Sweet Home (for a time) Alabama

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The Saturday afternoon we arrived at Joe Wheeler State Park was hot and sunny. The park was hopping busy. In fact when we checked in the ranger said the park had been crazy busy for weeks. This park had three campground loops and a large separate section with cabins. It also had a golf course, marina and even a hotel. This is a big park and a favorite destination of Alabamans.

We had driven most of the way from Tupelo on the Natchez Trace. It was a gorgeously green and sylvan drive. We wound through woods, passed fields and over hills through northern Mississippi. We had been on the Trace briefly when we left Natchez. That was its beginning. Now we were seeing it some 300 miles north. It would continue all the way to Nashville and is actually managed by the National Park Service which accounts for its pristine state.

Along the Trace there were places to stop for picnics, nature trails and we even saw three Indian Mounds. We crossed the state line into Alabama and then we crossed the Tennessee River on a very pretty bridge. It is a wide and very beautiful river at this point. Shortly thereafter, we left the Trace for a county highway which led us through Florence and to our park just east of the town.

Almost every site at Joe Wheeler was occupied. Our site backed on a hill over Wheeler Lake which was just visible through the trees. We got unhitched and Dakota and I set off to walk the campground.

Walking the loops is always a good way to get oriented to a new park. It is fun to check out everyone’s rig and see what they are up to. This park was full of families and groups of friends hanging out at their campfires, cooking and chatting. Kids were running and biking on the campground road and Dakota received his usual due. He is always very patient and friendly when little hands thump him on the head and run their fingers through his fur.

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Storms were predicted for the next day but it looked like they would hold off until afternoon. Jim had discovered some paved hiking trails just next to the Wilson Dam and that was our destination. Our site neighbor, from Nashville, had confirmed ticks were prevalent in the park.

The Wilson Dam is in Muscle Shoals. The drive took us about 40 minutes through the countryside. The Wilson Dam site is on the Tennessee Valley Power Reservation. We stopped at the Visitors Center with an overlook to the dam. This is one of the oldest and largest hydroelectric plants in the country.

Before the Tennessee River was dammed, this whole area was impoverished. It was subject to frequent floods making farming a frustrating experience doomed to periodic failure. The flooding also caused much disease, small pox and cholera, in addition to starvation. Poor crop management had depleted the soil adding still more deprivation to the area.

Wilson Dam was built in 1918 by the Army Corps of Engineers to provide power for nitrate production during WWI. Once the war ended, that need no longer existed, but the dam had proven it could improve the quality of life in the area and Wilson Dam became the foundation of what would be the TVA.

It wasn’t clear to us if there was an actual Visitors Center at the dam, but we stopped at several interpretive displays. They gave us a good background about the dam and the history of the TVA. The dam was very impressive up close with water pouring through the 49 spillway gates at a prodigious pace. Inside 21 Francis turbines powered energy production. They are the most efficient in use now and generate 663 megawatts of power each day.

We had intended to walk a loop appropriately called the Energy Trail. We tried unsuccessfully to find one end of the trail by the Visitors Center. We drove a ways up Reservation Road to find another point of entry. Unsuccessful again, we took a path instead which led us to the base of the dam and a series of pretty waterfalls which spilled over a high rocky wall. Dakota waded in the cool water pooling at the base of the cascades.

We strolled back to the truck and decided to head over the O’Neal Bridge back to Florence. The TVA had been a fascinating learning experience, but there didn’t seem to be much else to see in Muscle Shoals.

Muscle Shoals and Florence are sort of sister cities in this area. But locals refer to the entire region as the Shoals. The topography is distinguished by the myriad lakes and rivers. Everywhere you look there is some sort of body of water. It is a paradise for fishermen and boaters.

We drove back through Florence on the same highway we had driven the day before. We continued east past the entrance to Joe Wheeler and on to Rogersville. We were trolling for a Red Box to rent a couple videos to entertain us during the expected storm. We never did come upon a Red Box, but we did find a spot for barbecue. Whitt’s was a drive up restaurant with a front porch for dining. We stopped for lunch.

The sky to our west was dark and heavy with forbidding clouds. We sat on the front porch of the barbecue place and watched the clouds draw closer and closer. Rain began to fall, but we were dry and continued dining. Just then the wind exploded and the storm broke. We grabbed our lunch before it was whipped away by the gusting winds. A siren went off and with concern we asked the restaurant staff if they knew what it was. They seemed equally concerned and uncertain. Fire trucks streamed past on the road and Jim dashed to get the truck.

It was impossible to run two feet through the deluge without getting completely soaked. Poor Dakota and the entire interior of the truck were soaked as well since we had left the windows cracked open for him. There was almost no visibility as we drove through the torrents back to the park. We were soaked and nervous.

The park had emptied during our absence. Families had headed home to start the work week or perhaps to avoid the storm. We were now almost completely alone. We switched on the tv to get the weather report. There were tornado warnings throughout the area and it was clear from the map that the front had hit us while we were at the barbecue place.

We watched the news reports and finished our interrupted lunch. It was really good barbecue, way too good to waste. The weather bulletins were interrupting one of the NCAA tournament broadcasts and the weathermen were repeatedly apologizing as they updated the deadly storm’s progress. They were getting slammed on social media for co-opting the game. We could hear the storm hitting the station’s roof with rain and hail as they broadcast. We continued to monitor the weather until the danger was past.

The rest of the evening was quiet and uneventful. We opened the trailer windows and enjoyed the cool air. The smoke from a distant campfire drifted through the open windows. We watched a local PBS broadcast on Alabama’s privately-owned forests. Seventy percent of Alabama is covered in privately-owned forest. Only 7% of the state’s land is government owned. Forestry is obviously a significant economic factor. Property taxes have historically been kept quite low to encourage landowners to hold their land and manage the forests. This provides timber, recreational areas, supports wildlife and controls pests. It all sounded quite wonderful and we were sorry we wouldn’t be seeing more of Alabama.

The next morning the sky was sparkling clear, but the temperature was quite cool and the wind fairly strong. We wanted to spend some time exploring Florence and kicked it off with a visit to the Visitor’s Center.

A charming woman greeted us at the Visitor’s Center. She armed us with a brochure offering a walking tour of historic Florence. We had a nice chat and I picked up another brochure detailing “100 Dishes to Eat in Alabama.” Sadly, I would leave 99 uneaten, but the one we enjoyed made it all worthwhile.

Much of historic Florence is clustered around the campus of the University of North Alabama. Designed by the sons of Frederic Law Olmsted, who designed the campus of Smith, UNA’s roots go back to 1830 and the founding of LaGrange College. It was later relocated and renamed Florence Wesleyan University. The campus had recently been restored with landscaping and trees in keeping with its original design.

We parked the truck on Walnut Street near the campus and walked the three blocks consisting of the Walnut Street Historic District. The houses ranged from Victorian to Arts and Crafts bungalows. The street was quiet and tree-lined.

We turned on to Tuscaloosa Street and walked the block past the Wood Avenue Church of Christ and right again on to Wood Avenue.

This street was quite a bit busier with traffic. The houses were impressive as well, but less attractive due to the rushing traffic. The architecture ranged again from massive Victorians to more modern bungalows.

After walking both Walnut Street and Wood Avenue and admiring the pretty homes, we headed back to the shopping district and a stop at Trowbridges for our must-eat Alabama treat. Little did we know Trowbridge’s itself was quite a treat.

Seated in a booth, we ordered Trowbridge’s renowned Orange-Pineapple Ice Cream from a very friendly young waitress with a delightfully thick accent. It was an incentive to chat with her just to hear her speak. The ice cream was completely delicious. The color was magnificent and little bits of pineapple speckled the lovely orange color. We savored our ice cream as we savored the ambiance at Trowbridge’s.

It was late afternoon when we headed back to Joe Wheeler and our Airstream. We had had two really fun days exploring Muscle Shoals and Florence. We had a thrilling encounter with a deadly storm, learned about the Tennessee Valley Authority and visited the Wilson Dam and perambulated through Florence’s lovely streets. It was a successful and all too short visit to Alabama

Restoration East of the Mississippi

The Arkansas we drove through after leaving Cane Creek flattened out and the sun burned down on the planted fields. We were heading south and east. This seemed to be mostly farm country with small towns parsed along the highway.

At McGehee we passed the Japanese Internment Camp Museum. Sadly, it was closed and we could not stop. It was late April and the thermostat already registered over 80 degrees in late morning. There were two internment camps in southeastern Arkansas, one in Jerome and one in Rohwer. Most of the Japanese interned in the two camps here were relocated from California. Life had to have been incredibly difficult and uncomfortable. The climate was tough, not the gentler climate they must have known in California. The camps were spartan at best. These people were held for years. The Museum opened four years ago. George Takei, who was interned at Rohwer as a small child, was on hand for the occasion. That was big news in these parts.

We flew across the graceful Greenville Bridge over the Mississippi at Greenville. Built in 2010, this was the fourth longest cable-stayed bridge in North America when it opened. It replaced an older bridge which was obsolete. There aren’t that many places to cross the Mississippi. We were back on the eastern side of this dividing line. We were back in a state which had earlier charmed us with its beauty and the grace of Natchez.

Our destination was Grenada Lake just outside of Grenada, MS. We were staying at the North Abutment Campground which proved to be nestled at the northern end of the Grenada Dam.

We didn’t quite know all of this at the time. What we did know was that Grenada was a fair-sized town in central northern Mississippi. We drove through town noting that every fast food chain one could imagine was represented. Blindly following the GPS instructions, we left town along Scenic Highway 333. The road wound through woods. We really didn’t have a clue where we were going and struggled to read the signs.

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Suddenly we broke out of the woods and the most enormous lake appeared to our right.We both exclaimed at the gorgeous blue water reflected under blue skies with fantastically puffy white clouds. We crossed the 2.6 mile length of the mighty Grenada Dam and found our campground at its northern end.

The Yazoo Headwater Project which created Grenada Lake with the construction of the eponymous dam was completed in 1954. Built by the Army Corps of Engineers, this was a massive project. Designed to protect approximately 1.5 milliion acres of the Yazoo River Basin from flooding, it also provided endless opportunities for outdoor recreation.

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Those army engineers weren’t fooling around. We drove across the enormous dam admiring the lake to our right and, far below to the left, the protected valley and the Yalobusha River flowing through it.

The North Abutment campground consisted of two separate camping areas. Unlike most parks, there was no real entrance gate and we felt our way to the site which had been designated on our reservation.

This was the flattest, longest and most perfect campsite ever constructed. We barely bothered to check our side to side and front to back levels. Of course, when we did, they were perfect. Even more perfect was the breathtaking view. Jim dubbed this the country club of campgrounds and he was right.

Early in the week, the campground was pretty empty. We relished the delightful weather, the gorgeous view and the serenity. It was deeply restorative.

We had only two nights booked at North Abutment. That left us with one day to enjoy the place. We didn’t do much at all. We relaxed at our campsite. Oddly enough, we almost never sit around relaxing. Unless the weather is bad, we tend to be out and exploring. It was a nice respite to spend some time reading and knitting and listening to music.

In the afternoon we made one brief foray into town. There were a couple trails to hike, but we didn’t have the heart for it. We talked a lot about the need to avoid ticks moving forward. To say we were obsessively haunted would not be totally overstating things. We needed to undertake a tick avoidance program (TAP). Hiking those trails didn’t seem worth it.

Grenada Lake is a big destination for fishermen. The lake when full in summer consists of 35,000 acres of water. It boasts 148 miles of shoreline. In the winter they draw down the water and it shrinks to less than a third of its summer size. At flood level the dam can hold back 64,000 acres of water and the shoreline swells to 282 miles. The whole project is immense.

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We hated to leave after our second night. We toyed with staying another day, but rain was predicted and it seemed best to move on and keep to our schedule. Hitching up was a dream on our perfect pad. The truck and trailer practically hitched themselves and we headed out to the next adventure.