Clarksdale, Mississippi to Memphis, Tennessee

Rain blew in in the nights, ending a long string of 80 degree days, and summer.  We visited the Delta Blues museum in the old Clarksdale train station, saw some blues stuff and learned a little,

then drove to the crossroads of (old) Hwy 61 and 49, one candidate for where Robt Johnson made his deal with the devil.

makes some sense - it's well known the devil loves pork fat and there's an old meat store on the corner.

We drove on north on Hwy 61, the highway so many people followed north out of the delta for a better life in the industrial north: Memphis, St Louis, Kansas City, Chicago.  Endless cotton fields with bales of cotton standing everywhere waiting to be picked up.

We drove into Tennessee and the outskirts of Memphis past the King's house, paid our respects but didn't stop[ in the wind and rain.

Coming into Memphis from the south we passed much blight, learn ing later it is the poorest and most distressed part of the city.  But amusing in its own way.

The  Mississippi River cold and windy from our hotel,

we walked down the trolley line, hoping for a ride,

past Beale Street, the neon just lighting up

down a side street to Central Cafe and a rack of Memphis style barbecued ribs, moist, tender, full of flavor and a glass of  Hop Project from Yazoo Brewing in Nashville.  A most satisfying end to a cold and blustery day, Piglet.