Day 20 -- to Memphis

At McKinney Falls State Park in Austin, our campsite had an electrical hook-up, meaning that we could plug the Teardrop in and use all the A/C power we wanted. That place was lousy with electricity, and we luxuriated in it. We turned on the lights and charged our phones and the ipads and my laptop, and allowed ourselves to run the ventilating fan with reckless abandon. (All. Night. Long.)

At the Gulpha Gorge Campground in Hot Springs National Park, we had no hook-ups. We weren't able to charge anything, and, to conserve battery power, we were stingy with the fan-use. So we woke up hotter and sweatier than usual these last two days -- and to make things worse, we couldn't even check Facebook because our phones were dead. The horror.
Thank goodness it's time to move on.

We packed up this morning and moved on toward Memphis. Original plans were to stay at the KOA in West Memphis. But the kids got it in their heads that they want to stay at the Heartbreak Hotel, across the street from Graceland. And you know what? After 10 straight days and nights of camping, and sweating and not-exactly-sleeping in this heat, a stay at the Heartbreak Hotel -- or any structure with air conditioning, running water and complimentary electricity, for that matter -- was sounding pretty good.
So here we are, at the Heartbreak. The kids are absolutely overjoyed. They whooped and cheered when we told them where we'd be staying. In truth, the Heartbreak Hotel isn't any more special than a Super 8. But they don't know that. I think they believe that Elvis actually lived here. And they are captivated by the heart-shaped pool out back, with the jagged tile pattern across the bottom that makes it look broken. And that's where we spent the afternoon.

After pool-time, we got cleaned up and headed downtown to the legendary Beale Street, a historic strip that's packed with blues clubs and restaurants.

When Keith and I moved back to Lafayette from Los Angeles 17 years ago, we stopped overnight in Memphis and spent the next morning sight-seeing around the city. We strolled down Beale Street, and were disappointed that there wasn't much going on. Shops and restaurants were closed. Sidewalks were empty. It was like a ghost town. Granted, it was, like, 9 a.m. on a Sunday. What were we expecting?

Tonight, we finally got to see Beale Street in its full, festive glory. We ate dinner -- ribs! -- at the Blues City Cafe, and then walked up and down Beale to soak in all the atmosphere. There was some kind of motorcycle rally going on, so hundreds of really cool looking bikes were parked along the curbs, with all their bad-ass riders in leather chaps looking on. Live music spilled out from every bar. Neon signs lit up the buildings. And the air was thick with smoke from the barbecue pits. This was the Beale Street that we had wanted to experience all those years ago: vibrant and alive. What fun!