February 22, 2003

It didn’t seem to be long after leaving St. Francisville, Louisiana, that I crossed the Mississippi state line. The roads were almost empty, a combination of off-season travel and heavy rain.

My destination was Natchez, on the banks of the Mississippi. By traveling only sixty miles on this particular day, I’d be set to start off the following day on the Natchez Trace, when the rain was due to subside. Having lingered in St. Francisville before heading out, I knew I’d also have more daylight hours by waiting.

Now, my timing on these trips seems to be often remarkable in terms of catching cool little stores and local people at just the right time. But I missed out this time on one, which caused me to turn abruptly off the road just before getting into Natchez. Mammy’s Cupboard seemed to appear out of nowhere, nestled along the right side of the northbound route. Trees surrounded it on all sides and there wasn’t a person in sight. I knew from the empty parking lot that I wasn’t going to be able to get inside.

Still, I knew a photo opportunity when I saw one, even with the gray skies and persistent drizzle. I pulled my car up alongside the intriguing building and proceeded to shoot whatever pictures I could from the vehicle. Camera covered, I stepped outside and took a peek through the front windows. A few small tables stood in the tiny, dark room, chairs around them. It was difficult to see, but I didn’t figure it could hold more than a dozen customers, maybe twenty at the most.

I checked the sign on the door. I’d missed seeing it open by two hours. Considering Mammy’s Cupboard is only open a total of fifteen hours per week, this was a close call. Disappointed, but still excited about the discovery, I took a few more pictures and finally ducked out of the rain and back into the car.

There wasn’t much daylight left by the time I reached the historic district of Natchez and searched out local lodging. I lucked out again here, finding that the 1927 Natchez Eola Hotel had an incredible winter discount going on. I was given a choice of a couple rooms, both with private balconies. I opted for one that looked over the inner courtyard, rather than a riverview choice. It was a smaller room, but seemed quieter and was nicely furnished with a combination of antiques and reproductions. Coffee pot in room, nice bath products, hair dryer – all the desired amenities were there.

I set out on foot to explore what I could before night fell completely. The streets were almost deserted. I headed down toward the river, just three blocks away. As I stopped to take a picture of a gazebo, the sound of calliope music started up, coming from the river.

I walked to the edge of the bluff and looked down over the river in time to see a steamboat passing by, big wheels proudly splashing water behind it. It continued north just a bit, then turned and headed back down the river, growing smaller to my viewpoint as it passed under the Mississippi River Bridge and continued south. I’d find out later that this isn’t a daily occurrence and that it was quite remarkable that I just happened to approach the bluff as it came by, considering I was only in town for the night.

Natchez is an area packed with history, much of it fairly heart-wrenching to confront. The Forks of the Road market location at the junction of D’Evereux Dr., Liberty Rd. and St. Catherine St. marks the scene of slave trade during the 1800’s. According to the National Park Service brochure, more than 200,000 enslaved people were brought to Mississippi from the tobacco and rice fields in the Atlantic states, most forced to walk in chains or coffles along stage roads or old indian trails. Saying good-bye to family and friends was only one of the difficulties these people endured. The journey was long and painful, often filled with illness and horrible living conditions.

Surrounding Natchez are some of the finest examples of Greek Revival architecture to be found anywhere. The Natchez Spring Pilgrimage 2003 booklet pictures thirty-one antebellum plantations, all on the National Register and several designated National Historic Landmarks. Many of these are open for tours year round. Bed and breakfast accommodations are also plentiful, though often at a substantial price.

I ended up dining at two different eating establishments for dinner, but mostly because indoor cigarette smoke sent me flying from the cutely named Biscuits and Blues before I could really give it a chance. I did have a salad there before leaving and wasn’t overly impressed. This turned out to be a blessing, though. I found my way to a colorful local spot I’d noticed on my way back up from the bluff called The Pig Out Inn. Yes, pigs again. 

Anyway, this was good old BBQ style service like my favorite Rudy’s out west, and for two dollars I got a plateful of mouth-watering tender meat, bread, sauce and all the southern atmosphere I could soak up. A mural on the wall listed things to be grateful for in the south. Clever signs were nailed to the counters and doorways. It was a great meal and another reminder that sometimes the most down-to-earth places serve up the best meals.

I slept well at the Natchez Eola Hotel, stopped at the Visitor Center on my way out – a huge, marvelous information hub that I hadn’t been able to find on my way in the day before – and hit the road about noon. Or, I should say, hit The Trace.