From Jackson we were told to follow the Natchez Trace all the way down to Natchez, Mississippi. The parkway was beautiful, though we kept expecting to see huge vistas and overlooks like one would on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But of course Mississippi is flat... so no mountain ranges ever showed up. Still, it was a peaceful drive. We did attempt at one point to go to a plantation called, Rosswood Plantation. These things cost money though.The old woman who ran the tour, who was very sweet at first, shooed us off when she discovered we were not willing to give her the ten dollars she requested. Oh well. We got to see the house anyways.
We arrived in Natchez around dinner time and planned on grabbing a bite then finding a place to stay. However, Natchez, Mississippi was a bit of a tourist trap. Not to mention there was a motorcycle convention going on so you really had to be careful not to get run over by leather clad men on bikes. All the restaurants were kitchy and over priced and our excitement about the town quickly dissolved.
And then suddenly in one glorious turn of fate we found ourselves looking out across the great Mississippi River. I suppose we had known we were going to come upon it that day but nothing can prepare you for the moment you do. Disappointment turned to awe as we slowed the car and looked out on the water. The sun was setting and though I haven’t seen it at any other time during the day, I can attest, we arrived at the perfect moment. There is something about crossing a river that makes a traveler feel a sense of accomplishment far greater than crossing a state line. (And of course in this case we were crossing both.) But somehow on that night crossing the Mississippi I felt fueled with a sense of movement. If this were a movie the director would cut in an image of a map and our little red ticker marks would tick right on through to Louisiana.