Down to New Orleans at last

Clumps of trees and machinery dumps dotted the entitirely flat Landscape with little fragile houses surrounded by junk every now and then plonked along the roadside. It seems that a lot of Southern Americans live in very poor houses or caravans parked all over every state, but the poverty here is tangible, pawn shops and loan companies are everywhere on the outskirts of towns, along with the liqour stores and burger joints, all with garish illuminated signs. Oh America you have made such a mess of this land.

We made it into Jackson, the state capital and tried to find the Lefleur Bluff State Park where there was supposed to be an RV park. We had a desperate hour on a 'spaghetti junction' type intersection before a kindly park ranger put us on the right track to a beautiful lakeside campground where we met a couple whose bloke was just back from Iraq, and here on a camping trip to relax. This was the most beautiful location you could imagine in amongst the gum, beach and oak trees right beside the oxbow lake Mayes, formed when the Pearl river changed course. I spent the morning wandering among the trees and ponds spotting lots of birds including 2 types of Heron, the giant robins that we have seen everywhere and black cormarants. Eventually we packed up reluctantly to hit the road to New Orleans, and made a small detour at Crystal Springs to check out a Robert Johnson museum run by his grandson, but it was closed and on calling him he said that he was unable to open due to family illness. After lunch at Ruby Tuesdays, a stock up at the liqour store, Wallmart for groceries, carnival masks and an inner tube for my bike we motored on through McComb and down through the longest causeway I have ever crossed, we joined the traffic jam trying to get into N.O., accompanied by wicked soul and blues on the radio from the station wwoz. If you are ever here get on this non profit station, blessedly free of adverts and wall to wall good music of all kunds. This is a rarity in America, most staions are either preaching or country music with more adverts than music. The only news is on NPR, and even that concentrates on politics and financial.

Coahoma Bank in John Lee Hooker Ave.

Cathead

Where the 61 and 49 cross, 

We soon found the RV park right on the edge of the French Quarter, hooked up and headed in to the mayhem. We had been told that it was wild and it was, but sad to see the historic district turned over to hip hop and strip joints. The crowds were jammed and drunk pleading with those on the balconies for beads in exchange for girls showing there tits, Miles of course was very free with his but offers were few. Luckily one of the parades was still going along a main raod and we were sucked into the fray and holding our arms high to get beads and trinkets from the sinister masked men on the huge and garish floats . We backed into the narrow streets again jostling with revellers and Christian missioneries touting salvation with large polistyrene crosses and amplifiers competing with beats coming out of every door. We were thrilled and exhausted by midnight and limped home to the bus, before the rain started

More pics next time.