Ol' Man River

 

The hit song from Oscar Hammerstein II and Jerome Kern's 1927 groundbreaking musical, "Show Boat," continues to mesmerize, nearly 100 years later. Haunting and magical, the lyrics and melody seem to cast a spell:

Ah gits weary/An' sick of tryin' Ah'm tired of livin'/An' skeered of dyin', But ol' man river, He jes' keeps rolling' along.

Timeless, really, like the river itself.

None of which was going through our minds last year when we decided to sail the Mississippi. We'd done the Snake and Columbia rivers out west, the Ohio two years ago, and the Great Lakes in between. So why not the Mississippi, the most storied of American rivers?

Our favorite cruise line, which happens to be featured on this edition's cover, offered a number of different itineraries: the entire river, from St. Paul to New Orleans; the Upper Mississippi, from St. Louis to St. Paul; the Lower Mississippi, from Memphis to New Orleans; and various combinations thereof, including the stretch from St. Louis to Memphis.

We chose the Lower Mississippi, partly because of the timing (late August) and partly because of its rich history. It turned out to be one of American Cruise Lines' most popular itineraries, and for good reason.

RIVER TRIVIA

Our vessel was the American Symphony, one of the newer ships (built in 2022) in ACL's fleet and part of the so-called River Class of American Riverboats™. Not the traditional paddle-wheelers we had sailed before, she holds just 180 passengers and boasts spacious staterooms and bathrooms (much bigger than on ocean cruise ships) and lots of public spaces.

She also has a unique bow design that opens up to allow passengers to disembark on a retractable gangway. At many destinations the vessel literally grounds itself against the shore; the bow opens up like a beached dolphin, and passengers climb (or take a golf cart) up a steep embankment, called a revetment, to reach the waiting coaches or take a stroll through town.

The revetments are to protect against floods, of which there have been many over the years. Built by the Army Corps of Engineers and made of concrete and a combination of rocks and sand called "rip-rap," the revetments also provide an anchorage for commercial barge and towboat traffic, which attach lines to the embedded cables or hooks and can "park" for the night or days at a time, safe from the constant flow of barge tows on the river.

The Mississippi is all about commerce. Hopper barges hauling wheat and corn and soybeans downriver to New Orleans for export. Tank barges carrying oil and petrochemicals to the refineries in Baton Rouge or upriver to St. Louis. Building materials and construction products and ethanol and all kinds of things for consumption at home or export abroad. It's the I-95 of river traffic, and it's always busy. The Corps of Engineers designed it that way.

You won't see many pleasure craft or jet skiers on its waters. It's too dangerous. There's too much barge traffic and, increasingly, riverboats. And there are too many twists and turns, too many blind curves. Mark Twain, in Life on the Mississippi (1883), called it "the crookedest river in the world, since in one part of its journey it uses up one thousand three hundred miles to cover the same ground that the crow would fly over in six hundred and seventy-five."

Another feature of the Lower Mississippi is no locks. No dams or rapids to slow traffic. As a result, tows can extend to 32 or 40 barges – an amazing sight and a wonder to navigate. Above St. Louis on the Upper Mississippi and on the Ohio, there are locks and dams galore. As a result, tows are limited to 15 barges – the maximum number that can fit through the locks, which are typically 1,000 feet in length.

Here's an interesting factoid: It takes 90 days or three months for a single drop of water to travel the length of the Mississippi – from its origin in Lake Itasca, Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, a distance of 2,340 miles. That works out to roughly one knot an hour, but the current on the Lower Mississippi is often much stronger, at up to three or four knots. The average is brought down by all the twists and turns of the "crookedest river."

SIGHTS & SOUNDS

Our cruise started in "Music City" – Memphis – with a pre-cruise visit to Graceland. You know, Elvis Presley's place? Loud, boisterous, a little raunchy, people from all over, everyone having a good time – the way Elvis would have liked it.

We also toured the Peabody Hotel, home of the famous ducks. You know the story, right? Twice a day the "Peabody ducks," five of them, come down in an elevator from their rooftop digs and walk a red carpet to their daytime home in the grand fountain in the hotel's lobby. Hundreds of people arrive each day in time for the 11:00 am entrance and 5:00 pm departure of the ducks, who are directed by a "duck master" outfitted in red velvet and a cane.

A sight to see, and a big moneymaker for the hotel as people come and stay for a while, eating and drinking the whole time.

So Elvis and the ducks put everyone in the right mood for cruising, and we boarded the American Symphony on a Sunday for the 640-mile, 10-day journey to New Orleans.

Our first stop was Cleveland, Mississippi, named for the eponymous President and home to Delta State University, the "Fighting Okra." Located in the Mississippi Delta region, it was a center of cotton and rice production before and after the Civil War.

Next came Vicksburg, one of the highlights of the cruise and a delight to all the Civil War buffs onboard. We toured by motor coach around the vast battlefield dotted by more than 1,400 monuments and memorials to the men and women who fought and died there. There's also a wonderful on-site museum, all part of the Vicksburg National Military Park.

Ever been to a cotton plantation? Neither had we, but we got our chance the next day when we docked in Natchez, home to some of the most beautiful mansions you'll ever see. We crossed the river by bus to Vidalia, Louisiana and visited Frogmore, a restored, highly mechanized 1,800-acre cotton plantation where we toured the fields and visited a working, computerized cotton gin. Separating the white "lint" (which is spun into cotton) from the seeds is no easy task, and I finally learned what a "cotton gin" really did.

How about an old-fashioned pig roast? Ever been to one of them? For a foodie like me, it was a definite highlight, and we were not disappointed. Located on Bayou Sara (which was dry due to lack of rain; the year before the boat had been able to pull right up to it) in St. Francisville, Louisiana, we had to travel by bus to reach the Oyster Bar (really a restored fishing shack), where the entire staff was waiting for us. It was easily the best pork I've ever had.

And while I'm on the subject of food, the menus onboard American Symphony were outstanding, featuring many regional dishes. Crawfish hash, catfish po' boy, chicken and sausage gumbo, country fried steak, BBQ ribs, New Orleans Creole pasta, spiced pork belly. A gourmet's delight!

The entertainment in the evening in the River Lounge was equally authentic. Blues band Chris Gill & the Sole Shakers, fiddlers Dwight and Wayne Thibodeaux, jazz trumpeter Wendell Brunious and clarinetist Caroline Fromell, to name a few.

There were other stops along the way, but I'm running out of space here and you get the idea. I do want to mention that at each stop we had an experienced guide on board the bus, who briefed us on the local color and culture of the place we were visiting. Most were retired teachers or local professionals who got a big kick out of spinning yarns and telling tales and just educating us out-of-towners. We soaked it up.

SILENCE OF THE RIVER

But the real joy was just being on the river, sitting in a rocker and watching the river – and the world – go by. And the stillness, the silence, when suddenly a barge tow comes into view, rounding a bend and looking like a mirage, moving ever so slowly toward you, majestic in its size and breadth and lording it over everything else on the river.

You can't hear it yet, but you can see it, coming at you slowly, steadily, relentlessly, timelessly. It's like a freeze-frame, implanted in your memory and your brain. Like the river itself, beautiful, quiet, majestic, enveloping you in its wonder and taking you back to an earlier time.