again, cleaned and racked the bikes, drained the waste tanks and did some small maintenance jobs. Now we were all ready for an early-ish start in the morning. Tomorrow we were off to an event that we booked months and months ago. The Louisiana State Penitentiary Inmate Rodeo.
Oh, and we just couldn’t resist driving the Chevy to the levy. And Yes. It was dry.
