King's Point Ferry, Mississippi

For the summer, I have an apartment in Vicksburg, Mississippi, where I work for the Corps of Engineers.  A lot of the work we do deals with irrigation and navigable waterways.  So, we're conveniently located on the banks of the Mississippi River.

One of our offices, where they resupply our ships that work on and monitor the river, is about ten minutes away from my office.  I talk to the people there on the phone at times, but have never seen where it is.  Since I had time after work today, I decided to drive over and see.  Once I pulled up out front, I discovered that the satellite installers have decided we are located not in Mississippi but somewhere along the equator.

On my way there, I saw a sign for King's Point Ferry.  River crossings are expensive to build, especially since frequent flooding makes them inaccessible from time to time. To remedy this, there's not always a bridge where you'd like to cross a river, sometimes (especially in very rural areas) there is a ferry.  That's right, just like in Huck Finn, we have ferries to take you across.  The ferry site was about ten miles down a windy, poorly cared-for road, so I decided to check it out.  I've never actually crossed on one.

On the way, I ran across something very interesting and strange.  It was an outcropping of run-down trailers with a small amount of signage along the road.  One sign labeled it as Margaret's, The home of The Double Headed Eagle on Route 4, Box 219 in Vicksburg. Rev. H. D. Dennis is the pastor.  

The Masons among us might note that the Double Headed Eagle is not just any eagle: it is that of the 32nd degree of the Scottish Rite. Furthermore, the two pillars flanking the door of the store are marked with the golden letters B and J, initials familiar to all Masons. 

I was a bit overwhelmed by the sight of this, whatever you'd call it, on the side of the road.  I stopped to take some photos, and noticed a whole crowd of people working outside, just down the hill.  When they saw me, a few broke off and started coming up the hill toward me.  I decided to continue my travel without learning more.  I'm still unsure if it was some sort of cult, overzealous Christians, or Masons gone awry.  

I continued my trip toward the ferry site, heading down a progressively narrower and poorly paved road.  Eventually, I found myself in what could only be considered woodland swamp and passed a small outcropping of shacks in various stages of construction, use, and disuse.

Finally, after what seemed a much longer distance than the sign promised, I found myself at the banks of a tributary.  The 50,000 lb limit ferry awaited my use.  I didn't know where it would take me, though, and was starting to run low on gas so I headed on back to my apartment.  There is another, much larger, ferry that can take me across the Mississippi River not far from the office.  Perhaps another day I'll see where this new method of transit takes me.