Louisiana to Mississippi

It was in Louisiana that I drove on the interstate the first time.

It was the most direct route to Lake Charles, where I’d planned to stop for my first official beignet treat. Also, I wanted a big state map, and picking one up at the welcome center seemed a good way to get one. Bonus? Beautiful grounds, and a safe, secure place to spend a night.

I headed out in the morning before dawn to be at Stellar Beans Coffeehouse shortly after opening. It was a good stop in that I met a few locals and spent time in great conversation. But I was disappointed in the beignets. I’d looked forward to them so much, but they were a bit heavy and doughy.

So on to Lafayette via back roads.

In Lafayette I’d have my first on-the-road housesit. 

I got to my housesit right on time and was happily welcomed by the hosts. The cats weren’t exstatic, but they accepted me, and by the end of the sit, they were quite friendly. I also became friendly with the next door neighbor and donated one of my books to the Shelly Drive Little Free Library.

Cool weather and rain greeted me. Unfortunately, the cool weather stayed the whole time I was there.

While in Lafayette, I dropped down to Broussard to attend part of the Lao New Year Festival.

I also visited the Acadian Village where there are reloacated and new-to-look-old buildings depicting a Cajun village. The building techniques are distinct: heavy timbers covered on both sides with horizontal boards. Cracks are filled in and plastered with bousillage, a mixture of mud and Spanish moss. The bousillage is then covered with cypress siding and painted. Bousillage was originally a local Native American construction technique.

Houses had exterior stairways. This allowed boys, who,slept upstairs, to leave for fieldwork quietly early in the morning. Parents and girls slept downstairs.

I spent a week wandering town, visiting parks, and eating fabulous beignets then headed northeast when the owners returned. In that week, I fell in love with Lafayette, a city where French is almost as common as English. I still listen to radio station KRVS via my Apple Music subscription—blues, zydeo, folk, and more.

As I left Lafayette, I heard a funny clicking sound coming from my tire. It sounded like the front driver’s side, so I stopped to check. Couldn’t find a thing wrong. About an hour and a half down the road, my tire light came on. Thankfully there was a small town nearby with a mehcanic. 

Not front driver’s side. Rear. YIKES!! This is what the mechanic pulled out, but he saved the tire.

I spend the night on the Mississippi River in Natchez, Mississippi. 

In the morning, I visited a coffeehouse, placed a pin on the map to show where I was from, and had my first grits of the trip. The cook gave me a small sample of red gravy, too. He said his granmother had taught him how to make the gravy.

Later I visited the farmers market and toured the historical part of town.

On up to Clarksdale, but on the way, I saw the disaster a tornado had left in Rolling Fork, Mississippi.

Clarksdale! A place of legends. It’s here musician Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the devil at the Crossroads in exchange for musical talent.

Clarksdale was also the home of former Bisbee resident Keith Edward. I’d planned to have a visit with him and camp by the river. But I hadn’t paid attention to the date and arrived the afternoon of the biggest event of the year, the Clarksdale Blues Festival.

The entire downtown area was full. Roads were blocked off and stages set up. Visitors wandered the area and delicious smells came from the many food trucks. There was nowhere to park, there was no access to the riverside where I’d intended to camp, and I did’t think I’d find Keith. I finally took a hotel room—first of the trip. When I checked in I found the festival would conclude that night and roads would be open in the morning.

Morning came, I contacted Keith, and he invited me for coffee. I accepted and headed over to his shop/home a short time later.

And I’m so glad I did. Keith died suddenly a few weeks later. I may have been the last Bisbee person to visit him in Clarksdale.

Keith was a master luthier. In Bisbee he made fabulous instruments from found objects, think guitars made out of suitcases. He was also an accomplished musician whose nickname was The Blues Wizzard.

Keith Edward, ¡Presente!