Sufficing to say, for the moment, I'm living and working at an environmental education center called Crow's Neck (www.crowsneck.org) in Tishomingo county, Mississippi. For those who care about geography, Tishomingo is in the northeast corner of the state, right next to Alabama and Tennessee.
Getting here was an adventure--we (myself and my partner in crime, Russell) packed up my pickup, newly furnished with a camper shell and a carpeted bed, and headed towards the southeast. We made stops at the Salton Sea in California (a surreal place), visited my grandma and aunt in Glendale, AZ (so enjoyable to visit them!), then went up to Flagstaff for a bit, where we happened to pick up some hitchhikers (5 smelly people in a truck cab with 3 dogs makes for an interesting situation and conversation), camped in Blue Lake State Park New Mexico, brunched and wandered in Albuquerque, spent about a week and a half in Spearman TX, a small town in the high plains of the panhandle right near Oklahoma, moseyed down to Austin for a few days (my new favorite US city) and visited friends, toured around San Antonio (I learned part of why Texans consider themselves their own country after visiting the Alamo), ate pupusas in Houston with Joel, Cristina's son, rambled around the French Quarter in New Orleans (I played craps unsuccessfully and had my first alligator po' boy), camped at a lake near Meridian MS (got a taste of southern RV park hospitality--it tastes like eggs on biscuits with coffee), visited friends in Huntsville Alabama (and saw a band where the guitarist wore overalls and made his guitars from cigar boxes), and finally made it over to Tishomingo 21 days, 50 hours of driving, countless cups of mate, 8 states, 2 time zones, and 1 bag of beef jerky later.
Whew!
Coming to "the South" has been wonderful. I truly believe that I never knew what live music was until I traveled through and east of Texas. It's everywhere, every day, and of every kind. One thing nearly all of the songs have in common though is place. They're all deeply rooted in their sense of place, of history. And the talent---oh my lord. In New Orleans, we stumbled across a place that had about 20 young musicians, all incredible, take the stage to solo for the duration of a tune that lasted about 45 minutes. Everyone rotating in and out, except for the bass and drummer, who kept it all going. In Austin, we went to "hippie church", eating Mexican food and drinking in gospel music for brunch. In Nashville, a woman called "Mississippi Minnie" crooned some delta tunes while alternating between spoons and a washboard tie.
Here at Crow's Neck, we're doing our duty as naturalists doing environmental education at a place that was created as part of a negotiation to quell environmentalists. It's situated on Bay Springs "Lake", a man made body of water that forms part of the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway. The "Tenn-Tom", as it's affectionately known, was the largest engineering project undertaken (even larger than the Panama Canal), by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
In the late 70s, it was decided that since the Mississippi River was getting crowded with barges for the transportation of goods, and that it was difficult for certain goods to get there, they would dig a canal to connect the Tennessee and Tombigbee rivers, with a series of locks and dams along the way. In a few years, after "stimulating" this region's economy with jobs and buying people's land from them, deforesting thousands of acres, and displacing tons of soil, the Tenn-Tom was opened up and water trickled uncertainly down paths it had never cut through before. Fish and animals that had formerly only known the Tennessee were to meet foreign friends downstream. And Bay Springs Lake was formed, as a recreational area.
We got the unique chance to visit the lock and dam (unique because after 9-11, all dams have been closed to tourists), which is incredible. It's pretty quiet, though, with only a few ships coming down each day. Turns out, the ambitious undertaking that was supposed to boost the economy and improve the states of MS and AL hasn't been economically positive. But, they still need to continue pumping people through and living with the consequences. And really, it is breathtaking to experience how drastically the landscape has been changed by human involvement firsthand.
Anyway, Crow's Neck is really a beautiful place (a lake view from my bedroom isn't too shabby), and the Army Corps of Engineers has some great rangers. And I just kayaked out on the lake at sunset today. It is what it is.
Venison is delicious, but I could take or leave fried catfish. The ecosystems around here are similar, yet so different to California's. It reminds me more of El Salvador, with the humidity, the sudden downpours, the cicadas, the warmth of the people, the corrugated iron.
And by the way, I'm in love. :)
