April 5, 2006
Bayou Vista to Luling, Louisiana
Part 1 Ends
I slept well in Bayou Vista and was up early to ride out. However, I still managed to cross the big bridge, over the Atchafalaya River, into Morgan City just as many other folks were crossing in their automobiles. Traffic seemed to be backed up and moving very slowly. Since I was on my bike, I filtered up through the congestion and came to a police officer who had everyone stopped, due to a fender bender on the bridge. I thought he was going to be upset with me for having come to the head of the line but instead, he did a double take, smiled, and waved me through. I smiled back, thanked him, and high-tailed it to the other end of the bridge where the first off-ramp took me down into the city.
I suppose there are larger urban areas but Morgan City was by far the largest town I had seen since leaving Pittsburgh. Even the part of Houston I rode through after having left the airport seemed rural but this place had thickly settled neighborhoods and an industrial character. The road, Louisiana 182, roughened by the heavy truck traffic, continued to pound away as my bike and I rolled over it. East of Morgan City, Route 182 was still running parallel to US-90 and the swamps were on both sides. At one point, the contryside reminded me of a Bear Grylls wilderness survival episode.
Finally, after passing through Amelia crossing over the Avoca Island Cutoff, I turned left onto LA-662 and left the rough LA-182 behind. Route 662 had a much smoother road surface and a better shoulder in places but it was a lonely road with swamps and thick woods on both sides. Very few people lived along this road so there was not much traffic. When a vehicle did pass, it was moving along pretty quickly. At the junction of Routes 662 and 398, there was a gas station/convenience store. I stopped for a break and had a nice chat with the couple of ladies inside running the place. It was becoming warm again so I decided to move on and take as much advantage as might be possible of the morning shade and coolness that was quickly fading.
The next town was Labadieville. But before I reached it, I passed a gravel ramp that led into a fishing area. I stayed on the road which became a bridge over the stream. I got off the bike and looked over into the water and there was another alligator floating along with just his eyes and nose above the water surface. No matter how hot it becomes, you have to be very careful where you take a swim in Louisiana!
Labadieville seemed to be a larger town than most that I had passed through but I didn't stop. I turned onto Route 1 but it seemed to be a busier road than I wanted to have to tolerate, so I took a look at my map. Route 308 was on the other side of the Bayou and running parallel to Route 1. I figured it was worth a look, so I doubled back, crossed the Bayou and picked-up the parallel road. 308 turned out to be a better road, more peaceful and pleasant to ride on.
A bit further along, I reached the junction of Routes 308 and 304, where I checked the map again. Route 304 seemed like a similarly peaceful road, but I wasn't sure. Just then, a really rough looking guy in a pick-up truck came by and slowed down. I asked him and he assured me that 304 was a good road for cycling. He was a nice guy... and turned out to be right. I thanked him and continued on.
As I approached the town of Chackbay, "a suburb of Thibodaux," more houses seemed to be alongside the road and I began to notice trees that were down and huge piles of brush, awaiting pick-up. I was getting closer to New Orleans and it was apparent the hurricane(s) had affected this area.
The driveways of the houses abutted the road and there was a ditch, full of water, running parallel to Route 304. As I passed one home, there was a 5 foot long alligator on the ditch bank at the end of a driveway. This "guy" seemed small, compared to some of the others I had seen but "his" proximity to a home got me thinking. If you lived there, you would have to be armed every time you went out to the end of the driveway to get the paper. If you send the dog or a kid, they might not come back!
Another thing I noticed along these roads were colored Mardi Gras Bead Strings all over the sides of the roads. I picked out a couple of nicely appearing strands and wove them around my bike frame.
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At Chackbay, I joined Route 20 but first decided to try a type of food establishment that I had seen in a couple of places before reaching this town. These places were primarily African-American run and patronized. They looked like the tool shed in my backyard but there were steady streams of folks coming by and picking up their orders. I was curious and hungry. It was shady there, close to noon time, so I went to the window. There were a couple of older African-American men who seemed to be in charge and a couple of other workers inside. They seemed to be a little surprised to see me but were friendly and took my order. The food smelled wonderful.
Out back, there were a couple of picnic tables in the shade so I waited a bit for this obviously home cooked meal. It was a hearty dinner of beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, a roll with butter, a dessert, and a soda. I needed a nap afterwards but opted instead to sit and talk to the two fellows who came out back to join me now that the rush was over. This establishment was an oasis for me, in that time and place.
I was on the road again, this time following Route 20 to Vacherie. The road was lightly traveled until I got close to town, where it seemed to become busy. I opted to take a right on Route 3127, instead of continuing straight and getting onto the River Road. I made the right choice because the traffic went down to almost nothing. Much like several other roads I had been on in Louisiana, there weren't too many people living along Route 3127. I passed a few spots where small groups of men were fishing but for most of its course, I was alone on this road.
The surface of Route 3127 became very rough. I meant to turn left on Home Place and join Route 18, which ran parallel to the Mississippi River. But I waited too long to make that decision and ended up past the point of return. I found myself on a ramp to I-310, near Boutte, Louisiana. Despite signage prohibiting bicycles, there seemed to be no way to turn around, so I continued onward. I pedaled as fast as I could and took the exit ramp down into Luling, which came just before a majestic bridge over the Mississippi.
The Louis Armstrong Airport, servicing New Orleans, is in Kenner, a town about 25 miles West of Downtown. Luling is a neighboring community to Kenner, so I found a nice hotel with a swimming pool and spent the night. Although it was warm, nobody else was using the pool. I took a nice long and peaceful swim, slowly washing away the sweat and road dust, soothing the aches, pains, sunburn, and memories of the disaster aftermath I had witnessed, up close and personally.
I thought about taking another day to go into New Orleans but had seen enough alligators and hurricane damage for one week and decided to move my flight up and go home. The next morning, I did so. And, like that, I was back in Pittsburgh, far removed from the bayous and the destruction of Rita. For a short time after returning home, every time I passed a stream on my bike, I looked, half expecting to see another alligator.
I suppose it is hard to explain but seeing all of that destruction, all day long for 4-5 days got to me and I didn't want to have to process anymore. I couldn't fathom having had to live through it, without escape, as the people I met had done. The experience had a profound effect on me and I resolved to go back. In April of 2007, I did return. If interested, I have the journal for that trip already put together. I'll publish it relatively soon. All the best and safe trevels!
Today's ride: 78 miles (126 km)
Total: 387 miles (623 km)
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9 months ago
9 months ago