A View to a Thrill

Visiting Mississippi's very own Grand Canyon

 

 

  Pirate Press (he/him)        Spring 2023  

~Sustainably Sourced Since 1990~

 

For the past decade, I've been fascinated by reports of a beautiful, natural arroyo located just two hours north of me. In fact, it's so striking that viewers have taken to simply substituting the sobriquet of "Mississippi's Little Grand Canyon" for it.

 

The problem has been that it's not close to anything, so justifying a trip just to see it has been out of the question. But thankfully, that all changed during the first week of November when Victoria needed to attend a pre-college dance camp at Perkinston campus. Suddenly, I had a viable excuse for driving the rest of the way to Red Bluff!

Of course, we needed some early morning fuel for the long road trip. So, Amanda and I first headed to Hattiesburg where she wanted to try the new Stuffed Cheesecake Pancakes at Cracker Barrel. Granted, I'm not a big fan of Cracker Barrel and I reminded her that the last time we had eaten breakfast there was in St. Augustine during Spring Break 2003. But despite the nearly 20 year absence, she assured me I wouldn't regret it. 

 

Right off the bat, she ordered a seasonal Cinnamon Roll Latte which looked so sweet even Willy Wonka wouldn't touch it with a 10-foot candy cane. It was an extra-large espresso mixed with Cinnamon Roll-flavoring, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Unfortunately, our waitress was not a good advocate for it as she was missing several of her teeth. But that didn't dissuade a couple seated at the table next to us from asking what it was so they could also try it. Funny enough, I ordered the healthiest thing on the drink menu—a glass of orange juice—but it was never delivered to me so I just stuck to water for the entire meal.

 

It was also amusing imagining the marketing pitch as the Cracker Barrel execs sat around brainstorming how they could possibly make their pancakes even more unhealthy. I assume that there was a cerebral stalemate until someone suggested the absurdity of cheesecake filling. However, I'm also of the mindset that if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing, so I was all-in on the pancakes which additionally get doused in powered sugar and then drowned in strawberry syrup before a couple token strawberry slices are tossed on top in a fleeting gesture to make it appear quasi-nutritious. Likewise for the new Impossible Sausage, Cracker Barrel's first plant-based protein option. If you're ordering cheesecake-stuffed pancakes, I don't think you're overly concerned about the traditional bacon or sausage that comes with it. To me, it makes as much sense as buying an extra-large pizza with a diet Coke.

 

I usually make pancakes on Sunday mornings, so I feel I have a little experience when it comes to cooking them. Given that, I do have to applaud Cracker Barrel for cooking recipe-perfect pancakes that were golden brown with just the right fluffy texture. However, the cheesecake filling was disappointing as it was too thin and runny, akin to a burst egg yolk. I had envisioned a denser texture like a real cheesecake or even filling that had the smooth consistency of ricotta. Despite that, I promptly polished them off, even though it's not something I'd order again.

 

<Click To Enlarge Photos> 

Leaving Hattiesburg, we still had an hour's drive west before we would officially reach our destination (which was smack dab in the middle of nowhere.) And driving in such a remote area, where cell service was spotty and pine trees outnumbered people, I was glad that I had stayed on top of the Santa Fe's service. Unbelievably, we were coming up on eight years of ownership and 142,000 miles with Elsa, the nickname my daughter picked out for our Hyundai due to the Frost White paint and that annoying Disney movie, Frozen. 

As some readers my recall, our original engine bit the dust at 70,000 miles due to oil starvation from a manufacturing defect. It took three months, but Hyundai ultimately returned our Santa Fe with a completely rebuilt engine. So, with the same mileage on our new engine as before, I was eager to see how it was holding up. After all, an oil analysis would have detected the excessive wear and prevented us from breaking down in Atlanta. Naturally, I was a little apprehensive about what the report would reveal, but I wanted to know if we could keep the Hyundai a while longer or needed to trade it in immediately.  

 

Thankfully, the oil analysis was encouraging, with no signs of abnormal wear or any other troubling signs. Given that glowing report, I told Amanda we should shoot for 200,000 miles on the odometer. That would equate to 130,000 miles on the new engine which I feel is more than attainable given how well today's vehicles are built. After all, I have a friend who purchased a 2012 Mustang GT with 200,000 miles on it and he routinely drives it 16 hours to Nashville and back with no issues whatsoever. Of course, I don't have that much confidence in a vehicle, but I think it's admirable that he does.

 

Another step in the Santa Fe's upkeep was changing the spark plugs recently, which turned out to be a major affair. The owner's manual recommends swapping them out every 45K since the turbocharged 2.0-liter is much harder on plugs than a naturally-aspirated one. I get that, and we observed it the first time to keep the warranty intact by having the dealer perform it. However, with the engine officially out of the standard warranty at 100K, I was a little lax in changing them. So, when our Hyundai went in last month for a recall, the dealer wasted no time in hitting us up to replace them. Granted, with almost double the recommended mileage on them (90K) I knew they needed to be changed, so I asked the service advisor what it would cost? When he replied $310, I'm glad I was sitting down because otherwise I might have seriously injured myself. But after I demanded a price breakdown of the parts and labor, he defended the exorbitant amount by stating it was because it was a six-cylinder and required six spark plugs. This infuriated me because it was an outright lie, and as the person who checked the car into service, he knew as well as I did that it was really just a four-cylinder. Despite that, the price quoted worked out to roughly $50 per plug and $100 labor!

 

Of course, I declined the exorbitant service and decided to do it myself. Even better, I found the OEM plugs on Rock Auto and they were just $10 apiece, literally a 4-for-1 deal over the stealership. 

 

Changing them wasn't a big deal as I already had a spark plug socket, and the ignition coils were the most time consuming item. In these modern times, I really miss the ease and convenience of good old-fashioned spark plug wires. But ignition coils are more durable than traditional plug wires, so I suppose it's a trade-off.

 

Naturally, the plugs looked great for having almost 100K on them and it underscores how conservative the factory's maintenance intervals are. Regardless, I was just thrilled that it would be the last time I'd have to change them.  

And just when it seemed we couldn't get any more lost, we had arrived at Red Bluff, the locals' name for the area where Mississippi's own Grand Canyon resides. Now, the actual land is privately owned, but there doesn't seem to be any enforcement of that. In fact, there was even a nicely paved parking area that turned out to be from the previous highway before the erosion forced it to be moved. Additionally, a vacant Honda Civic was already there, indicating that there were people ahead of us which I took as a good omen. I reasoned that if the land owner suddenly snapped and began using trespassers for target practice, at least we'd have a warning! 

 

The entrance down the original Highway 587 is actually blocked off by an old, rusty guardrail, but it has been delightfully decorated with all types of colorful graffiti.

 

I briefly entertained the idea of simply hopping over the weathered balustrade, until I noticed a convenient and well-worn dirt path that years of visitors had etched out. 

Walking down the deserted highway was a very surreal experience as I really felt isolated from everything. It's all too easy to let your mind wander and imagine you've been transported to some post-apocalyptic world.

 

Owning to a height roughly 400 feet above sea level, the final ascent is quite a cardio-intensive activity with the road appearing to simply end by dropping off into eternity.

 

 

Reaching the summit is an initial letdown, as the vista flattens out and appears painfully ordinary. Only two brightly vandalized posts are the singular forewarning that this area of the Pine Belt holds anything special. 

Fortunately, Mother Nature was on her best behavior and the visibility was virtually limitless. A cerulean blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon and provided a perfect foil for the kaleidoscopic topography I'd soon witness.  

 

Of course, I'm here thanks to the Pearl River, a 444-mile watercouse that begins in Philadelphia, Mississippi and follows the Intracoastal Waterway before finally emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. But climate-related events like Hurricane Katrina in 2005 have gradually shifted the river's course, creating the accelerated erosion responsible for Red Bluff's Grand Canyon. 

Pictures (and words) fail to properly capture the awe-inspiring color, shape and scope of the crater that is continually widening and growing due to natural desedimentation from the Pearl River floodplain.

 

But standing on the precipice and gazing out is truly a breathtaking spectacle. It's both scary and stunning as the natural wonder dazzles the eyes but the 200-ft drop induces a constant warning of vertigo.  

Depending on the side and position of the sun, the canyon takes on chameleonic characteristics. My wife blamed my growling stomach when I proclaimed that one side looked like the most beautifully carved slab of prime rib roast I'd ever seen. She said it take longer than 15 mins in the wilderness to start having hallucinations and seeing mirages. But, I defended my position stating that like a Rorschach Test, it was open to personal interpretation.

 

On the opposite side, it looked like digging into the world's largest tub of Neapolitan ice cream- heavy chunks of strawberry, mixed with sandy streaks of vanilla and chocolate. 

 

Walking further down, we witnessed the collapsed Highway 587 firsthand— I've hit some nasty potholes in my time, but this is undoubtedly the mother of them all! I imagine this is what the Highway to Hell looks like, but with lots of fire and Sam Kinison. 😈

 

The opposite side even had some brave climbers tackling the 50-degree angled cliffs. And although I wasn't willing to get dirty, I've heard that further down is wreckage that leads to the remnants of a 1901 train crash. 

Right before we left, Amanda and I both heard some strange growling noises emanating from the woods behind us. She was clearly concerned, but I said that maybe it was just "Cocaine Bear".  Certainly, it was the perfect setting for such a thing and it did hasten our exit. Then I teased Amanda that if it was a crazed grizzly, I didn't have to outrun it. I'd only have to run faster than her, a statement which she did not find amusing, even if it was true.  

 

Despite that, we made it out safely and even passed a family of four walking in. Whether they became  brunch for the unseen creature in the forest is not known, but we certainly enjoyed the panoramic view of Mississippi's Grand Canyon.

Bizarrely, the area also enjoys the distinction of being possibly the only place in the world to actually benefit from climate change as continued erosion will only expand the natural wonder even more.

 

Normally, it's a 110-minute haul from Hurley and I personally wouldn't recommend that jaunt just to visit Red Bluff. But if you're going to be passing through the area, it's definitely worth a detour. In fact, Cosmopolitan named it as the Most Beautiful Place in Mississippi and even crowned it as "Instagram Gold." 

 

But if you do go, please just remember one rule: Don't Feed The Bears! These don't prevent forest fires or wear a tie and swipe your picnic basket. 🙂