Alabama: The Heart of Dixie

Welcome Sign, Interstate 59, Georgia/Alabama Line

September 2nd, 2012

To date, I’ve been to Alabama twice.  First time was back in 1999, when I attended a three-day conference in Birmingham with New Image, International.  The Conference was held at the Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Complex, an easy walk from our hotel which was located right in the heart of the city, and only a few blocks from the Amtrak station where I arrived on the Southern Crescent from New Orleans.  It was an easy walk until the police closed off the street that connected hotel and convention center, which they did because the Ku Klux Klan was having a major demonstration half-way between the two venues in “honor” of the Martin Luther King holiday.  1999 was seven years before I got a decent digital camera, and while I know I have photographs from that trip, at present I’m having trouble locating either the prints or the negatives to scan.  Oh well, you’ll just have to imagine what that trip was like from my words.

Inside our Cabin at Bluff Creek Falls

Steele, Alabama

September 3rd, 2012

Riding the Southern Crescent, we pulled out of New Orleans, crossed into Mississippi shortly thereafter, and crossed that state in a diagonal line from Southwest to Northeast, a trip I’ll discuss in my post about Mississippi.  The Crescent runs between New York City and New Orleans, and the Amtrak guide assumes that you will be heading south and gives all the miles as distance from New York’s Penn Station, the busiest rail station in the country.  The total travel distance is 1,377 miles, and you cross the Alabama/Mississippi state line at mile 1,155, or 222 miles from N’Awlins.  Once you cross into Alabama, the rail line runs roughly parallel to and south of Interstate 20.  You pass through the towns of Livingston and Eutaw, cross the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway, and stop in Tuscaloosa, home of the Crimson Tide and all things University of Alabama.  After several hours and 354 miles, you arrive in Birmingham, Alabama’s largest city located toward the southern end of the Appalachian Mountains, and therefore quite hilly.   I have to admit that I have no memory of the Alabama portion of the trip, at least not until I stepped off the train at the Birmingham Station, which struck me as old, pretty small for a big city train station, and located in a not very interesting neighborhood.  For those who don’t know the city, as well as being the largest in Alabama, it is the 103^rd largest city in the U.S., with a 2010 Census count of 212,237, down from 242,840 in 2000, one year after I visited.  In fact, the population of the city has declined in every census since 1960 when the count was 340,887, the highest ever for the city.  In other words, over the past fifty years, the city has lost a third of its population, although the 2015 estimate showed a minimal increase from 2010. 

Parked Outside our Cabin at Bluff Creek Falls

Steele, Alabama

September 3rd, 2012

This decrease became apparent my first evening in town.  Despite being in the center of an apparently prosperous downtown, judging solely by the new skyscrapers that surrounded our hotel, there were no restaurants open after 5 p.m., and no retail businesses to speak of any where we looked.  Oh there were lots of empty storefronts on streets nearby, but most looked as if they had been closed for years, or even decades.  A local explained to me that downtown historically was the Negro section of town, and with increased prosperity and desegregation, the Blacks had moved to the suburbs and no one had taken their place.  It gave downtown Birmingham a distinct ghost town feel, especially after the skyscrapers emptied of their white-collar workers.  Missoula friends attending the same conference, had a rental car, so we were able to get out of downtown and see a bit of the city, albeit by night, including the section called Five Points South where we found restaurants and the hill on top of which Vulcan, the largest cast-iron statue in the world, looks over the city and moons the suburbs.  (Well at least in 1999, when I saw the statue.  At that time, Vulcan wore an apron which protected his family jewels from the heat of the forge, but his apron was open at the back, and his cheeks were quite visible should you approach him from the rear.  I understand the statue has been completely renovated since then, so I cannot say what he is showing the world today.) 

The Pool Area at Bluff Creek Falls

Steele, Alabama

September 3rd, 2012

I never saw the hooded Knights as the police diverted all traffic away from the area, but I remember the next day walking a couple of blocks from our hotel to visit a park dedicated to the Civil Rights struggle.  Unfortunately, while I know I took photographs on this trip, including several from the train and in Birmingham itself, I cannot find those images.  Nor do I have any memory of returning to the Amtrak station, boarding the train or the return trip to New Orleans.

Yes, George Wallace's wife has a street named for her

Tuscaloosa, Alabama

September 3rd, 2012

My second trip across Alabama was in September, 2012, when Kevin and I drove from Columbus, Ohio to Starkville, Mississippi, and spent a night outside of Steele, Alabama en route.  On this trip, we entered Alabama from Georgia on Interstate 59, capturing the Welcome sign shown at the head of this post.  We stopped for supper in Gadsden, then proceeded on to Steele where we stayed in a cabin at Bluff Creek Falls.  We had been driving through torrential rains as we skirted the path of Hurricane Isaac, and the grounds at Bluff Creek were drenched.  As a result, we spent no time in what looked to be a lovely pool, were the weather better, but the friendliness and hospitality of the hosts and campers were unmatched and we had a very pleasant evening there, albeit inside.

US Highway 82, Western Alabama

September 3rd, 2012

The next morning, we reloaded the Saab and headed on through Birmingham, Tuscaloosa, where Kevin had his very first Waffle House experience and got a Waffle House cap for being a “virgin,” and then on across western Alabama on U.S. 82, crossing into Mississippi just east of the town of Columbus.  All of the pictures accompanying this post are from the 2012 drive.

The Second Sunday Drive, Day 33

Parked in front of our cabin

Bluff Creek Falls, Steele Alabama

Everybody movin’ if they ain’t already there
Everybody got to move somewhere
Stick with me baby, stick with me anyhow
Things should start to get interestin' right about now

                 --Words and Music by Bob Dylan

To hear the Dixie Chicks' version of Bob Dylan's song, Mississippi, click here.

We rose early Monday morning, Labor Day, having spent the night listening to Isaac's rain beating down on the metal roof of our cabin.  I felt sorry for the guys who were tenting.  While Kevin packed up the car, I wandered through the campground and got some pics to remember the place by.  We never made it into the pool, nor did we visit the evening campfire, but we had a good time anyway, and it was now time to head on down the road.

Interstate 59 took us into and through Birmingham, and while I had wanted to photograph Vulcan in all his unclad glory, I wasn't just sure where to get off the highway, so we passed on through the city.  For those of you who don't know Birmingham, let me assure you that the world's largest cast iron statue is not showing full frontal nudity.  He is wearing a blacksmith's apron, but he moons the residential area of the city that lies behind him.  I'd seen the statue, front and rear, the last (and only previous) time I'd been in Birmingham, back in 1999.  At that time, I was attending the winter conference of New Image International, held over the three-day Martin Luther King holiday.  What a time to be in the Deep South.  As it turns out, the Ku Klux Klan held a rally in protest of the holiday, and where did they hold it?  Exactly midway between our downtown hotel and the Birmingham-Jefferson County Convention Complex where we were meeting.  What fun.  What had been a pleasant four block walk on Saturday turned into a harrowing mile-long drive to get around the police barricades.  It reminded me of my college days.

 

 

The Pool at Bluff Creek Falls

(Note how wet the deck is--thank you Isaac)

 

This three-day holiday weekend, Kevin and I drove unmolested through the city, never getting off the interstate, until we decided it was time (past time, actually) for breakfast.  Waffle House is ubiquitous throughout the South, and that's where we ended up, in one of Birmingham's southwestern suburbs.  I mentioned to the waitress that Kevin had never eaten at a Waffle House, and she promptly brought out a WH hat for him to wear.  I think he's still got it somewhere.

After breakfast, we continued on I-59 to Tuscaloosa, where we drove through the city on Lurleen B Wallace Boulevard, crossing the city till we turned onto U.S. 82 heading west.  Tuscaloosa is the home of the University of Alabama--the Crimson Tide--and has many streets named for famous people, not all of them football heroes.  For example, there is also a Helen Keller Boulevard, a Jack Warner Parkway, and a Paul W. Bryant Drive.

 

 

Heading west across Alabama

 

Heading west from Tuscaloosa, we passed miles of farmland, and miles of Kudzu covered landscape.  We crossed into Mississippi heading for Starkville, home of Mississippi State University and MFJ Enterprises, "the world leaders in amateur radio accessories," according to the souvenir mug I have before me.  As Kevin is a ham (amateur) radio operator, I leave it to you to figure out just why we had driven so many miles out of our way home.  As it was Labor Day, we couldn't visit MFJ, so after we found their offices, we checked into the Days Inn on Veterans' Memorial Drive.  What is it with these southern cities?  Can't they just use letters and numbers to name their streets?  As we were leaving the front desk, we noticed the sign advising us that the pool was closed for repairs.  The temperature was approaching 100 degrees and the humidity was right up there with the temp.  A closed pool was not a good sign.

 

 

Welcome to Mississippi

 

We didn't do much in the way of sightseeing while in Starkville, opting instead to stay in our air-conditioned room.  We did, however, head to Stromboli's for dinner, having found the place on my iPhone's Yelp app.  The place was packed, to the extent that we had to wait for a table.  I couldn't help but notice that we were old enough to be the grandfathers of most of the clientele.  Well, this is a college town and we were in a pizza place.  But the owner(?) who greeted us was very friendly, and took our order before we ever got a table so that the wait was minimized when we were finally seated.  And the pizza?  I can say right now that it is bar none the best pizza I have ever had.  Can't say I recommend travel to or through Mississippi, especially not in the summer, but should you find yourself in Starkville, by all means visit Stromboli's.

Later that evening, Kevin and I walked about a block from our motel to enjoy an evening ice cream, then it was bedtime.  We had driven less than 200 miles from Steele, Alabama to Starkville, making this one of the shorter days of the drive.

 

Hail State

Mississippi State University

The Second Sunday Drive, Day 32

 

Downtown Cincinnati

(as seen from Interstate 71)

When you hear the whistle blowin' eight to the bar
Then you know that Tennessee is not very far
Shovel all the coal in
Gotta keep it rollin'
Woo, woo, Chattanooga there you are

- words by Mack Gordon, music by Harry Warren

To hear Glenn Miller and his band play Chattanooga Choo Choo, click here.  

 

Kevin has spent time as a long-haul trucker (as any of you who read my posts about riding in the big rig can attest).  For long-haul truckers, the Eisenhower Interstate Highway System has been a God send.  With Kevin in the car, it was no longer a matter of twisting, turning back country roads.  Now we were dealing with miles to cover and how to get to the next destination in the most efficient way.  Nancy's shortest gave way to fastest, in other words.  Well, for the most part.

After the complimentary hotel breakfast, we turned right onto Hamilton Road and left onto I-70, a block north of the hotel.  Nancy (and Mapquest, I might add) wanted us to turn left on Hamilton and take city streets to some point south and west where we would catch I-71.  Instead, we drove west into the center of Columbus where we bore left onto I-71 heading toward Cincinnati, the Ohio River and Kentucky.

We did have a new traveling companion on this leg of the drive.  Hurricane Isaac had hit land a couple of days earlier, devastating the Louisiana lowlands, and moving up the Mississippi River.  By Sunday, September 2, the middle of Labor Day Weekend, Isaac had been downgraded but was pelting the Ohio River Valley with torrential rains.  The storm's path was wide, and we had heard thunder during the night in Columbus.  Most of the day's drive would be in rainy, and sometimes windy conditions.  It was not a day for stopping, admiring the scenery and getting out the camera.

 

A Kentucky Barn

(Near Berea, Kentucky)

We crossed the Ohio, passing from Cincinnati to Covington, Kentucky, home of the Cincinnati airport  (now you know why your luggage tags for Cincinnati are marked CVG--CoVinGton), and continued south across Kentucky on I-75 toward Lexington.  I've spent many a pleasant day in Lexington, and wouldn't have minded getting off the highway to visit  Joseph Beth Booksellers or have lunch at Joe's Crab Shack, but it was not to be.   We also passed by Berea, Kentucky, a place I have wanted to visit for many, many years.  As we drove into London, we saw a sign for Biker's Leathers, and decided that maybe, just maybe, it was time to get off the road for a bit.  Ah yes, it was Sunday of Labor Day Weekend and the leather outlet was closed.  But the truckstop restaurant next door, the one with the huge sign reading "Home Cooking" was open and it was lunch time, more or less.  

The restaurant gave us the choice of getting in line for the steam table buffet or sitting at a booth and having a waitress bring us a menu.  We choose the latter option, and when our waitress arrived at the table, Kevin asked if the sign was correct.  As the walls were covered with signs, the poor woman didn't know what to say until Kevin pointed out the large one reading "It's all good!"  She assured us that it was.  Now I have to admit, I never actually heard her say "Kiss My Grits," but if Florence Jean Castleberry had a human model, it was surely our waitress.

With an order each of Pork Chop Sandwiches in our bellies, we climbed back into the Saab and continued south through the Daniel Boone National Forest and into Tennessee.  Just north of Knoxville, the rain, which had been intermittent all day long, became torrential.  I don't recall ever seeing a rain as heavy, and as I could no longer see the road nor any of the traffic on the road, I became very nervous--not the best state for a driver on the Interstate.  I pulled off the highway and let Kevin take over as he claimed he could see the road.

 

A Rainy I-75 in northern Tennessee

It would get much, much worse

Passing through Knoxville, the weather alternated between heavy rain and overcast, but dry conditions.  Some stretches of the highway actually seemed dry, but then, in a quarter mile or so, we'd be back in the rain.  It reminded me of the Montana saying, "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes."  

At Chattanooga, we missed the opportunity to see (and ride) the Choo-Choo, but left I-75 for I-24 heading west.   Now one of the things I like to capture through the windshield is any sign indicating that we were crossing into a new state.  But I had been relying on Nancy and didn't have a Tennessee map, so the sign saying "We're Glad You're in a Georgia State of Mind" flew by before I could get my camera up and ready.  I mean really, the last milepost I had seen indicated that we still had over one hundred miles of I-24 in Tennessee.  I missed the fact that the road dipped into Georgia, then curved back north into Tennessee to head on to Nashville and points north and west.  We, however, wouldn't as we turned onto I-59 toward Birmingham.

 

 

A Knoxville, Tennessee, residential district

If Interstate 75 is one of the longest sections of the system, running from southern Florida to Sault Sainte Marie on the Michigan/Ontario border, Interstate 59 is one of the shorter sections.  Designed to connect Birmingham, Alabama with New Orleans to the South and Chattanooga to the north, it never actually enters Tennessee due to that dip in I-24.

There are only three Georgia exits from I-59, and we passed each of them, heading into Alabama.  Kevin offered to turn around so I could get the Georgia sign from the southern side, but I said thanks, but no thanks.  We were headed for Bluff Creek Falls, a gay men's campground outside of Steele, Alabama, and I was worried that we might be running out of time.  

I had called Bluff Creek Falls earlier in the morning, asking about the possibility of getting a cabin for the night.  It was Labor Day Weekend, after all, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to find them full up.  On the other hand, Isaac had been playing havoc with people's travel plans for the past week, and I could always hope for the best.  When I called, I was told that at present the campground was full, but I could call back after noon.  We were still on eastern time and Alabama is in the central time zone, so by noon C.D.T. we would be quite far south.  I was pleasantly surprised when a couple hours after my initial call, my phone rang and a man asked if I had called earlier about a reservation.  Indeed I had, and they now had an opening, in Papa Don's cabin.  I quickly reserved it and we had driven south knowing that we had a place for the night.  

I did have some unanswered questions, however.  Some gay campgrounds have cabins that are more like hotel accommodations, and some are more primitive.  A few are like Roseland and have both.  I wasn't sure what would be the case with Bluff Creek, nor did I know if they had any facilities serving meals or selling food.  As we drove south through northern Alabama, these questions became critical.  Best to call and ask, I guessed, and that's what I did.  For future reference, if you're staying at Bluff Creek, bring your own bedding.  Ditto on the food.  We pulled off I-59 at Gadsden, told Nancy to find us a WalMart, and ended up purchasing an entire bedding ensemble, complete with four pillows.  We needed queen-sized sheets for the campground, and knowing that our guest room bed at home also takes that size, I rationalized the purchase as getting an extra set for guests.  We also needed to eat before getting to the campground, so I called On Star and asked if there were a Popeye's or KFC nearby.  Indeed there was--right next to the WalMart parking lot, so Kevin was initiated into Popeye's chicken.

Once at Bluff Creek, we were quickly made to feel part of the family as it were, and once we had made up our bed, we were welcomed into the community and passed a very enjoyable evening.  For the day, we had driven almost 575 miles and had been on the road for close to twelve hours.  I thought this was one of the longest days we would spend on the road.  Boy was I mistaken.

 

 North Georgia's Southern Appalachians

From I-59