If you look at a satellite map and zone in on southern Louisiana, you'll see that the Mississippi River branches out into several water channels. Before dumping into the Gulf of Mexico, the channels run through skinny fingers of land, and on the last day of our road trip we take Highway 23 down one of these peninsulas to Venice. A two-hour drive from New Orleans, the town is the most southern community on the Mississippi accessible by automobile and many refer to it as the end of the world.
Our drive through the lower Mississippi River delta immerses us in a landscape that's long and flat, vast and mysterious, even mystical. The land rises only an inch or so above sea level and it is so low-lying that at a distance it disappears into a blend of sky and water. The road is surrounded on either side by levees, which serve as protection when the Mississippi water level rises, and as we drive I feel as if the smallest wave could cover us in water.
Highway 23 also offers a front-row view of Hurricane Katrina damage. The storm hit southeastern Louisiana on August 29, 2005, and it completely destroyed Venice and nearby towns, leaving them 10 to 20 feet under water. We pass demolished homes, fire stations, and grocery stores with sunken roofs, broken windows, and fallen walls. Rusty cars are piled high in open fields; dejected boats clutter the roadside.
While the devastation is apparent, signs of rebirth are even more discernible. The community has worked hard to rebuild and new construction is everywhere. We drive by countless new homes, most of them lifted high up off the ground on stilts. The kids spot a shiny new playground, constructed with funds from Project Rebuild Plaquemines, a nonprofit organization established after the hurricane to assist with restoration of the area. A sign reads: "This park is dedicated to those whose lives were forever changed by Katrina--those who lost so much and those whose generosity helped to restore what was lost. Let it be known that this storm has marked us and changed us, but we have persevered." It's a gorgeous playground but nobody is there.
Where do you grab a bite to eat at the end of the world? The Riverside Cafe in Venice is one of the few places. We walk into a dimly lit room with deer trophies decorating the walls. A few men wearing rubber boots that ride up past their knees sit around picnic tables. We're clearly the only people eating in the restaurant who don't work on a fishing boat or an oil platform. We order some fried catfish, which tastes as if it was just pulled out of the river.
Our waitress, Leslie Smith, tells us the restaurant was under 15 feet of water after Katrina. She says that's why the mural of a swamp on the back wall is faded. It was painted by a French man who traveled through town, bedded down with the cafe owners, and paid for his keep by painting the back wall of their restaurant. "We're so glad the mural survived," Smith says. "It's special."
Smith was born and raised in Venice. She moved up the road to Belle Chasse after Katrina hit but eventually came back to her hometown and now teaches at the K-12 school that she attended as a child. "Why did you come back?" I ask her. "There's no place like home," she says. "And that's how 90 percent of the people who lived here before Katrina felt. People wanted to come back. They moved into tents because their homes were demolished. They wanted to live here on this land."
We drive 10 miles down the road beyond the cafe, past a marina where some fishing boats are docked. This is a popular spot for sport-fishing, and the few outsiders who do visit this part of the world come to catch fish.
As we head further south, water laps up against the road and sections are under several inches of water. Egrets and cranes wade through the small lakes. The birds get thicker and thicker and we have to drive slowly. The road suddenly ends. A sign reads: "You have reached the southern most point in Louisiana." We stop to take photos of the sign. A crab scurries across the road. We drove over 2,5000 miles to reach the mouth of the river--and taking a few photos of the sign doesn't satisfy us. I want a more poignant conclusion to our trip. We decide that we'd like to rent a motor boat and travel further down the river and so we follow signs to Bud's Boat Rentals. On the way we meet a friendly pelican who probably would have let me touch him if I tried.
It turns out that Bud's doesn't rent boats to families like us. Rather the business runs supply boats between Venice and the oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico. We learn this from Roy Mareno, Jr., who is sitting behind a big desk.
The dark gray clouds outside start dumping rain and so we give up on our plans to find a boat rental. Instead we pull up chairs in Mareno's office. He's a bivocational minister, working as a manager at Bud's and as a pastor at a church in nearby Port Sulphur. When he tells us about his town he's passionate and intense. I can easily picture him speaking to his congregation.
Mareno tells us about enduring Katrina and about the tight-knit community who pulled through the storm. We ask him why people would want to come back to this area that's so vulnerable and clearly exposed to Mother Nature's forces. That's when he starts to tell us about the fish he pulls out of the water and the alligators that come out in the early evening and about the cranes that are pink because they eat so much shrimp. He was born and raised in Venice and he cherishes the area's natural beauty. He's not leaving.
We have been following the river for over two weeks; the river has worked its way into our souls and at the end of our journey it somehow seems fitting to meet someone who has a deep, spiritual connection to the river.
This isn't my best pie photograph but I can assure you that the pictured pecan pie from the Camellia Grill in New Orleans is the best slice that I ate along the Mississippi River. If only I had a professional photographer along with me on my road trip, he could have brought alive this decadent dessert.
Instead, I'll attempt to describe it. The sweet custard filling is thick with chunks of fresh pecans; the crust is buttery, flaky, perfectly crisp. Our waiter warms the pie on the grill and then tops it with a heaping scoop of Blue Bell French vanilla ice cream. Our family of four fights like cats and dogs for every single bite. If we weren't traveling on a budget of $150 a day, we certainly would order a second slice. Rating: 5.
The Camellia Grill in New Orleans's Uptown District, only a block from the banks of the river, has been dishing up Southern fare since 1946. It's an old-school diner but has a lot of class with white marble counter tops, cloth napkins, and bow-tied waiters. It's the sort of place where you belly up to the counter and order a big, sloppy burger, a chocolate freeze, and of course a slice of pecan pie. But before you dig in, you put your napkin in your lap.
Low point of the day: Our plan is to drive from Baton Rouge to New Orleans and head directly for Mother's Restaurant for a soft shell crab sandwich. Ten years ago, my husband and I ate a crab po-boy at this institution that has been dishing up creole fare since 1938, and we have been craving another one ever since. As soon as we pull off the freeway, we're stuck in gridlock traffic. We finally arrive at Mother's but there's a line out the door that's wrapped around the block. It's 2 p.m. The kids are starving and screaming. We look for another option.
High point of the day: For lunch, we end up at Johnny's. Opened in 1950, it claims to be the city's oldest family-owned po-boy restaurant. We split a fried shrimp po-boy and a bowl of gumbo (pictured above), both taste fresh and delicious. Then it's off to Cafe du Monde for beignets (French doughnuts), chunks of fried dough covered in powdered sugar. Our bellies are happy.
Sound bite of the day: The Natchez paddle wheel (pictured above) is the only steamboat still operating out of New Orleans and as we watch it cruise down the river, we feel like Tom Sawyer pining for a ride. When the boat docks to unload passengers, we intercept captain Donald Houghton and he shares some history with us.
Quote of the day: "Why is it so stinky?" my 6-year-old daughter asks as we're taking in the stale, sour smell on Bourbon Street, party central in New Orleans.
Photo of the day: Boas galore on Bourbon Street.
Quote of the day: "Why is it so stinky?" my 6-year-old daughter asks as we're taking in the stale, sour smell on Bourbon Street, party central in New Orleans.
Quote of the day: "Why is it so stinky?" my 6-year-old daughter asks as we're taking in the stale, sour smell on Bourbon Street, party central in New Orleans.
Sound bite: Along the southern stretch of the Mississippi River between Vicksburg, Miss., and New Orleans, La., you'll find dozens of historic sugar plantation estates--mansions of grand design that were once surrounded by fields of indigo, cotton, and sugar cane. In Natchez, Miss., we tour one of these homes. Longwood's story is particularly interesting because the estate was half-finished when the Civil War broke out. In 1861, the construction workers dropped their tools and fled North, leaving behind an elegant octagonal home with an unfinished interior. If you tour today, you can see the same tools right where workers left them--it's as if time stopped.
Addie McLemore is our tour guide. She is a hostess for the Natchez Garden Club that maintains many of the town's plantation homes.
High point of the day: Face painting, snow cones, a band playing patriotic songs, fireworks shot from a barge in the middle of the Mississippi, and World War II jet planes "attacking" a destroyer ship--Baton Rouge goes all out at their Fourth of July festival that takes over the riverfront.
Low point of the day: It's 5 p.m. and it must be 100 degrees outside because we're tempted to take off our clothes and jump in the river. Probably not the best idea during Baton Rouge's Fourth of July festival that attracts some 100,000 people. So instead we join others who are cooling off by sticking their feet in a fountain. It's not long before our kids are swimming in the fountain--and that's when the cops arrive. Busted!
Photo of the day: Mark Twain called Baton Rouge's Old State Capitol a "monstrosity," but my kids refer to the Gothic Revival building overlooking the river as a castle. "A princess must live there," my daughter says. The state house remained in use until 1932 and it's now a museum with exhibits detailing the voting process, the assassination of former governor Huey Long, and the statehood and history of Louisiana.
Miles: 90
Total miles: 2429
Hours in the car: 2
Total hours in the car: 50
Weather: The thermometer officially reads 100 degrees.
Sound bite of the day: The Mississippi River was important in the Civil War because whoever controlled the river controlled the nation, and Vicksburg, Miss., built atop a 300-foot-high bluff overlooking a bend in the river, occupied perhaps the most strategic location. President Abraham Lincoln called Vicksburg "the key" and believed that "the war can never be brought to a close until that key is in our pocket." In 1862, at the height of the war, Lincoln ordered Ulysses S. Grant to seize Vicksburg from the Confederacy. After nine months of fighting and a 47-day siege on July 4, 1863, the Confederates surrendered Vicksburg.
We spend the morning touring the Vicksburg National Military Park, where over 1,340 monuments, a restored Union gunboat, and a National Cemetery commemorate the campaign, siege, and defense of Vicksburg. We watch a re-enactment of the firing of a Civil War cannon and talk to seasonal ranger Will Wilson.
Low point of the day: Tamales are a popular Southern dish so we seek some out for dinner at Fat Mama's Tamales in Natchez., Miss. The restaurant is cheerful with brightly colored Mexican oilcloth covering the tables but everyone is smoking. Coming from California where cigarettes are no longer allowed in restaurants, we're not used to dinning in a cloud of smoke. But we still enjoy the tamales (pictured above), small cakes of masa filled with spicy ground beef. We pay only $6 for a dozen.
Photo of the day: Old paddle wheel boats parked along the river are now occupied by casinos. This is a photo of one in Natchez.
High point of the day: In Natchez, fireworks are the night before the Fourth of July. We gather with the rest of the town along the riverfront and watch the glittery spectacle.
How do you know if you're eating a good slice of pie? You know because it makes you weak in the knees. At least that's the criteria I set in my first blog post about my hunt for the best slice of pie along the Mississippi River. Well, the chocolate cream from Rusty's Riverside Grill in Vicksburg, Miss., certainly did the trick and we limped back to the restaurant the next day for a second slice of this scrumptious dessert with a creamy filling that tastes like a melted dark chocolate bar. Crust: perfectly crisp though slightly tasteless. It was more cracker than cookie like, but the rich filling made up for it. Rating: 4.
I'm noticing a trend: The pie seems to get more delicious the farther south we go. Looking forward to New Orleans...
High point of the day: We veered off the Great River Road to stay over in Jackson, Miss., and the rich, flavorful Senegalese chicken peanut soup (pictured above) we devour at Steve's Downtown Deli makes each and every extra mile worth it. Steve himself is behind the counter and we learn that he grew up on the Mississippi River in Natchez, Miss. Everyone in the south seems to have a river connection.
Low point of the day: We arrive in Vicksburg and head for the riverfront. There's a fabulous park with a fountain where kids can get wet (pictured above). My son wanders off and finds a fire ant nest. Ouch! We throw him into the fountain to get the little buggers off, but he still ends up with bites all over his body.
Photo of the day: Echos of the Civil War are everywhere in Vicksburg, the site of a 47-day siege in which the Union gained control of the Mississippi River. At the Cedar Grove Mansion restaurant, we find an apple-size cannon ball that has been embedded in the wall ever since Union armies came down the river and blasted cannons at the homes along the banks.
Sound bite of the day: Joe works at the bar at the Cedar Grove Mansion. He makes us a mint julep and then shares the recipe.
Miles: 60
Total miles: 2259
Hours in the car: 1
Total hours in the car: 46
Weather: The further South we go, the hotter it seems to get.
Low point of the day: Visiting Graceland in Memphis would cost nearly $100 after we pay for admission and parking. A tour of Elvis's home would break the budget. We do a drive-by so we can at least see the estate and my daughter throws a screaming fit: "I want to go inside Elvis's house!" My son chimes in when he notices the deceased rock star's fleet of airplanes peeking above the walls surrounding the compound.
High point of the day: For half the price of one ticket to Graceland, our family of four gets into the Mud Island River Park in Memphis. The kids cool off by wading through the Mississippi Riverwalk--the winding 1,000-mile journey of the lower river reproduced in a one-half mile concrete sculpture, complete with flowing water.
Quote of the day: "I love this sandwich so much," says my 6-year-old daughter, after biting into a salami and cheese sub. "This is the best thing I have ever eaten. I could eat this every day." She's not talking about a sandwich from a down-home local joint; she's raving about Subway. We're in a rush to get to Indianola, Miss., by 3 p.m. to meet a friend of a friend who works at the new B.B. King Museum, so we break our "no fast-food restaurants" rule. My husband who despises Subway is revolted by his sandwich and my daughter's words, but I'll have to admit that my "Chicken Tuscan," which I stuff with potato chips, tastes pretty good.
Photo of the day: The B.B. King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center opened September 2009 in Indianola to honor a local boy who has become an internationally recognized blues star. The $15 million dollar museum is housed in a renovated cotton gin, where B.B. worked as a teen, as well as a sleek modern addition. Inside, exhibits use the history of B.B.'s life to tell the story of blues, an indigenous American music that sprang up from the cotton fields, street corners and juke joints of the Mississippi Delta. Highlights include a guitar studio where you can make your own music and B.B.'s actual recording studio, exactly the way he left it before curators arrived at his house to pack it up and put it on display at the museum.
Sound bite of the day: Ann Jennings Shackelford is a friend of a friend and she and her husband have a cotton farm near the Mississippi River in Arkansas. Every day, Shackelford travels across the river to Indianola to the B.B. King Museum where she's the communications director. She gives us the lowdown on the museum:
Most emotional part of the day: At the museum, we watch a video about B.B. performing his first San Francisco concert at the Filmore in 1967. The audience is filled with long-haired hippies and B.B. has never played for a white crowd before. "I thought my manager made a mistake but then they all stood up and applauded. I started crying," says B.B. as he recounts the memory in the video."
Low low point of the day: After a tasty meal of fried catfish at Pea-Soup's Lott-A-Freeze in Indianola, we hop on the freeway full and happy and head for Jackson--until a highway patrolman stops us. This time my husband isn't speeding. He gets caught driving in the left lane--rather than the right--that is for passing. We get off again with a warning.
Miles: 260
Total miles: 2199
Hours in the car: 5
Total hours in the car: 45
Expenses
Hotel: $72.50 (Best Western Executive Inn, Memphis; this hotel is run by a friendly, hospitable family; hot breakfast with waffles)
Admission: $18.90 (Mud Island River Park; we save $3 on admission because we're AAA members!)
Let me count the ways we have saved money with our AAA membership on our Missisippi road trip...
No. 1: Hotels. We're traveling for over two weeks and every night we get 10 percent off the cost of our hotel room. This will save us some $150 over the course of our trip.
No. 2: AAA Discounts iPhone app. This handy new free application pinpoints services offering AAA discounts near you. When we were in Memphis, the application alerted us that we could save on admission to the Mud Island River Park. Our family of four got $3 off the total admission price. Every little bit counts when you're traveling on a budget of $150 a day.
No. 3: Maps, TourBooks, and TripTik routings. We loaded up on all of these before taking off on our trip--and because we're AAA members all of these were free. The TourBooks are helping us track down sites and attractions and the maps are helpful when the GPS gets it wrong. And I'm an especially big fan of the TripTiks, which offer up detailed, accurate turn-by-turn directions. Before going on the trip, we printed out several for routes between all of our hotels.
Not a AAA member? Become one by clicking here: aaa.com.
Photo of the day: Stuck behind a tractor on the way to Memphis, Tenn.
Sound bite of the day: The American Indians who lived in the lower Mississippi Valley, known as the Mississippians, around 1000 AD left their mark on the landscape with the elaborate complexes of mounds they constructed along the river. They piled rock and soil to create burial grounds and platforms for ceremonies and important structures such as the chief's home. We visit one of these at Wickliffe Mounds in Kentucky, and park manager Carla Hildebrand tells us about the state historic site.
Low point of the day: The film we watch about the 1811 earthquake at the Historical Museum in New Madrid, Mo. (pictured above) is riveting--yet it leaves me feeling unsettled. This town that sits right on the Mississippi was the epicenter and its inhabitants supposedly saw the river switch directions and flow upstream for a moment. At a magnitude over 8.0, the earthquake was the largest in recorded American history, and more than 2,000 tremors, some as strong as the first, were felt through 1812. The earthquakes were felt strongly over 50,000 square miles; the historic 1906 San Francisco earthquake was felt over 6,000 square miles.
Quote of the day: "I want to be in an earthquake," says my 4-year-old son who has yet to fully experience the earth shaking. "Can the guy in the museum make an earthquake for us?"
High point of the day: Our evening in Memphis begins at the Rendezvous, where my husband and I share a pitcher of beer and a full-rack of dry-rub ribs. My kids split a salami and cheese sandwich, which my daughter deems the best thing she has ever eaten. Later on Beale Street, we catch Gary Hardy and Memphis2, a Johnny Cash cover band, at Blues City Cafe. Hardy belts out Cash's ballads about prisons, trains, and heartaches with the same deep groaning voice as the man in black. When he covers "Big River" and mentions many of the places we have visited on our trip--St. Paul, St. Louis, Davenport--we feel as if he has created a song for us but the lyrics are actually about chasing a woman down the Mississippi.
Photo of the day: Our tight budget doesn't allow us to take the elevator to the top of the St. Louis Gateway Arch, rising 630 feet above the Mississippi riverfront. But we stop to take a few photos and walk underneath Eero Saarinen's graceful rainbow of shining steel.
High point of the day: Free lunch! From St. Louis, we travel 12 miles across the Mississippi to Columbia, Ill. Paul Ellis, the town's director of community and economic development and the founder of the Mississippi River Facebook page, found my blog and invited us for lunch. He treats us to tasty thin-crust pizza from the local restaurant Boccardi's, and directs us to the back roads that travel along the Mississippi to Sikeston, Mo., where we plan to stay that night. If you want to drive along the river, you usually have to leave the interstate.
Sound bite of the day: Louis "Hutch" Schlafly, president of the Columbia Chamber of Commerce, joins us for lunch and he tells us about the 1993 flood, when the levee broke and a wave of water wiped out the nearby town of Valmeyer. The media got footage of the flood pulling one of the homes up from the ground and Schlafly says news stations all around the world played it repeatedly. (When you talk to people who live near the Mississippi River, they usually want to tell you about the floods they have endured--just as Californians love to talk about earthquakes.)
Most interesting person encountered: We meet Bob Edler (pictured above) when we're driving through Illinois farm country on our way to Sikeston, Mo. We notice some donkeys in front of his farm and stop to snap pictures. Bob, who is well over six feet and wears a scruffy beard, starts walking over to us. He looks tough and I worry that he might kick us off his property, but instead he says in the kindest, gentlest voice, "You can go in the pen. They're friendly." His eyes light up, and he starts to tell us about his daughter, Emily, and how she raises these donkeys, which are the best in the region. "I wish you could meet her," he says.
And then Emily and her friend Adam drive up in a big pick-up truck and they have seven huge freshly caught catfish flopping around in the bed. They invite us to stay to watch them weigh, skin and clean their catch. My children stand in awe as they hang the fish on hooks and remove the skin and innards, the blood dripping down.
Emily's mom, Judy, arrives. She shows us the inside of their grain bin and gives us a lesson in wheat farming. They have nearly 1,000 acres of wheat, soy bean, and corn fields. She tells us about the cattle they keep up on the ridge. "Our cows eat only grass and fresh water," she says. "They taste like nothing you have ever eaten." Bob brings out two snapping turtles, which they caught in the Mississippi and plan to eat as well. "They're really chewy," Emily tells us.
My son plays on the tire swing; my daughter picks some flowers from a bed of marigolds. They don't want to leave the farm, but we must continue down the river. Before we go, Bob brings out a set of deer antlers from an animal he found dead in his field. "They're a gift from us," he says.
Quote of the day: "When I grow up, I want to be a farmer," my 4-year-old son says as we're driving away from the farm. "Mommy, I'll even let you drive my tractor."
Low point of the day: Everything in the adorable town of St. Genevieve, Mo., is closed when we arrive. From Illinois, we crossed the river on a ferry to Missouri and we don't arrive in the former French colonial town until 5:30 p.m. Antique shops with window displays fit for shelter magazines line the main drag and I can tell from the few price tags I spot that things are 50 percent less than what they'd be in California. I want to go inside! We find one place that's open: Sara's Ice Cream. After we order a cherry cone, we realize the cafe specializes in handmade drum sticks: vanilla ice cream dipped in chocolate and covered in St. Genevieve pecans. We can't afford to spend an extra $3.50 and I'm beginning to really hate our $150-a-day budget!
Call me old-fashioned but I much prefer to hear my kids scream "Are we there yet?" from the backseat of the car rather than "When can we watch a DVD?"
Turn on the DVD player in the backseat and your kids will never look out window.
My family is in the midst of a road trip, and I didn't bring a DVD player for my kids to watch while we travel the length of the Mississippi River and log more than 2,500 miles. I had this corny vision that instead of being glued to a Disney film my 4-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter would tell stories, play games, and sing songs. And well, it's actually happening. While I sit here in the front seat typing up this story my precious saplings are singing "You Are My Sunshine," over and over and over again. (Yes, while I tell my kids they can't watch Dora the Explorer in the backseat, I'm often up front working on my computer typing up blog posts. You don't need to tell me that I'm a hypocrite. My daughter has already made this clear.)
The first two days of the road trip were rough as my children adapted to life strapped into a car seat. They told me they were bored. They told me there was nothing to see out the window. They told me they hated road trips and wanted to go home. By the end of the second day, they started entertaining themselves. They began to ask "Are we there yet?" every two hours rather than every hour--and now that we're two weeks into the trip, I never hear those infamous words.
My daughter spends most of her time with a pad of paper in her lap and a marker in her hand. Yesterday she drew portraits of her family and a picture of a rock star (pictured above) singing into a microphone on stage. (There has been a lot of talk about Michael Jackson in the front seat.)
My son fills his time by talking to himself. He says goofy phrases repeatedly, usually with a plastic Batman figurine in each of his hands. "Garbage can head. No, you're a garbage can head. No, you're a garbage can head. Garbage can head! Garbage can head!"
Some planning went into my decision to ditch the DVD. I borrowed Books on Tape, such as Laura Ingalls Little House in the Big Woods and Mark Twain's Huck Finn, from the library and downloaded them onto the iPhone. I printed out coloring pages from the Family Fun Web site and road trip games, such as Backseat Bingo and I Spy with my Little Eye, from LilSugar.com.
The Crayola window crayons have been a big hit; they easily clean up with a baby wipe. And the Wikki Stix, bendable sticks of wax that you form into sculptures, have filled countless hours. But most of the time, my kids simply gaze out the window.
That's not to say that we're like the Leave It to Beaver family smoothly cruising down the highway. We have had our moments. Maybe you read the past blog post where I mention my kids spitting in the backseat. The lowest point was probably on my husband's birthday when the kids fought, whined and cried throughout a three-hour drive--and my husband finally stopped the car and said we're not moving on until you quiet down. And there was the day when my son said, "Hey babe!" over 1,000 times.
This is when I'm tempted to throw my laptop back at the kids and turn on an episode of Word Girl, but I know that once I do this, they will be asking "When can we watch a DVD?" the rest of the trip. We tried videos once on a drive from Seattle to San Francisco and for two days I was constantly negotiating with them about when the DVD player could be turned on. And then there were all the fights between the kids over what to watch.
Plus if my kids were watching a DVD player in the backseat, they never would have seen the herd of elk on the side of the road, nor the turkey buzzards feeding on a dead deer. They never would have noticed the family of gnomes parked in front of a country home, nor the blue waterfall at the miniature golf course.
They never would have seen the hundreds of lakes we drove by in Minnesota, the red barns in Wisconsin, the corn fields in Iowa, the swamps in Mississippi. They never would have seen the crop dusters, the rolled hay bales, the grazing cows, the trains carrying coal, the barges trucking down the river, the combines harvesting wheat, the firecracker stands, the manicured cemeteries, the homes with lawns bigger than football fields, the red-brick churches with white steeples. My daughter never would have been the first to spot the St. Louis Arch, and my son never would have realized the cluster of clouds looked like a dragon.
They never would have seen all of those Mississippi sunsets, the river water turning bright oranges, reds, and pinks. They never would have dozed off, watching the Mississippi flow down the center of our country. If they were watching a DVD, they would return to California at the end of the trip not realizing that they had traveled through an exotic land.
Do you let your kids watch DVDs in the backseat on road trips? Why or why not?
The Station in Clarksville, Mo., 120 miles north of St. Louis, offers outdoor dining on patio furniture that looks as if it were purchased from Smith & Hawken. In fact, this high-end road stop--with an organic vegetable garden, pots filled with herbs, a mini farmers' market, and babbling fountains--looks like the setting for a garden catalog photo shoot--or a Martha Stewart television segment.
We enjoy salads--fresh greens tossed with walnuts, cranberries, and local chicken. We sip iced tea. We walk through the surrounding garden and check out the stage that's being built for outdoor concerts. And then it's time for pie.
The coconut cream slice rises high above the plate, and it cracks in half when my daughter and son both grab for it at the same time. The filling is perfect--silky and smooth, except for the tender strands of coconut--and it's topped with a generous helping of rich whipped cream. I especially like that the pie isn't too sweet. The crust on the other hand is a soggy mess, and chunks of it never get eaten. Rating: 3.
Low point of the day: After driving an hour and a half outside of Hannibal toward St. Louis, I realize that I forgot my reporting notepad back at the hotel. We retrace our steps and drive an extra 150 miles. Ugh!
High point of the day: We break for lunch in Clarksville, 50 miles south of Hannibal. The town appears tiny so we're surprised by all that we find: a group of people taking a class on how to make chairs from willow branches, the highest point along the Mississippi that's accessible by an old-school ski lift, several high-end art galleries, and a fabulous restaurant with its own vegetable and herb garden. All of this in a town with a population of 490.
Sound bite of the day: When we first arrive in Clarksville, we drive up to the waterfront where some folks are loading sandbags into the trunk of the car. No, there wasn't a flood (at least not when we were there). The bags were "decor" at the thank-you dinner the town threw the night before for the volunteers who helped with last summer's flood. Apparently, this area was one of the hardest hit in the 2008 Mississippi flood. The National Guard showed up. Reporters from Tokyo and Germany. People magazine. And hundreds of volunteers who saved the town by filling sandbags.
Later, we talk to Dale Appel, who lives eight miles inland from Clarksville. Last summer, he brought his family to the riverfront to help fill sand bags and he told us about the experience.
Most interesting person encountered: When we meet John Whitt (pictured above) in Clarksville, he's teaching a chair-making class. In the driveway of his daughter's 1800s home, he's showing a group how to bend willow branches into a form that looks like a piece of artwork yet serves as a comfortable chair. We later visit the Bent Tree gallery, which Whitt runs with his wife, Marcia, who hand-weaves baskets, and his daughter, Stacy, who makes leather purses.
Photo of the day: Cat fish skeletons decorate a fence somewhere in between Hannibal and Clarksville.
Miles: 280
Total miles: 1559
Hours in car: 5
Total hours in car: 32
Weather: 85 degrees. It's a lovely day.
Expenses
Hotel: $89.99 (Best Western on the River; newly remodeled hotel that's right in town and only one block from Mark Twain's boyhood home)
Breakfast: free at hotel
Lunch: $30.49 (Clarksville Station; more on this restaurant in an upcoming post)
Gas: $17.63 (only $2.49 in Louisiana, Mo.; the cheapest yet)
Dinner: $24 (Hodak's in St. Louis; perfectly crispy fried chicken)
Low point: The 80-year-old Figge Art Museum in Davenport, Iowa, moved into a dazzling new home on the banks of the Mississippi in 2006. We peer inside the metal-and-fritted-glass building but with our tight budget we can't afford to go in. Instead we walk across to the river, where we cool off with fresh lemonade at the farmers' market.
High point of the day: In the car we are listening to the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Book on Tape, and when we visit Hannibal, Mo., a small port town 120 miles north of St. Louis, we step inside the home where the great American author grew up. At the Mark Twain Boyhood Home & Museum, we learn that Twain moved here when he was 4-years-old. His childhood and the town and the river it sits on served as inspiration for both Huck Finn and the Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I explain to my 6-year-old daughter, who loves listening to the story, that Tom Sawyer is based on Mark Twain who was really Samuel Clemens and the character of Huck is based on Twain's boyhood friend Tom Blankenship who was one of eight children in a desperately poor family headed by the town drunk. She finds this all confusing and gets frustrated. I decide to let her discover the museum on her own and she enjoys climbing around a re-creation of Huck's raft and his house and watching a Tom Sawyer movie.
Quote of the day: "He was lucky to have such a big house," says my daughter as she's touring through Twain's two-story boyhood home. Only a San Francisco girl who lives in a condo would say this. Twain's boyhood home is quite humble and small.
Sound bite of the day: James Miller was born and raised in Hannibal and at 75 years old he still lives here. I meet him at the Mark Twain Museum, where he dropped in to say hello to his daughter who works at the admission desk.
Photo of the day: Tower of onion rings at the Mark Twain Dinette across from museum in Hannibal, Mo.
Miles: 200
Total miles: 1279
Hours in car: 4
Total hours in car: 27
Weather: Warm and muggy in the afternoon; stormy in the evening.
Expenses
Hotel: $89.99 (Best Western Steeplegate Inn/friendly service, heated indoor pool, and scrumptious hot breakfast)
Breakfast: free at hotel
Lunch: $6.14 (Great Grains Natural Foods; one sandwich, two bananas, one yogurt, and a handful of dried apricots)
When we arrived at the Best Western Midway Hotel in Dubuque, Iowa, my kids could hardly contain themselves when they saw the swimming pool. It was housed in a light, airy atrium filled with lush, green foliage. To my kids it looked like a tropical paradise.
"Mommy, the pool looks like it's inside but it's outside," my daughter squealed. "Can we please go in? Please? Please!" She was literally shaking with excitement.
My kids had no interest in going into town, checking out the riverfront. Dinner? Who cares about eating when there's a swimming pool. And I have found this is true all along our Mississippi road trip--the swimming pools are the highlight for my children. At the Best Western Steeplegate Inn in Davenport, Iowa, they loved that the indoor pool was as warm as a bath tub. At the Best Western Bluffview Inn & Suites in Prairie Du Chien, Wisc., my kids were thrilled by the pool toys. At the Best Western Normandy Inn in Minneapolis, they liked the hot tub that was shaped like a spoon.
As a parent paying for a vacation, I love the swimming pools because they offer free entertainment. For every hour we're spending at the pool, we're not about town spending money. And since we're doing this trip on a budget of $150 a day every little bit counts.
How do you cool off on a hot day in Moline, Ill.? You could jump into the Mississippi River, or even better you could enjoy a soft serve cone from Country Style. This delicious treat is made with real milk and cream, and it's richer and thicker than your typical soft serve.
We order a cone of vanilla to share--this is what a family of four on a budget of $150 a day can afford--and of course we're all fighting over it. Right when my daughter is trying to grab the cone from her brother's hands, the owner, Kent Kindelsperger, steps out to say hello. "I have kids. They do the same thing," he says.
Kindelsperger gives us a tour of the inside of the tiny little shop that sits on 16th Street in this town across the river from Davenport, Iowa. He tells us his great uncle opened the shop in 1947 and then Kindelsperger took over 23 years ago. (Now there are seven shops.)
He shows us the soft serve machine handmade by his great uncle and fills a tall cup with ice cream. He turns it upside down and holds the cup over my kids' heads. Country Style ice cream is so thick that it doesn't fall out of the cup.
Are there other flavors besides vanilla? Yes, chocolate, and Kindelsperger gives us a sample. It's the color of a dark chocolate bar--and tastes like one too.
"We originally had a lighter chocolate that tasted more like a fudgiscle," he says. "But then we decided to introduce a new chocolate and just kept adding more and more cocoa. When we taste-tested it, 99 out of 100 preferred it over the original."
I never got to try the original but I can tell you that the chocolate is the best soft serve I have ever had.
Listen to a sound bite from Country Style owner Kent Kindelsperger:
The Rundown High point of the day: The Smithsonian Institute runs the National Mississippi River Museum & Aquarium in Dubuque, Iowa, and it's world-class. All of the bits and pieces we have learned about the river along our river road trip are pulled together under one roof with exhibits on river otters, snapping turtles, barges, flooding, locks and dams. My husband enjoys watching a film on the history of the river narrated by Garrison Keillor, my kids like turning a paddle boat wheel, and I'm delighted to flirt with Mark Twain (pictured above).
Sound bite of the day: Helen Bolf, a volunteer at the River Museum, welcomes visitors when they walk through the door and helps direct them to exhibits.
Low point of the day: We spend too much time at the River Museum, so we're pressed for time when we arrive in Galena, across the river in Illinois. Some 1,000 buildings in town are on the National Register of Historic Places in this former lead-mining town that had a population of 15,000 while Chicago had only 1,200 in the later 180ss. We want to get out and walk around, but we only have time for a game of tag on the front lawn of a home (pictured above) where Ulysses S. Grant lived for two years.
Photo of the day: What does a family of four on a tight budget do in Davenport, Iowa, on a Friday night? Cheer on the Quad Cities River Bandits minor league baseball team at Modern Woodmen Park that sits right on the river. We pay $5 for tickets, fill up on pulled pork sandwiches for only $4, and take in the views.
Quote of the day: "How do you win at ping pong?" my 4-year-old son asks as we're watching the baseball game. It seems he confused his sports.
Miles: 110
Total miles: 1079
Hours in car: 2 hours, 30 minutes
Total hours in the car: 23 hours
Weather: Gorgeous, 80 degrees, not too hot. (I'm beginning to wonder why people who live in the Midwest complain so much about the weather.)
Expenses
Hotel: $100.79 (Best Western Midway Hotel/friendly service, spacious rooms with comfy beds, tropical indoor pool)
Breakfast: free with hotel (scrumptious hot breakfast with bacon, eggs, yogurts, juices, bagels)
Museum admission: free (our hotel stay comes with four free tickets to the Mississippi River Museum)
Pressed penny: 51 cents (souvenir at the museum)
Lunch: snacks (crackers and granola bars packed from home; apples taken from hotel breakfast)
Ice cream cone: $1.99 (Country Style in Moline, Ill.)
I'm a girl on the go. I travel for fun. For work. With my kids. With my husband. With my girlfriends. For me, traveling is not about luxury. It's about getting out there and experiencing new things. Best Western signed me up because, like me, they want to get people talking about travel. So let's talk! Tell me your travel tales, teach me your tips, and, when the airline loses your luggage, feel free to throw a temper tantrum. Believe me, I understand.
Got a travel question? Looking for an affordable hotel in New York City? Planning a family trip to the Caribbean and want to know which island is best for kids?
Send your questions to onthegowithamy@gmail.com for advice. Questions may be edited for clarity and space.
If you look at a satellite map and zone in on southern Louisiana, you'll see that the Mississippi River branches out into several water channels. Before dumping into the Gulf of Mexico, the channels run through skinny fingers of land, and on the last day of our road trip we take Highway 23 down one of these peninsulas to Venice. A two-hour drive from New Orleans, the town is the most southern community on the Mississippi accessible by automobile and many refer to it as the end of the world. 
While the devastation is apparent, signs of rebirth are even more discernible. The community has worked hard to rebuild and new construction is everywhere. We drive by countless new homes, most of them lifted high up off the ground on stilts.
The road suddenly ends. A sign reads: "You have reached the southern most point in Louisiana." We stop to take photos of the sign. A crab scurries across the road.
We drove over 2,5000 miles to reach the mouth of the river--and taking a few photos of the sign doesn't satisfy us. I want a more poignant conclusion to our trip. We decide that we'd like to rent a motor boat and travel further down the river and so we follow signs to Bud's Boat Rentals. On the way we meet a friendly pelican who probably would have let me touch him if I tried.
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