Natchez sits on a high bluff above the Mississippi, the southern end of the long, gentle ribbon that is the Natchez Trace Parkway. About fifteen thousand people live in town now, but in the decades before the Civil War it was among the richest places in the country, home to cotton planters whose mansions still stand along the quiet streets. Many of those houses are open to visitors, and the old river landing at Natchez Under-the-Hill, once a rowdy port, sits below the bluff with a view of the huge brown river and the bridge to Louisiana.
The Trace itself is far older than any of that. It began as a trail used by Choctaw, Chickasaw and Natchez peoples, and later by boatmen who floated goods down the Mississippi, sold them and walked home north along the path. The modern parkway, a national park road that runs some four hundred and forty miles to Nashville, follows much of that route. It is a superb motorcycle road precisely because it is so calm: the speed limit is about fifty, there are no commercial trucks, no billboards, and the road is wrapped in forest of pine, oak and magnolia.
Riding the southern end, you pass old mounds, such as Emerald Mound, one of the largest Native ceremonial mounds in the country, and quiet pull-offs where sunken sections of the original trail are still visible. Deer are the main hazard, especially at dawn and dusk, and the heat in summer is thick and humid. Spring and autumn are ideal, with softer light and cooler mornings. There is little fuel along the Trace itself, so fill the tank in Natchez before heading north.
In town, eat something Southern: catfish, fried green tomatoes, gumbo and pie are all done well here. Sit by the river at sundown and watch the barges push slowly past. It is a place to finish a long ride and stay the night, the sort of town where the pace is set by the water rather than the clock.