We travel for all kinds of reasons, from work to family, pleasure to pilgrimage; in its most basic form, travel is simply about moving from one point to another. But the journeys that we remember most vividly are the ones that change us in some way — whether by shifting our perspective on something we thought we knew, or by making the foreign more familiar, or even by reintroducing us to the home where we return at the end of the road. In this section, we offer ideas for local adventures — experiences that might just reposition your mindset, no highways or runways required. From a canoe trip across the Mississippi River to a vertical excursion in Soulsville, a stroll through a tranquil garden to a reimagined music festival, Memphis offers a wealth of ways to depart the everyday without ever leaving town. Read on for our suggestions, and let us know which adventure you choose.
photograph courtesy matthew burdine / mississippi river expeditions
Canoe (Yes, Canoe) the Mississippi River
Growing up in Memphis, I was taught to fear the Mississippi River, that most majestic and mighty feature of our natural landscape. From what I pieced together as a kid, the undertow was so strong that to submerge even a single toe in the water proved a death wish. Years ago, when my father bought a kayak and began to take it out on Saturday floats, I worried he would be sucked up by a barge, pulled under by the current, or perhaps beaten up by an angry catfish.
And yet, when I heard last year about a local guide who escorts groups on the river in long canoes, I immediately wanted to get out on the water myself. Fear and curiosity are close cousins, turns out.
Which is how I found myself strapped into a bright blue life vest on a recent Saturday morning, climbing into a ten-person canoe steered by Matthew Burdine, who runs Mississippi River Expeditions, and accompanied by several adventuresome colleagues and one husband (mine). After a quick safety talk (“I’ll keep you alive if you keep me alive”), we pushed off, into the river wilderness that defines our city. Burdine is a character: He’s a Delta native who earned an MBA from Ole Miss, spent time on the Colorado River of the Grand Canyon’s “vertically grand world,” and now introduces Memphians and visitors to the “horizontally grand world” of the Mississippi; his company is an outpost of Quapaw Canoe Company in Clarksdale, Mississippi. With his mane of sunbleached hair and shaggy beard, he fits the part of the river raconteur; as we climbed into the vessel, he slyly warned to watch out for “river mer” (think mermaids and mermen, but “not as pretty”) and “river fairies.”
On that day, the wind was high, a remnant of strong storms the night before, and the river was forceful, so we paddled a ways up the gentler Wolf, instead, beginning where it empties into the Mississippi. After only a few minutes, the noise of the city receded and I could have been convinced we had traveled back hundreds of years, to a time when canoes were the sole mode of river voyage. A catfish leapt out of the water, startling us (or was it a river mer?).
The experience was so entrancing that the very next weekend, I arranged to paddle out with Burdine once more, this time with visiting family. The conditions more serene, Burdine guided us clear across the river to a sandbar wilderness lush with river willows and bright with birdsong. We picnicked there on ‘river charcuterie,’ and picked through driftwood for souvenirs of the day. When eventually we paddled back to the city, only a few hours after we had left, the Downtown skyline shimmered like an apparition.
We didn’t leave Memphis either morning, but I promise you we traveled. If that’s not a ‘staycation,’ I’m not sure what is. — Anna Traverse Fogle
Climb into a Comic Book
photograph by frank murtaugh
I grew up reading Spider-Man comic books, so when my wife recently suggested we give wall-crawling (okay, rock-climbing) a try, I was game. And the first time we walked into Memphis Rox — across the street from the Stax Museum of American Soul Music in Soulsville — we felt like superheroes on a playground. But a playground with a heartfelt mission.
Founded in 2018, this one-of-a-kind gym opened with a belief that “climbing is simply a metaphor for overcoming life’s obstacles, and we believe we climb higher when we climb together.” There are areas for yoga and meditation, and more conventional exercise like free weights and treadmills.
But we go for the climbing. It’s important to have a partner, as scaling a 45-foot wall harnessed to a rope requires someone to belay from ground level. And let me tell you, belaying is as much a workout as climbing. Properly pulling that rope as your partner gains height will fire muscles in your arms and back you haven’t felt in years. And when your partner taps the top of the wall, it’s a victory for two.
Again, Spidey’s my guy. So I channel the web-slinger as I navigate one course or another (I’m still very much a novice). There’s a palm-sweating anxiety to not quite knowing where to place a hand next, but with the confidence that the rope (and your belayer) will hold, you can find that grip. A chalk bag attached to your harness can help with the sweaty palms.
The reward of a strenuous climb completed? You get to let go. Descending gradually, at the pace your belayer allows, feels, yep, like swinging on a web. You’re not flying, and you’re not weightless, but for a few moments, you and terra firma are distant cousins. Kinda feels like you’re in a comic book. — Frank Murtaugh
photograph by jamie harmon
The Art of Listening
With a lifetime’s worth of music available at the click of a phone these days, the art of listening closely to any recording seems, paradoxically, to be vanishing. But not entirely, and Memphis, being a vinyl-loving town, has options for those who still love taking deep dives into the audio arts.
For starters, The Central Station Memphis, part of Hilton’s Curio Collection, has built exquisite listening into its very design, thanks to its collaboration with loudspeaker manufacturer EgglestonWorks. The local boutique audiophile company has installed custom speakers throughout the lobby and guest rooms, but it’s in the 8 & Sand bar and lounge that they really shine. Amid a huge vinyl collection of Memphis-centric records sits a special DJ console made from a vintage organ, and a customized set of speakers tuned to the room’s specifications. Behind the bar, there’s even a smaller listening lounge for those who wish to tune out distractions.
More EgglestonWorks speakers can be found in the one-of-a-kind Memphis Listening Lab (MLL), a non-profit listening library that opened in 2021 on the strength of an extensive vinyl, CD, and book collection amassed by Ardent Studios co-founder John King. “We call it the collection, but I call it his life’s work,” notes MLL board member Sherman Wilmott, reflecting on King’s six decades in the music business. The wide-ranging collection, Wilmott says, is “as if Dr. Demento grew up in Memphis and was into soul and psych[edelic music]. It’s very eclectic.”
Beyond their own collection, MLL’s space within Crosstown Concourse also plays host to listening events, where bands can debut their latest LP, or writers can host discussions of pivotal recordings, as when the Memphis Flyer celebrated Al Green’s two albums from 1972 with a public talk that included producer Boo Mitchell and organist Rev. Charles Hodges. Such events are filled with miraculous moments where the conversation falls to a hush and those in the room focus on one thing: listening. — Alex Greene
Stroll Through the Botanic Garden
photograph by anna traverse fogle
Paddling a canoe down the Mississippi River is about as wild a natural experience as one can have without leaving town. Strolling the crisply manicured walkways of Memphis Botanic Garden, by contrast, offers nature at her most refined. I’ve been visiting the gardens for as long as I can remember — documented through a third-grade drawing I made, of the arching red bridge and duck pond, that was published in The Commercial Appeal. (The crowning achievement of my career as a visual artist, thank you very much.)
Today, my family and I are members and frequent visitors. We like to track the seasons’ progress by watching what’s springing into bloom, and what’s fading into fall, from sweet magnolia and cherry blossom to blazing red maple. We have a favorite duck (he has a broken wing, and yes, we fret about him, though he seems to thrive), and a favorite koi (the bone-white one with a big red splotch between her shoulder blades, if fish had shoulder blades). When the world demands frenetic attention, there’s much to be said for retreating into the gardens for temporary respite. Kids can explore the whimsy of My Big Backyard or the prehistoric plant area with its elevated lookouts; grownups might find culinary inspiration in the herb garden, or drift into a meditative moment in the moongazing pavilion.
The botanic garden is celebrating its 70th anniversary this year, having grown exponentially since its beginnings when the iris garden — centered around a statue of the Greek goddess, Iris — was the full extent of the operation. Other facets of the jewel were added piece by piece: the arboretum, the rose garden (transplanted from Overton Park), the magnolia grove, the woodland teeming with native plants.
The garden does, of course, host events throughout the year, from art installations (on view now through fall: 29 sculptures, created by artist Kristine Mays, that seem to dance with the greenery) to plant sales to holiday lights. But my preferred time to visit is when nothing in particular is happening, the weather’s fine, and I realize I need to pay more attention to the ever-shifting seasons — and maybe say hello to a certain broken-winged duck. — ATF
photograph by anna traverse fogle
Memphis In Maybe
This month, after years of sniping at each other, there is about to come a true reckoning for Memphis, and for the two organizations — the Memphis River Parks Partnership (MRPP) and Memphis in May (MIM) — who’ve been wrangling over the fate of the 30 acres of land along Memphis’ Mississippi waterfront that comprise Tom Lee Park.
That’s good news, to be honest. It’s time to give the competing theories about the future of the park a reality check. And the even better news is that you, dear reader, can take part in what is likely to be a serious test of what future Memphis in Mays will look and feel like. All you have to do is show up for Music Fest (May 5-7) and/or the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest (May 17-20) to witness — and participate in — a clash of competing visions of the future.
MRPP says the park is 80 percent completed. So how will the greatly redesigned landscape, partially completed shelters and playgrounds, and new trails and natural areas stand up against 30,000 music fans whose minds will be on music, not landscape design? And, two weeks later, how will the new hills and moguls, trees, shrubs, and paths withstand a second onslaught of four days of BBQ contest partying and temporary construction?
And let’s not forget that Memphis in May almost always has a couple of rain days. In the past, after MIM’s two major events, the park was a disaster area, a muddy, gross morass littered with discarded tennis shoes, boots, and clothing, food and drink detritus, and ever-aromatic porta-potties.
How will it go this year? Will MIM be able to make enough money to cover its expenses? And how much will it cost to put the park back in shape to repair and finish MRPP’s vision of a “world-class riverfront.” Those are the key questions, and you have the opportunity to experience the real-world experiment first-hand. — Bruce VanWyngarden
photograph courtesy memphis redbirds
Brilliance at the Ballpark
The “cation” part of any staycation is a getaway, of course. A place where one can feel — literally feel — the weight of everyday stresses lift from one’s shoulders. For 24 years now, AutoZone Park has been that getaway for me. It took a worldwide plague to keep me from the stadium in 2020 and even then, it was more the lack of baseball than the presence of a deadly contagion that prevented me from grabbing a seat down the third-base line.
Baseball is the rare sport that can be as pleasant for those of us who read box scores as it is for those who don’t know the difference between the top and bottom of an inning. To begin with, it’s outside. (Or should be. Domed ballparks are an abomination.) Every medical professional on the planet will advise you of the benefits fresh air provides. The pace of a baseball game cannot be described as frenetic, like those of basketball or football. While not exactly leisurely — every pitch is potential excitement — the game allows for conversation, for strolls along the concourse in search of a snack, for (get this) thinking.
As the Triple-A affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals, our Memphis Redbirds are the big-league stars of tomorrow. You may have heard Albert Pujols became the fourth player to hit 700 home runs last September. Well, in September 2000, Pujols hit a home run at AutoZone Park to win a Pacific Coast League championship for Memphis. Today you can sit in the red seat where that baseball landed.
And there are fireworks at AutoZone Park. Virtually every Saturday night and certainly on or near the Fourth of July, Downtown lights up with postgame rockets and flares. It’s like the climactic scene of The Natural, just no Robert Redford and the explosions aren’t the actual stadium lights. It’s a getaway like no other. — FM
