It’s impossible to be on the Mississippi Gulf Coast without talking about Katrina. Locals talk about before “the storm” and after. They all have stories — about a teacher who sought refuge in a school and the water line reached 5 1/2 feet and fish were swimming in the classroom, about the military memorabilia that ended up in another person’s yard and the owner couldn’t be tracked down, about homes needing to be gutted. The immediate impact of the widespread evacuations and decisions to start over elsewhere meant that in one school of 620 students, only 120 were back when it re-opened.
Today, nearly 12 years later, the number of households and jobs along the Mississippi Gulf Coast exceed those of before Katrina.
They’re still rebuilding in some spots. You see the occasional empty lot where a home once stood, and most buildings on the beach are no longer allowed. But while I saw plenty of homes and other buildings close to the water on stilts, I was surprised by how many are not.

I heard that it was to do with where FEMA sets the flood zone, that if you don’t need mortgage insurance you can do as you please, even that insurance rates are coming down because new homes are being built better — hurricane-proof windows, reinforced frames and such. That may keep the wind from blowing off the roof or picking up the home and throwing it down somewhere else, but let me know how works out when the next big one comes and there’s widespread flooding.
On the other hand, this 500-year-old oak, the “Friendship Oak” at the University of Southern Mississippi’s Gulf Coast campus with its 155-foot canopy, survived Katrina but lost a piece in a more recent storm.
Thursday was spent along the 
I love hearing about the economic impact of rail-trails because to me, that’s the most convincing argument for a trail. Usually the numbers come from some big study that makes some pretty broad-brush claims.
This morning was just a fabulous ride — all through Vicksburg National Military Park, led by a cyclist with great stories about the park and some of the soldiers. I am now convinced that the best way to experience a national park is by bike. And if you’re biking the Natchez Trace and have the opportunity to tack on some time for Vicksburg, do it.
This one from Illinois has 47 steps to mark the 47 days of the siege, has an open cupola and cost $109,000 back in 1906, or what would be $4.6 million today, and represented 25% of the state’s budget.
The Wisconsin one is simpler, but note the bald eagle at the top. This was the mascot of some of the troops and “Old Abe,” as he was called, was a live bird carried in a box and that the Confederates wanted captured. It survived the war.
Here’s another great monument — to African-American soldiers. The one on the right is looking back fearfully at the past. The one in the middle represents the present and the suffering of war. And the one on the left is looking hopefully into the future.
And there are the trenches and tunnels the Union soldiers dug as they moved closer and closer to Confederate lines and needed to stay hidden from Confederate marksmen. There’s also an ironclad that sunk in the river and has been brought up. Much of the iron is gone and the wood is rotting (where it hasn’t been replaced).
Our afternoon ride was shortened at the last minute — just 10 hilly miles from Port Gibson (no longer a port city because the river shifted) to Windsor Ruins, once a grand antebellum mansion with 23 rooms in rural western Mississippi and about 40 miles south of Vicksburg.
It’s not just M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.
We started the day with a beautiful 35-mile ride around the Ross Bartnett Reservoir in Ridgeland, a suburb of Jackson (the state capital). Blue skies, lots of sun and water on one side all the time means it’s a ride that’s pretty hard to mess up.
This is a rail-trail that stands out for doing the most basic of amenities incredibly well — shelters with running water and real toilets (and even outlets to recharge your phone).
(It’s always about the food isn’t it? Much nicer than my usual style!)