All Apologies, Amarillo.

Given that we generally can’t correctly name the day of the week, it is not surprising that we forgot to include the town of Amarillo, TX in our last posting. Although we had already left TX for OK, heading west from OK City meant passing through Texas once more (in case you were in need of a Geography lesson).

While on Route 66, we saw a sign for the largest cross in the Western Hemisphere; oh yeah, we stopped. Not only is it a ridiculously huge cross, it is encompassed by a life-sized Stations of The Cross. There is also a depiction of the Last Supper, the Crucifiction and the Shroud of Turin. I called my grandmother on the spot.

We stopped in Amarillo, TX, which is the home of the second largest canyon in the US, Palo Duro. One nice thing about Palo Duro is that you can drive through to the bottom. We spent a couple of hours driving and walking about, enjoying the vistas; the campsites throughout the canyon are top-notch. This was our first real taste of the landscapes of the west, and we were appropriately impressed.

Our final stop was much anticipated. After visiting the local Wal-Mart for a few cans of spray paint, we headed to Cadillac Ranch. This guy, Stanley Marsh, buried ten Cadillacs nose first into the dirt. He allows anyone to come onto his property to view and paint the cars which appear to have been stripped of most of their parts. Jared conjured some of his skills from a time long ago and painted a little tribute to our journey which now serves as the banner for this blog.

And with that, we were on our way to New Mexico…for really reals this time. And, while we were glad that we did not meet with more snow, Jared and I agree that the Lone Star State isn’t our favorite place. It does, however, have two things that are missing from the rest of the states we have visited thus far. Firstly, the people in Texas are truly nice. We expected the South to have the friendliest folk, but Texans have put the citizens of every other state to shame when it comes to friendliness and kindness. Way to be! Also, Texas knows how to do a rest stop: open 24 hours, clean and well lit with covered picnic areas complete with grills in the shape of the state itself. Excellent.

arkatexlahomadone!

Rain, snow, cold and sometimes our own restlessness pushed us through the next three states as quickly as our loaded, little XB climbs a winding mountain road...so not so fast that we couldn't check out a few cities.

We pulled off of I40 and into Little Rock's bustling downtown which is situated on the bank of the Arkansas River.  A pavillion hosting a car show caught our attention...

Jared's dad used to have this one (67' chevy Nova):

Right on the waterfront the city has built an amazing, multi-level playground complete with tunnels, ladders and slides.  (The pictures do it little justice.) 

We walked across this bridge viewing the skyline and the boats that were on the river. It was late by now so we decided to head back to the car, continuing on to Hot Springs. 

The entire town of Hot Springs seems to be the National Park.  We set up at it's campground, Gulpha Gorge and drove into the downtown area.  We had visions of outdoor jacuzzis, but the springs are accessible only through bath houses built nearly a century ago; we are still a little miffed.  The Fordyce House serves as the park's visitor's center:

There are "dispensers" about town where people can fill up any make-shift container with the hot spring water.  Some consider it to have healing properties, and Jared was saddened when we used the last of his "water of life" to make the following morning's oatmeal.

Several Trails lead from downtown through the park. We hiked about three miles up and back to a mountain overlook with beautiful views of the town and surrounding landscapes.

A bird in a tree!

Once  we returned to the campground, it began to rain and it was forecasted to continue for the next few days, so we packed up and drove south for better weather:

Ever slept in a car in a snow storm?!? Once the snow subsided, we drove about Dallas, visiting the JFK memorial and surrounding area.

Then west to Fort Worth and its stockyards:

Another couple hundred miles, another great night's sleep at Wal-Mart's campground, another stockyard...

After Stockyard City, the two must-sees of Oklahoma City were its downtown area, Brick Town, and the memorial dedicated to the victims of the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City.  The latter was time very well spent; this solemn monument is impressive in its scale and its ability to touch one's heart.

From here we were off to get our kicks on Rt. 66, heading to the mountains, valleys & vistas of New Mexico and beyond....and after Jared drove 300 yards the wrong way down a one way into oncoming traffic watching everything except the road (as usual) we were on our way. "Go west young man!"

The Mississippi Delta

The Natchez Trace Parkway is a scenic route that stretches from Natchez, MS to Nashville, TN. This parkway was originally a footpath that was created by people who would take the Mississippi River south to New Orleans to peddle their wares, but rather than fight the current back they would sell their boats and travel home on foot via this path. Natchez the town is a beautifully quiet place perched on the Mississippi River with several plantations and antebellum homes scattered about. We explored the town and toured some of the homes before continuing on the Parkway, checking out Emerald Mound, the second largest Indian ceremonial/burial ground in the US. Some local kids gave me enough encouragement to roll down the hill…less painful than I imagined, but more cow paddies than I anticipated. We also stopped at Rocky Springs, a ghost town turned campground where we hiked, cooked, and then jumped back on the parkway, picking up the Blues Highway around Vicksburg, MS.

We arrived in Clarksdale, MS late that night and began to explore the “Birth Place of The Blues” early the next morning, as one can only sleep so late in the parking lot of the local WalMart. Legend has it that at “The Crossroads” in Clarksdale, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil in return for mastery of the guitar allowing him to “create” the Blues.                                     

Only the Greyhound Station (which doubles as the visitors’ center) was open at this hour, and with some advice from the helpful folk we found inside, we drove the streets of “downtown” scoping out some of the places we wanted to check out later. In his pre-trip research, Jared found The Shack Up Inn just a few miles outside of town, so we headed there to bide our time. The inn is a series of sharecropper shacks turned hotel of sorts…kitsch heaven, for sure. In our walking about the grounds and snapping pictures, we chatted with a gentleman who told us that one of the other guests was a traveling blues man who had come on a pilgrimage to Clarksdale and was about to jam on the front porch of his shack.  What an amazing and authentic experience...thank you, Juke Joint Johnny!!

             

After visiting a few shops back in town and purchasing a blues compilation for the rest of our drive to Memphis, we were back on the road. 

      

The first stop in Memphis was to visit the home I remember as a child.  That was really neat to see.  Look much different, Mom and Dad?

After checking into a hotel, we headed to Beale Street for some fried catfish, ribs and more blues.

The facial expressions of the bass player in this band cracked me up!  Also, who would have expected a cover of "In Your Eyes" from this bunch!?!

This dude could play the guitar behind his back while smoking a butt and slamming jager.  I'm just sayin'. 

Jared LOVED the neon!

The following day, we walked up a sun-lit Beale Street but spent most of our time at the National Civil Rights Museum which is built in and on to the site of Dr. King's assasination.  The history of African Americans' struggle for equality is chronicled in this moving and comprehensive series of exhibits.  If you find yourself in the area, this museum is an absolute must.

   

And with that, we crossed the Mississippi River, bidding farewell to The Home of Rock and Roll.