Natchez, MS

2009-08-14: I woke up late, and I was still a bit tired, but today would be a long trip. I planned to cross Mississippi in its entirety, diagonally, via the Natchez Trace Parkway. I washed up a bit, badly in need of a shower, but I made do with what I had. Natchez wasn't far from where I'd slept, and when I arrived I explored the town a little bit. It looked to have a lot of history, though I was mostly passing through and did not look into it.

It was here that I had what I would call the definitive Southern experience. I had fueled and cleaned my car at a gas station, and I went in to get something to drink. There stood what I assumed to be some of the Natchez locals. Three men in their twenties or thirties were chatting with the clerk, a young black woman, in a way that suggested they were being distracting and wasting time. One of them was clad only in overalls, forgoing shoes, even. Another wore shorts and sandals but no shirt. The third, I don't recall, but it's likely his attire was more sensible.

In this place, 2 liter bottles of Coke were sold in a sort of carrier that held four of those bottles. The one in overalls struggled to pull one of them loose, and that was when his shirtless friend said (and I transliterate this as best I can) "cain't dew thait stewpid!". To which he replied, "cain tew!". I was a little culture shocked. I paid for my Gatorade and left, unsure what to think. I'd been told the south is "different" and I had a feeling what I'd witnessed was completely mundane. "Onward" was my only thought as I drove toward the head of the parkway.

Grand Isle State Park, LA » Natchez, MS

2009-08-14: State Highway 1, the road I used to travel to Grand Isle, was unremarkable until I reached the southern half of Lafourche Parish (they don't have counties in Louisiana). At first, the road began to wind back and forth over series of little bridges, involving many ninety degree turns and confusing right-of-way situations. Eventually the road was a narrow strip of dry land through a complex series of waterways and islands. Many interesting things were visible from the highway, even though night had fallen. Huge ships, whether fishing vessels or those that supported the massive oil and gas fields, as well as cranes and towers of many kinds, all did their respective jobs. Sometimes, only wild bayou lay adjacent to the road.

Toward Grand Isle, the land became rural again, or perhaps oil and gas activities were present, just difficult to see. Grand Isle itself seemed sparsely populated, though the hurricane may have had something to do with that. I arrived at the part just before 22:00 and was relieved to see the gate hadn't closed. But poor planning on my part had beaten me again. The park was full, and there was nothing else anywhere near it. I suppose I could have went in and maybe found a place to hide out, but I didn't feel like trying to be sneaky at the time.

So I turned around, and decided to make for Natchez, MS, to get as close as I could manage. I stopped near Lafourche and got this neat, but blurry, photo (due to being in a hurry). I drove and drove until I finally saw the stars and bars of the Mississippi flag and found a visitors' center, where I finally got my much needed sleep.

New Orleans, LA

2009-08-14: I still had no real plan so I decided to go to New Orleans, as there would surely be things to do and see. Indeed, as it was Friday. I was driving literally on top of a levee after leaving the park on a road that may or may not have had a name. From there I had access to I-10. I-10 was elevated above the Atchafalaya Swamp and went on for nearly 20 miles. Looking over the side, swampland stretched to the horizon. Perfect blue skies were mirrored by the gently flowing waters below, and vegetation, so vivid in its verdancy, broke apart the reflection wherever the waterways were sufficiently shallow.

I-10 passed through Baton Rouge, or more accurately, seemed to bypass the capital. I cannot say I saw anything of note in that area, aside from a long bridge over the Mississippi River. The highway then passed over parts of Lake Pontchartrain, elevated just above the water. I was unfamiliar with the layout of New Orleans, and this was a pleasant surprise.

I arrived in New Orleans in the early afternoon. This was good, as I could explore the French Quarter before the madness began. As was to be expected, parking was difficult to find, although I managed to get an introductory tour to the area with so much driving around. Much of this area was thankfully closed to vehicle traffic.

The architecture was well preserved and quite elegant, if worn a bit from time as well as Hurricane Katrina. Buildings were colorful and what grounds they had were well maintained. It retained its historic essence as well, I believe. It was a fusion of many cultures. It felt old, broken in, and just a bit mysterious. One peek through a gate or into an alley could reveal a fountain, courtyard, or statue of some sort. I thought that I could expect to find just about anything here.

I stopped at one of the myriad restaurants for some quick and mostly authentic local favorites, including red beans and rice, jambalaya, gumbo, and little local beer and wine, which you could take with you onto the street!

As the evening approached, I'd walked around as much as I'd wanted to, photographing interesting things when I remembered, as there was just so much to see. And that's when the party began. Just like the bayou, New Orleans comes alive as the evening approaches. Revelers of all types appeared in the streets, and as the alcohol began to flow, promoters tempted them with entertainment of the more risqué sort. I would have liked to stay for the party, but I hadn't planned where I'd be camping so I had to move on. I made my way back to me Jeep and the strange quietude of the neighborhood had returned.

I left the French Quarter and set out to find a place to check my maps and make plans. As I rounded the nearby city blocks, I witnessed what Hurricane Katrina had done. Entire skyscrapers appeared abandoned, and residential areas had fared poorly as well. Though the French Quarter had been repaired, there was much to do yet.

I found a quiet and stunningly beautiful cemetery which gave me the peace I needed to prepare my next steps. I decided I'd go to Grand Isle, and return to the gulf.

Lake Fausse Point State Park

2009-08-14: I'd become accustomed to the heat and humidity, but that did not stop me from sweating profusely as soon as the day began. I set out to hike the swamp trails and was immediately hit hard by swarming mosquitoes as I attempted to take a photo. I went back to my camp, sprayed myself with repellent, and returned to the trails. But with the sweating, it wore off in about 20 minutes. I did, however, discover one thing. Mosquitoes here didn't move very quickly. As long as I walked briskly, they wouldn't be able to land on me. That made photography a challenge.

Sometimes the trail had a boardwalk, but mostly it was a muddy path. I noticed a similarity to the Pacific northwest, in that things grew everywhere they could. They were just smaller here. I found it to be quite beautiful and maybe a bit exotic.

Beaumont » Lake Fausse Point State Park, LA

2009-08-13: Today I decided to use only my sense of direction to navigate. My only objective was "travel east along the coast". I made a few stops in Port Arthur, TX for supplies. It was a town dominated by its refineries, and was accordingly run down and quite polluted. But once I had reached the edge of town, the marshy coastline appeared pristine and wild, although I suspect water pollution was still present if not visible. Oil platforms could be seen in the distance out on the gulf.

Damage from Hurricane Katrina was still quite prevalent. Along the roadside, abandoned vehicles, such as minivans and boats, could be seen slowly disintegrating and sinking into the marshes. Many buildings had been severely damaged by wind and water. Some were in the process of being repaired, while others hadn't been touched.

Along the road, there were tiny piers for fishing, some occupied, sometimes by a lone fisherman, sometimes by an entire family. The road was nearly empty, and with the sunshine and the ocean breeze, these anglers appeared quite content. I stopped occasionally to enjoy the fine weather and to watch the wildlife, mostly wetland birds.

Unexpectedly, I came upon a ferry crossing near the town of Cameron. While I waited to cross, a somewhat large and interesting ship, the Candy Counter, came through on its way out to sea.

The highway I was following then turned north. I stopped for a few more things I needed, and searched for a place to camp, intending to explore some bayou land. Lake Fausse Point State Park appeared on my map, and I made my way there. Inland Louisiana was hot, lush, and very different from what I'd seen prior. Sugar cane and other unidentifiable crops were grown in small plots of land. Wetland trees, rustic houses, ditches, levees, dikes, and every other kind of waterway dominated the scenery, and there was something new around each curve in the roads as they wound through the bayou.

I made it to the park and got set up. In the early evening I went looking for alligators near the Atchafalaya River, intending to photograph one, though none appeared. The bayou was strangely quiet...until the sun went down. Then it seemed to come to life as insects, frogs, and so many other living things sang their nocturnal songs.

I planned an early start for my hike through the park, but it was incredibly hot and humid at night. I found myself on my hands and knees pouring sweat and attempting to cool off in the still air. Eventually I did cool down, and slowly laid back down, and then began sweating again almost immediately, and I repeated the cycle. Eventually I was exhausted enough to fall asleep. Later, I was awoke to hear something shuffling, scratching, and snorting outside my tent. I found my flashlight and shined it outside to find an armadillo digging away at the roots of a nearby tree. I slapped the tent wall, hoping to make it leave, and it jumped straight up, but it never looked back at me, and it resumed its excavation. I decided it would probably move on soon enough and went back to sleep.

Travel Notes: Bird Island » Beaumont, TX

2009-08-12: I left Bird Island Basin somewhat early and intended to get into Louisiana, or as close to it as possible. I made a short stop in Rockport, where my former employers maintained a second home, and sent them a postcard. I did not stay long enough to get an impression of the town, but it seemed quiet and close to the water, both good things.

My route would take me through Houston. Travel to the city was easy, and the landscape was mostly unremarkable - flat and dry, as one would expect from the southeast hinterland of Texas. I arrived in Houston just before dusk, and rush hour traffic made it a chaotic and difficult challenge. I did not stop there but the city did seem somewhat worn down, as viewed from the expressway. On the east side of the city, some of the shipyards and associated machinery were visible, and that was interesting to see.

I made it as far as the town of Beaumont before sleepiness required that I stop for the day. I found a highway rest stop and tried to sleep. Unfortunately, the air was mostly still, and the temperature was in the high 80s and humidity was extremely high. I was soaked with sweat but eventually cooled down from it, and managed to sleep. A week later, I happened to hear that a tornado had appeared near where I'd slept and had torn up some shopping centers.