After having such a good shoot, and just so much fun in general with the Michigan lighthouses, I feel like I’ve spent the last week or so coming down from some sort of photography high. Not that I’m not still glad I’m roadtripping, but I’ve managed to step on an ant hill, get sick, nearly sweat to death in the Southern humidity, and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is downright depressing.

When I left Dayton I headed for the Great Smoky Mountains, where I was reminded of my need to check a map before running in strange places. I Thought I was running a four or five mile loop that would take me back to my car, but that didn’t quite turn out to be the case. If I’d been smart, I would have turned around after I discovered that the first mile and a half of the run were pretty much straight uphill, but I (stupidly) persisted, alternately running/walking since I figured there was bound to be some downhill eventually. And downhill there was…a good three and a half miles of it. That should have been my next clue that all was not quite well…I hadn’t gone far enough up to be coming that far down. My “loop” eventually dropped me into town, a good four miles from where my truck was…and you guessed it, nearly all of that was….straight uphill. At least Chris got some amusement from my predicament (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I love cell phones that can email). I did eventually make it back to my vehicle, though I hobbled around for days afterwards, my leg muscles absolutely shot from the slightly tougher workout than I had planned.

I woke the next morning to rain and split pea soup fog, not exactly the best weather for photography. I drove through the mountains, unable to see much of anything at all, and eventually decided to head down to Atlanta early, thus buying myself some more time in Natchez, MS. I went through Atlanta for the sole purpose of visiting the historic Oakland Cemetery, by far one of my all-time favorite cemeteries. My mom and I discovered it a couple years ago when we met up in Atlanta for R.E.M.’s final, hometown show on their “In Time” tour (which was absolutely worth flying down for, best show I have ever been to!). Unfortunately, on my way down, I stopped near Clarksville to take pictures of the Pardue Mill (which turned out to be a waste of time), where I inadvertently stepped on a small ant hill. I hate ants. I’m not a big bug fan in general, though I’m not inclined to scream at the sight of a spider or anything like that, but I particularly dislike ants en masse. Especially when they are crawling on my feet and legs. Even after I was quite sure that I had brushed every last one off of me, and checked the insides of my pant legs, socks, shoes, etc., I still swore they were crawling on me. In addition, I’d been bitten four times, which later swelled, and have itched so badly that I have clawed at them to the point of infecting them. To make matters worse, I was bitten by several mosquitoes while I wandered around the Oakland Cemetery, and I have constantly itched since.

I had been looking forwarding to shooting the old Bryce Hospital in Tuscaloosa, but I never did quite manage to find it. I ventured through the forest along the road that was marked “Private! Security Patrolled,” and according to my map I was very much in the right place, but there were locked gates in several places leading down dirt sideroads, and since I was already trespassing, I wasn’t really in a good place to park and go exploring. Too bad. I wound up heading for Vicksburg, where I got caught in a major downpour and wound up sitting in my car reading for awhile, and then started working my way down to Natchez, stopping at the Windsor Ruins along the way. The twenty-three columns are the remains of a plantation house, which ironically survived the Civil War intact, only to accidentally burn down 1890. I ran into some folks who had visited the ruins years ago, when the columns used to be in the middle of an open field, but the forest has started growing up around them. Regardless, they are quite the sight.

I spent the following day shooting the Natchez City Cemetery in hot, humid gloom. I have very much been reminded of why I will never live in the South, no matter how many nice people I meet or old cemeteries there are for me to wander through. And in late September, this isn’t even the hot season! I kept hoping it would just finally actually rain, just so I might cool off a bit, but it never did. On the upside, at least cemeteries photograph well in the gloom. And even better, a cold front moved in later than night and I woke up yesterday to beautiful, cool weather where I didn’t feel like I might drown just from breathing. I’d felt well enough when I woke up, but by the time I’d headed back to the Natchez cemetery to take a couple more pictures, I was lightheaded and dizzy, sweating and clammy, and obviously coming down with something. I decided to drive down to New Orleans like I’d planned, figuring I’d just spend the day parked at a rest area if things got worse. As if feeling lousy wasn’t enough, being sick also meant I wasn’t going to get to see my friend Cowboy John while I was in town. I’m not sure that he’s rode in a rodeo since the one I saw him in when we were in high school, but he’s been “Cowboy” to me ever since. Plus, I was finally going to get to meet his new wife. And even worse, I’ve got boat reservations on Thursday, so this is a chunk of the trip where I have next to no flexibility with my schedule.

By the time I hit New Orleans I wasn’t feeling great, but I hadn’t gotten any worse so I decided to take pictures afterall, and just avoided people in general in case I was contagious. This didn’t turn out to be very difficult when I eventually stumbled across the Ninth Ward. Here it was an absolutely beautiful day and there should have been people out mowing their lawns and kids playing in the streets, and I was essentially the only person in sight for blocks and blocks (I encountered three people, three.) A year later and the devastation from Hurricane Katrina is still mind boggling, frustrating, maddening….depressing. Wrecked cars, a house on a car in one place, doors hanging askew, windows gone, walls gone in some cases, spray paint on the front of each house from the searches. A Taco Bell that was never quite intended to be as well ventilated as it currently is. The remains of a school, social studies books mixed in with the debris. This morning I drove through Biloxi and Gulfport, where I stopped at Fire Station 7. It’s missing two walls, and the guys there told me they anticipate having to work out of the trailer they’ve been given for the next several years. The rebuilding process is slow. It’s still being decided whether or not the Ninth Ward will be rebuilt, but it’s clear from the signs in the windows that the residents themselves would like to return. “I am coming home! I will rebuild! I am New Orleans!”

Home for me is still a few weeks off, and I need to be hitting the road again. I’ve got a lot of driving to do to be in Key West in time for my ferry reservation out to the Dry Tortugas on Thursday. Though I just went and sidetracked myself yet again….I really do meet the nicest people everywhere I go.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 26th, 2006 at 7:23 pm.