Thursday 17th October 2019

We wake up with the train still rattling and rolling along, at 80mph the driver assures us. Judging by the state if the track, this isn’t wise. We lay in bed until at ten to six, the announcement comes that we will soon be arriving in Memphis.

Memphis was enjoying the pre-dawn coolness, we were allowed out onto the platform as we were 40 minutes ahead of schedule. I stood and talked to a guy who tried to convince me to try pot to ease my creaking joints. I wasn’t convinced.

And in the tree beside our car, some new bird sang its heart out, either at the delight of the dawn of a fine new day, or the train disturbing its sleep.

Inside, breakfast was served. Or warmed in the microwave.

As we rolled into Memphis, I could make out the reflections in the Mississippi, though too dark to see more. And by the time we pulled out at then to seven, we had already left the river. I suspect we will be seeing lots of it later.

Smokers stood around, puffing away, all red-eyed, while I went round taking shots, because, photography.

We had been hoping it would get warmer as we went south, but in the pre-dawn glow, it was still chilly.

As daylight walked the land at the sun rose, fields of cotton stretched from the tracks to the horizon, some still white and fluffy, some harvested. The harvested cotton is stored in huge bales like hay or silage, ready to be taken away to be turned into something very cheap, or very expensive to wear.

Inbetween there are woods, lakes, and sometimes combinations of the two, all filled with mangroves and other swamp-loving plants, though no sign of Burt Reynolds, squealing or not.

We stop at Greenwood, Mississippi, where we could get out for a smoke, or to stretch our legs. It looked dirt poor; all shacks and rusty cars, rusting further where abandoned. The driver sounds the horn and we get on again. We’re already in the 14th our of the journey, and six more to go.

Time passes…..

It is now nearly one in the afternoon, and we have just had our microwaved lunches. Pasta something. With cream and carrots. Its OK. We have passed through several towns in Mississippi, stopping at each one, a few get on or off. Last one was McComb, I only remember that because of the name of the lead singer of the Triffids.

Inbetween the scattered towns is the usual mix of woods, swaps and fields. And scrap yards. Or just areas where the density of abandoned cars and truck is higher than the average yard.

The other good news is that I am feeling better. I was actually hungry, and ate all of lunch, along with a Stella.

All good here.

The final run into New Orleans was across and through marsh/bog/swap that meant the land was barely an inch above the water. Egrets were in any area of open water, no matter how small, trees passed by that had moss growing off them several feet in length, like Big Fish made real.

Announcements were made that we were approaching the city, we gathered up our stuff, as the swamp gave way to urban sprawl; the airport, factories and depots.

And there was the less than impressive skyline of the Big Easy, not as big as New York or Chicago, but you don't come here for thos, you come for the Frech Quarter and wrought iron balconies.

And food.

The train had to reverse into the station, so as we inched back we saw things like the Skydome, infamous from Katrina 14 years ago, now rebranded by Mercedes.

We arrive, so we clamber down the narrow stairwell, grab our cases and walk to the front of the station where we get the angriest taxi driver in the city, whose hand was always on the horn and used the accelerator as an on/off switch.

I give him a good tip, more due to thanks having had survived, but he told us a few places to eat in the city, so that was helpful.

We wait in line to check in, but are soon given the key to our air conditioned palace.

And after a shower we were ready to go out exploring. Well, to find something to eat.

Thing is, twenty hours on a train, with little and broken sleep, mix with a big meal and a couple of huge cocktails would mean we were soon flagging. But first we had to find a place to eat. THe driver recommended Deano's, so it was that we went in search of, hoping that it was before six, we would get a table.

Deano's is a huge place, seating quite like a cafeteria, but the service was excellent, and the food better. We had been told to have Gumbo there, and that's what we ordered, along with a starter each, fried onion rings and mushrooms stuffed with crab. All were starters, but big enough for a meal, and wonderful.

The Voodoo Juice cocktail I had contained enough booze to fuel an army of zombies, so once back outside, our heads spinning, and crowds of people grasping plastic cocktail bottles, strings of beads, all shouting and singing, I have to admit we beat a retreat back to our room, and after half an hour listening to the radio, we went to bed.

It was eight in the evening.

In Noleans.