Sitting in my car as I drove through Ocean Springs, I suspected that, despite the fact that my windows were rolled up, people in the next car could hear my enormous sigh of relief.
My start date as Country Roads’ managing editor had been a year earlier—as it happens, on the day Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. (I was a bit late to work.) I’d headed back to the Mississippi Gulf Coast to write a story that I intended to devote to all the things that make a visit there worthwhile, and I expected that much of what I’d write would be couched with qualifiers—“That isn’t there, but this still is” kind of language. But as I drove into downtown Ocean Springs, it looked just the way it did the last time I was there.
During my eight-year tenure at Country Roads, my favorite part of the job was ditching my desktop and exploring the region’s back roads in search of the same sense of delight I get every time I visit Ocean Springs. The delights those roads led me to include an annual parade of hundreds of children reigned over by sock monkeys, which were first introduced to a Plaquemine classroom in 1946 by a beloved teacher. They led me to charming Columbia, Mississippi, and lunch at the Southern Fried Rabbit. And then, on the drive out of Columbia, toward the wonderfully named community of Hot Coffee, I spotted a highway sign warning me to be alert for horse-drawn-buggy traffic, a fact I later learned could be attributed to the tiny community of German Baptists, very much like the Amish, who live along that particular stretch of road.
There would be so much more to learn in the years to come, because there were so many extraordinary things to discover down the rural roads it was my job to explore. Even that which might seem mundane at first glance would, with a little deeper exploration, turn out to be not at all so. I almost walked by a display at the Cajun Music Hall of Fame in downtown Eunice that appeared to contain just a rusty old auto part. The Model A Ford generator in the glass case was not much to look at, but dig in to its provenance and you learn that a resourceful music fan—in a place where music is at the heart of the culture—adapted it to provide power for outdoor concerts back before the Rural Electric Administration managed to get electricity into that part of the state.
There is perhaps no more beautiful off-the-beaten-path road than the Natchez Trace, which I had the chance to drive from beginning to end. But my favorite stop along the way was the town that General Grant thought too beautiful to burn—Port Gibson—with its one-of-a-kind Presbyterian church topped not by the usual cross but by a giant golden hand pointed to the heavens. Nothing mundane about that.
Each such discovery reinforced my long-held belief that there are wonders to behold everywhere when you look at your surroundings through an inquisitive lens. So why on earth would I leave a job that encouraged me, on a daily basis, to do something I loved so much? For the chance to do the same thing across North America.
Two years ago we sold our house, bought an RV, and hit the road to see America. We’ve now been to every state in the nation save North Dakota. (Our apologies to The Peace Garden State, but you’re still on the bucket list.) When folks ask which stop, out of the hundreds we’ve made on our journey, was my favorite, I can’t choose. But just as before, I’ve found that many of my favorite places are down country roads.
In a stop along the shores of Lake Michigan, my go-to writing spot was Root, a coffee shop that had just opened in the tiny town of Fennville, Michigan, population two thousand. Each morning, I’d sip locally roasted coffee from one of the mugs that the owner (a potter) had spent the winter throwing on her potting wheel.
We also stumbled upon Mesilla, New Mexico, once the capital of Confederate Arizona, and now where artists have set up in the historic adobe buildings. And of course there’s Marfa, the insanely artsy community in west Texas, not even big enough to have a pharmacy but home to more than a dozen art galleries … and its own public radio station. Ava, a small county seat one hour from Branson, Missouri, has a drugstore that still sells nickel Cokes and ice cream cones—just because the pharmacist/owner loves his community. Down the road from there, on Friday nights, you can attend a music jam/potluck where locals gather on a neighbor’s farm, and everyone is welcome. North of Portland, Maine, is the farm where the last three Shakers on earth live and where you can buy fine furniture from local craftspeople inspired by Shaker design.
And so, one such discovery after another, I’ve lived a life more fun than I could have imagined, viewing America through the lens I first discovered at Country Roads.
Off the Beaten Path Across America
These days, as I wander the continent, I’m delighted that I get to maintain my connection to Country Roads as the magazine’s Roving Correspondent. As part of that role, I write a weekly post for a blog entitled Further Afield, in which I offer advice on exploring the world on a budget, drawing from the firsthand experiences I’ve had along the way. Here’s an example:
Thanks to budget airlines like Allegiant and Spirit, which fly from New Orleans, there are often insanely cheap fares to Florida from our part of the world. Aside from the more famous attractions there, less crowded delights await just a few miles away from the city. A bit over an hour’s drive from Disney World is the Weeki Wachee Springs State Park. In 2008, the state took over operation of the venerable Florida attraction, which staged its first underwater mermaid show in 1947. On my first visit, I was expecting the equivalent of a dog-eared vintage postcard: a sweet but faded glimpse into a colorful past.
What I found instead was a beautifully maintained state park, where we first boarded a pontoon boat for a float down the crystal clear Weeki Wachee River (fed by the 112 million gallons the springs pump out every day). Our half-hour journey took us past a manatee mama and her calf, a gigantic eagle’s nest, a deer wading near the shore, an alligator, and several kayakers.
But we were really there for the mermaid show. And what a show it was. The underwater ballerinas that perform, slender air hoses in hand, train for up to a year; they can hold their breath for two and a half minutes. (Try it.) For half an hour they dived, twirled, and blew bubbles—to the delight of young and old alike. But the fun was not quite over. For $2, we watched our mermaid souvenir injection-molded before our very eyes, delivering the result into our hands still warm. A delightful afternoon indeed, all for $13.
