Black Muddy River
We finally got right down by the water. (There's a longer story here, about how we got here and two people we met along the way.)
Ken at the Mississippi River edge.
Alex playing harmonica.
Looking due west (downstream), where barges are loaded. This is a private port facility, unlike the public ports in Greenville and other spots up and down the river. A very nice guy brought us to this spot. He said on a good day it offered the best sunset vantage in the whole area, and we believed him.
Our target for the night was Clarksdale, a hub of the Delta blues. The sun was going down as we stood here watching the river. The guy who had brought us here told us how to get into town without going back out to the highway. The route sped across flat, straight, unlit, unmarked roads between fields and involved a right turn, a left turn, a fork where you should veer in one direction and a stop sign where you should turn the other. It turned out he was headed into Clarksdale himself, and we ended up following his taillights all the way there.
. . . on to Clarksdale