Moonlight Reflections

Natchez Trace State Park, Tennessee – 15 March, 2006

We settled into Natchez Trace State Park two nights ago. The Park is between Nashville and Memphis off I-40. It has 210 lake-front campsites, equestrian trails, hiking trails and an archery range.


The moon was full at 5 AM yesterday. I'm reminded that in 14.5 days, on March 29, the moon has a fixed noontime appointment to totally eclipse the sun. One researcher is now riding his mountain bike (named eddie) in a strange land. He is carrying a flask of liquid helium and other electronic and scientific gear and preparing to conduct a startling experiment involving, I believe, superstrings and bending rays of starlight.


His online name is newolder and his travels and experiments are posted in real time on his eclipse site. Drop him a word of encouragement and a wish for clear skies.

After our morning push-ups, sit-ups and jumping jacks, we fix turkey sandwiches and hike three miles to the Park's lodge and villas. To my dismay, we discover two unpublished tennis courts. We walk back, changed clothes and take the gas-dripping motorbike back to the courts so I can receive my usual 6-1, 6-0 drubbing.


They are serving all-you-can-eat Crazy Chicken in the lodge tonight for $6.95. I'm curious to see what it is, but we decide to pass and eat salmon salad again.

Natchez Trace is the name of a 440 mile trail that was used for commerce in the early 1800s. The trail ran from Nashville to Natchez on the Mississippi. Traders ran flat boats down the Cumberland, Tennessee and Mississippi rivers to Natchez then returned overland on the trail. The boats were floated down the Mississippi to New Orleans and sold for lumber due to the strong current. There is a Natchez Trace highway that roughly follows the path of the old trail. Merriwether Lewis committed suicide or was assassinated on the trail. The Park Service has so far refused to allow his exhumation to help confirm the assassination theorists. We will cross trails with Lewis and Clark several times on this trip.

Tomorrow we are driving 312 miles to Mountain Home, Arkansas, to see how Paul has progressed on his mansion-in-the-woods in the three months since we last saw him. He says he has some painting for me. Hope he's invested in an airless spray gun. I left mine home. I ask my faithful companion if we can have liver and onions for St Patrick's day and she replies that she is not Irish.