So after the joys of Birmingham, it was off south to the second of the big 3 Alabama cities – Montogomery, AL, where Rosa Parks (Rosa Parks) famously refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white man, sparking the Civil Rights movement.
It is also where Martin Luther King Jnr was a pastor, and where the Montgomery Bus Boycott started.
It is an important city in relation to the Civil Rights movement, so as expected there are a lot of museums and tours of historic places. Having been through the American Civil Rights Museum back in Memphis, I didn’t go into many, but to drive around and see the places where such history was made was inspiring.
Other than it’s history, I didn’t find much in Montgomery to talk about, however on the outskirts I did stumble upon (yes, you guessed it) another craft beer place.
This one is unusual in that it is situated in Hampstead housing estate a few miles outside Montgomery. Hampstead is quite new, surrounded by open land – think Melton about 20 years ago for those Melburnians among you.
The place is fantastic – family friendly, it has it’s outside lawn based kids and pet friendly areas where parents can drink so long as they look after their kids and companions. They do TABLE SERVICE, with barely 5 mins going before a kindly waitress pops around to each table to take orders. They even have free live music at nights, which the kids are front and centre for – some even sitting up with the 2 piece band tonight.
Think North Sydney bowls without the crowds and wankers, with table service. Brilliant. As is their food.
I don’t think you could make this work in a big city – it would just get too busy, but I can see it being a great focal point in a country town.
They even happily let me stay overnight on the street outside – the Tipping Point is part of what can only be called a town square – with shops, a post office etc all in the one area servicing the estate. I’m told it’s ok to spend the night, and they even offer to let the local security guards now so I don’t get the dreaded tap on the window at 2 am.
The next morning, it’s off further south to the coast and Mobile, AL.
Other than being a place often named in books I’ve read, all I know is that it’s on the coast, home of the USS Alabama Battleship exhibit, and it’s on the coast.
As I pull into town, once more downtown seems a little empty, though it is a Saturday. One point to note – whenever you enter a city into a Garmin, it will take you to the central Post Office (which means I’m always driving into the business district first).
I’m trolling around trying to find a spot to stop and google, when the route I’m on leads me to a tunnel crossing part of the city. Forced to go through it I end up coming out at the home of the USS Alabama exhibit, but it’s closing in 15 mins so all I can do is mark it for reference and turn myself around.
Before I do that, I obviously do a little research and it seems I’ve inadvertently driven past the fun part of town – a few blocks of shops, restaurants, bars, and general nightlife.
I punch in the address, and Garmin takes me back exactly the way I came, before turning me down a ratty, broken asphalt, seemingly barren side street. Not that I don’t have trust in Garmin in a general sense, but it has often led me places that simply don’t exist.
And then it appears – a few blocks of narrow road, one way streets and people out seeking some Saturday fun. I get a rock star car park on the main strip, and head out to explore.
It’s a mix of country town main street and King’s Cross (without the drugs, strip joints and violence, so far). But if you venture even a couple of blocks sideways all you will see is a broken district, empty lots, broken roads etc.
It’s a peculiar mix of prosperity and poverty that I haven’t seen before so far.
I’m a bit socialised out, not really up for drunk Saturday night crowds, so I head out to find a quiet place to stay. Quickly I’m conscious that I’m tired of brightly lit carparks, and tbh the streets look a little sketchy, so it’s going to be a splurge in a real room for the night.
After a little bit of interwebbing, I settle on Berney Fly B&B, a surprisingly inexpensive B&B in one of Mobile’s’s historic houses.
Driving there, again I find that all the life and beauty in the city is outside the city centre. Though thinking about that now, in reference to home, it’s the same there.
Wide tree covered streets abound, although this place could rival New Orleans for the state of it’s roads – they are genuinely terrible.
The B&B is run by a chatty gay man, who shows me my room – a HUUGE, high ceilinged period room, with it’s own on-suite. I lucked out, especially given the price.
Although I’m not sure how well I’m going to sleep in such a big space after months of the warm confines of Charlotte’s rear.
I’ll find out soon enough I suppose.
