Or over a month, whichever sounds worse.

This past weekend, though, I found myself in Biloxi, smack dab in the middle of Mississippi’s manmade coastline…and I didn’t clean up a thing.

I didn’t have to.

Now, it wasn’t entirely a planned trip. We’d been wrestling with the stress of moving, jobs, waiting, impatience, final grades, and a brief interlude of “rest,” shall we call it, before I was to begin teaching for the summer. This period lasted for two weeks.

The plan was to get away, even if it was just a day or two. The plan was originally, to visit family. Family that lives in Hattiesburg. Hattiesburg which is close to the coast. So, being that close, well…you know what they say: When in Rome, might as well drive on out to Villaggio dei Pescatori.

Rome’s not quite on the beach, itself, you see.

Of course, Biloxi’s no Rome, or Villagio dei Pescatori, but let me tell you—a very easy, relaxing, fairly inexpensive, little getaway, it is.

And that was a pleasant surprise.

I was more than ready to drop everything, should someone approach me and miraculously know that I’d registered as a Volunteer because guilt goes a long way with me, but believe it or not, there was not a drop of oil in sight along the Mississippi coastline.

Nada. Zip. Zilch. Can you believe it?

Since Katrina, it appears that they’ve finally made an effort to clean up the coast; the oil spill however threatens to put a big, shiny kink in that plan. But, it hasn’t…yet.

The Mississippi Coast is untouched and bearing its rather empty beaches to the masses in all its native glory.

Granted, the Mississippi Sound carries that age-old fishy smell, but at least it’s a natural smell. They can hardly help where the Barrier Islands were put by Mother Nature.  And on the plus side, the beaches now have real sand, deep sand, up to your ankles easy, and it is as sugared as our neighbors over in Alabama.  (Another neat fact? We walked out nearly 300 feet into the Sound and it barely grazed our thighs. I found out later that we’re one of the only natural harbors in the world where the depth between shore and islands is never more than 20 feet deep.

…oh, and before I go any further, I would be remiss if I didn’t offer apologies to K.P.  But, don’t worry! We’re going back, avec you, I promise…!)

OK. Continuing…

One of my tiny dreams has always been to visit Ship Island, and since this spur of the moment trip wasn’t all that well-planned, Amanda and I literally drove into the Harbor parking lot with less than minutes to spare.  The foghorn was blasting (it was a terrifying sound, but not nearly as terrifying as the beer-drinking family that we had to squish in beside on the boat; almost four beers each, not even ten minutes into the ride; I nicknamed the mother, Cooter Brown).

My advice? Don’t be late to the boat.  

In my mind, I expected that there’d be no people on board. I thought they might be scared to visit, considering the oil spill. I shared a moment with Amanda where we thought that might still be the case. If not in the Sound, then definitely around Ship Island.

Again, I am happy to say, I was mistaken.

And though the boat was packed to the brim, the island had plenty of room to spare.  The shores were pristine; the water on the western side was gorgeous. I mean, shockingly beautiful: a clear, jade green. We got there early that morning, before the beach was awake and aware of intruders…but Ship Island, as you know, is a preserve, and its beauty, though small, is nonetheless breathtaking for all its untouched-ness.

The sun was scorching, however; they’re not kidding about that. And once on the island, you’re there until they come back and get you. There are no houses, condos, resorts on it. Just a snack stand, some showers, and pavilion with picnic tables and restrooms, and what feels like endless beach.  With real waves. That was always a disappointment in the Sound. The barrier islands keep waves out, but out on the barrier islands, it is a very different story.

And the wildlife.  I can’t tell you how many crabs we saw while beach-combing. And I’m not talking about your typical shore crab. I’m talking about crabs that are as big as a baby’s head. They eventually got tired of the sight of us and headed out to sea, with the fish, a few of which, about arm’s length, were not afraid of me.

I think the most amazing thing we witnessed were the dolphins. They literally jumped fully out of the water and chased the boat’s wake, there and back; the ride took about 50 minutes, each way. They were impossible to photograph, sadly.  

Our five hour sun-bathing, beach excursion was over before I could blink, though I did blink quite a bit both at the brightness of the sun on the sand, and the sunscreen dripping down my face. I’ve never known so hot a sun. Or sea water: I swear, it was as warm as a bath in most places.

Before we left though, history nut that I can be, I wanted to tour the much-smaller-in-real-life-than-in-the-brochure Fort Massachusetts. It took less than ten minutes, and offered two vital things: cooler spots to rest in, and fantastic views of the whole island. In the distance, you could just spot Gulfport and Biloxi, and the towers which are the economic livelihood of the Mississippi Gulf Coast: casinos.

I know I rarely harp on and on about these types of things, and I apologize if there’s a severe lack of anticipated wit in this particular entry, but, I’ve always been pro-Mississippi, if for no other reason than a man should take pride in where he comes from. I realize there are lots of things about our history that don’t put us in the best of light (we re-thought a tour of Beauvoir, but I still wouldn’t mind seeing inside it); still, there’s an awful lot that is and should be put up under the harshest fluorescents: the continuing saga that is a our gulf coast is one of them…and not just the usual destinations of Biloxi and Gulfport. On my return trip, we’ve been invited to stay in Bay St. Louis, which I hear is just shy of being an arts-colony, with slightly more private beaches, teeming with sea oats and shallow waters. 

I can hardly wait.

Especially if Fate changes course and the oil drifts our way. (It still seems a bit inevitable, doesn’t it?)

Where we stayed was under $100 a night; we weren’t there long enough to see holes eaten in our wallets, but it was a condo, and it was by the beach…though not on it. We could have easily bought fresh shrimp (they’re still allowed to fish in the Sound) and eaten at the condo, but instead, we shelled out money for two coast-only meals: a place called Shady’s (Thai-American fusion) and the Beau Rivage buffet, famous as is.

Altogether, we spent less on this beach trip than in previous years; we typically go to Gulfshores, Alabama, where the sand and sea are generally nicer, but the food isn’t.  However, with a boat ride to the Barrier Islands (Ship Island cost $24, round-trip), and a bevy of better restaurants…I’m hard pressed not to consider an in-house trip to the Mississippi Gulf Coast an emerging better buy.

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