I did not listen to my gut feeling to turn right around when heading north into Mississippi. I kept on going into Oxford, where I stayed for a week with some awesome folks who own Two Sticks Sushi in town. I ate lots of yummy sushi and saw a live show. Still, though, I longed to have my hands in some Texas dirt.
While in Oxford, I received some bad news from Ruben at Echowood– one of the main people, Will, was leaving with a woman he had met on the farm, and wouldn’t be returning for nine months or more. This prompted a decision by a couple of the property owners to sell Echowood. Even with imminent dissolution, I still knew I had to go back after visiting Ida.
Following my Oxford stint, I kept on truckin’, this time up the Natchez-Trace Trail. The Natchez-Trace is the most beautiful road I have ever encountered, considering its length. The Two Sticks folks had recommended it to me. Research must be done to find an entrance to this isolated road, as well as proper planning of food stocks and gas stops. The Natchez-Trace is 444 miles long, stretching diagonally across Mississippi, crossing through a corner of Alabama, and ending up just outside of Nashville. There are almost no buildings whatsoever along the Natchez-Trace– no gas stations, no convenience stores, no Wal-Marts. Occasionally, a farm building can be seen in the distance, but it is mostly flanked by trees, fields, parks, historical and ecological places of interest, and campgrounds. I jammed from Tupelo, MS to Nashville to Ida in one day.
I arrived at Ida in the evening, and parked my van at the front of the 200-acre property. There were several other visitors at the time, in addition to eight of the nine folks who reside there on a more permanent basis. Tennessee was cold, and the hollow that Ida sits in is deep, and even colder. I planned to stay for two weeks, but ended up departing after just one. It was cold and rainy most of my time there, and I came down with a wicked cold. I ended up spending a lot of time in my van, especially the last few days I was there. I slept a lot at that point– I had not been that sick for quite some time.
I generally had some bad feelings about that place. The mojo just wasn’t flowing well. I felt quite unwelcome, and was bored. Perhaps I didn’t try hard enough; perhaps my ability to enter in to a new community of people had been sapped after four months of being in a new place every week or so. I was even trained to inject myself well into new groups of people– I knew I could have done it. But, for some reason, it didn’t seem worth it. I did not feel motivated to put work and energy into Ida. There was some kind of strangeness going on. It was not the bright, happy, playful energy that I had been led to believe was present there. Again, though, grain of salt– it was cold and rainy. Credit is due there.
All I knew was that I had to leave. I am of the belief that your body is an indicator of the environment around you, and I was very sick.
I left early in the morning on my return to Echowood. Ruben was not expecting me for another few weeks, since I had planned to go to Ashville, NC as well. It would be a great surprise. I did manage to tell some others at Echowood, however, so it wouldn’t be an unwelcome surprise.
Again, I drove along the Natchez-Trace, after having quite a hard time finding an entrance to the trail in Tennessee (“Get me out of here!”). Good thing to have an atlas when the GPS doesn’t have a signal (thanks, Grammy). Finally, I made it on the trail, and knew I was home-free. I had to stop at one point in a sunny meadow speckled with wildflowers. It was so good for my soul to be in some flat, sunny space. I soaked in the rays with Simon the Cat hanging out next to me on a leash.
At about 5 p.m., I arrived at Rocky Springs, one of the three free parkway campgrounds. At first, I was told the campground was full, but the friendly volunteer groundskeepers made space for me when I told them I was traveling alone and needed a place to crash for the night. How refreshing it was that the groundskeeper, Dave, was so friendly. I almost forgot what normal, friendly conversation was like after the past week. I went to sleep with the sun, and awoke with it as well, leaving the quiet, sleeping campground for the calm of the early morning Trail.
It was a sight to see– the Natchez-Trace with the sun coming up over it, trees and fog and dew. I felt happy, as I made my way on the last leg of the return to Echowood.
