Did you ever plan a trip that you were forced to change at the last minute? The idiom, ‘the best laid plans,’ often describes disappointment. I found it anything but that, when I was forced to scuttle mine.
Financial services is fraught with pressure, and a good outlet for me is physical exercise. A former marathon runner, my knees begged me to switch to road cycling a few years ago, and as much as I miss the “runner’s high,” careening down a bike path with the wind at my back is a close second. This year, after spending months in Palm Beach working with clients, I opted to take a longer way home by driving to Sarasota for business, and then making my way to Natchez, Mississippi from Florida’s west coast. I planned to spend a couple of days riding the Natchez Trace, which extends 444 miles to Nashville, Tennessee. (Trust me, I had no intention of riding that far, but figured 40 miles each day could be a welcome reprieve.)
An entrance to the Natchez Trace Parkway, courtesy of Google Images
But fate intervened, and I took a bad fall, which made me apprehensive about setting out on the ride, uncertain whether I still had my ‘sea legs.’ I opted to spend the time touring this quaint town of 14,000 friendly inhabitants, indulge myself in its rich history, and take in the tranquility of the Mississippi River.
Inspired by reading “Life on the Mississippi: An Epic American Adventure,” by Rinker Buck, I had an idea of what I’d find in Natchez. Buck’s book chronicled his recent trip down the mighty river on a flat boat, and his description of Natchez was fascinating. Settled by former army officers from the French and Indian War, which then became the site of plantations and beautiful mansions, it came under American control when we purchased it from Spain. Strategically located north of New Orleans, Natchez benefited from exporting products to New Orleans and Europe and to northern cities in the U.S. And, yes, Natchez played a part in the sordid slave trade.
Natchez’s antebellum mansions lost their sheen after the Civil War. Although no battles were fought in Natchez, the town was occupied by Union forces, with General Gresham inhabiting the front rooms of Rosalie Mansion, even taking meals with its owners in the elegant dining room.
Rosalie Mansion, courtesy Google Images
Built by Peter Little in 1823, he and his wife, Eliza, lived at Rosalie throughout their 45-year marriage. She passed away, as did he three years later, and his will, written to provide for her after his death, was declared invalid. The beautiful estate, with breathtaking views of the Mississippi River, was sold at auction. Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Wilson purchased it, but they fell on hard times at the end of the Civil War (a common occurrence that befell so many, with no money to plant crops and no free labor to harvest them) and their descendants eventually sold it. Stunning during its heyday, Rosalie Mansion has been restored to much of its original splendor. If you have time to see only two mansions in Natchez, Rosalie and Longwood should be on your list.
The Grand Hotel, where I stayed for two days nursing my bruises, boasts old-world elegance with stunning views of the Mississippi River, which my room on the third floor provided. The river was a peaceful respite as I walked along its path each morning. The hotel staff was welcoming and attentive, and I envisioned well-heeled guests of yesteryear, dressed to the nines (back when people thought traveling worthy of their sartorial best), disembarking from coaches with their bevy of trunks.
The Grand Hotel, Natchez, courtesy of Google Images
The 1818 Restaurant, housed in the Monmouth Historic Inn, was better than advertised. I’d made a dinner reservation for the bar, but when I arrived, it was too secluded. The wait staff were quick to accommodate me in the dining room, where I treated myself to a decadent chocolate pecan pie for dessert that was the impetus for an eight-mile walk the next morning.
Monmouth Historic Inn and 1818 Restaurant
Given my truncated bike ride, I had an extra day before my next stop, so opted to drive north to Vicksburg to visit the National Military Park, scene of the decisive Union victory that combined with Gettysburg brought an end to the Civil War.
Vicksburg was “the nailhead that holds the South’s two halves together,” according to the Confederacy’s President, Jefferson Davis.
Illinois Memorial, Vicksburg National Military Park, courtesy of Google Images
Controlling Vicksburg was vital to the North: Isolating the Confederates’ supply lines from Texas, Arkansas and much of Louisiana was the key to victory. President Abraham Lincoln declared, “The war can never be brought to a close until that key is in our pocket.” In May 1863, U.S. Grant defeated Lt. General John Pemberton’s army in a decisive battle, with more than 37,000 combined Union and Confederate casualties. He exacted a further toll by placing the city under a 47-day siege that lasted until July 4, when Vicksburg surrendered, coinciding with the Battle of Gettysburg that turned the tide of the war. (The inhabitants’ diet of rats was in stark contrast to my scrumptious repast at 1818 Restaurant in Natchez the night before.)
The park consists of a 16-mile road studded with various monuments, fortifications, and regimental markers, culminating at the U.S.S. Cairo Museum, where I walked on the deck of a since-restored navy gunboat that had sunk. Miraculously, all aboard survived.
It was a sobering experience to drive through the park and observe the aftermath of the battle that hastened the end of the terrible war symbolizing the darkest point in our country’s history. With accusations of racism running rampant in this divided time, I wonder whether those shrilling the loudest have an inkling of the sacrifice the Union made to dismantle the ugly institution of slavery, or how much death and destruction were suffered by the South that sought to preserve it.
Southern cities are known for their charm and graciousness, and I received a welcome dose of both. As I made my way home to the northeast via Interstate 59, I was grateful my thwarted plans turned into a memorable visit. Riding the Natchez Trace is still on my bucket list. Maybe next year.