I'm one who can only handle cities in small doses. Camped out across the river, I wound up sleeping in my hammock for the first time in months which was a joy! The following morning I crossed the frantic Hwy 90 bridge which placed me directly in downtown New Orleans. On this trip my only real goal was to visit the French Quarter and see what that whole scene was about. It was a Saturday so I was fortunate to arrive early enough to ride some of the streets before they closed for walking-only areas. The smell of Bourbon street's freshly hosed pavement was a realization of what it must be like on most weekend nights. The architecture was unique and drew my eye skyward toward balconies and various colonial touches that are distinct to New Orleans. Art was everywhere! Vendors set up stalls near the court house and the flea market pavilion was just setting up. Every hour or so, a marriage procession would round the corner. Police on motor scooters would clear the streets of pedestrians as a three piece band played ahead of the couple dancing down the street. Folks on the street would clap and photograph the procession, involved in the lively entertainment and enraptured with their own memories or futures of holy matrimony. The day progressed and more tourists flocked to the area. Traffic increased and I could feel the walls of the city closing in on me. With few safe places to park the scooter for any length of time, encumbered by motorcycle gear and the ultimate desire to be in the great outdoors, I plugged in some random spot along the Gulf Coast and followed the GPS to greener pastures. Leaving New Orleans, the remnants of Hurricane Katrina were still evident in crumbling buildings, boarded up businesses and boats marooned in regrown forests. The devastation of the event may be mostly swept away in the tourist parts of town, but is still a reality for many.
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It had been 7 months since I last passed the mighty Mississippi River heading for Alaska. It was a jubilant moment as the great levy appeared before me.
The temperature fell 40 degrees overnight and a cold north wind blew in. Brrr! Kammie suggested we explore the Rip Van Winkle Gardens and see Lake Peigneur. Sure! I passed by the sign for it on the way in to town and didn't quite know the history. The site is built atop one of the many salt domes dotting the southern Louisiana coast. The site is home to a colorful botanical garden and the 1870 home of actor Joseph Jefferson. Jefferson was most well known for his portrayal of Rip Van Winkle in the travelling play of Washington Irvine's American classic. The home and surrounding gardens were later purchased by the Bayless family and managed into a paradise of camellia and other various imported exotics. Since the 1990's peacocks roam wild in the trees and throughout the grounds, sometimes alerting with their unique and loud call. Lake Peigneur was most famously the site of an oil drill gone VERY bad when the salt mine below was accidentally punctured. As a result, this once 10ft deep freshwater lake was backfilled by the canal as a giant whirlpool began in the center. The devestating gyre swallowed up the drilling rig, barges, docks and many structures in the area. One of these structures was the Bayless' 8 month old home, the chimney of which still remains standing out of the lake surface.
My friend Ara (www.theoasisofmysoul.com) passed along the advice to look up a friend in southern Louisiana when I got that direction. He connected me to Kammie and we arranged to meet when I'd be passing through. With my consistently poor habit of slacking off for a while then knocking out big miles, I was ahead of schedule. Whatever schedule that may be? Unsure exactly what to expect from the encounter, I knew it would at least be an opportunity to meet someone new and see a different side of the south I hadn't yet considered. I was welcomed with open arms and given a unique sight of the south from her viewpoint in the city of New Iberia. Situated on the Bayou Teche, the town was established by Malagueños colonists in the late 18th century and saw further developent following the "war between the states". Nearby was the notable Avery Island, home of Tabasco, Lake Peigneur, and a variety of culinary destinations to fill the time. We spent much time sharing stories of riding and roads past, the lure of adventure and the balance of comfort in solitude and a life among friends. Despite each of us pursuing different paths in life, there was no shortage of colorful conversation. One highlight of the visit was meeting her 92 year old mother, a lifelong resident of New Iberia. Her brief references to the past and the history of the town over the course of my time spent in her kitchen was quite memorable. Similarly unforgettable was the rich and savory smell, then taste of seared boneless pork ribs in a cajun roux served over white rice with a side of green beans. "Down here we have our biggest meal of the day now, so eat up!" During my few days in town, I also had the opportunity to try some local seafood eateries such as the Seafood Connection and another whose name escapes me but is something like "Good Seafood"? Maybe not. Regardless, from the spicy 1/2 dozen steamed crabs to the rich seafood gumbo or fried catfish, I was in cajun gut growing heaven! Each meal was delicious, simple and authentic to the falvors of the region. In the nearby town of Jeanertte was the historic LeJeune Bakery dating from 1884. A small glass knobbed victorian door still serves as the side entrance. The old oven responsible for many a loaf of bread is still in operation as the yeasty and familiar scent of fresh bread fills the nostrils. The baker on duty walks back to the oven and retrieves a fresh loaf of french bread cooked that day. Like the man seen departing, a nibble on the crispy outer crust is a time honored tradition as well. Kammie informs me that in addition to the simple ingredients and distinct recipe, it is the amount of salt added that contributes to the classic french bread flavor. Most of Louisiana exists in a flood zone or very near the high water line. As a result, most cemeteries are built with above ground tombs to keep the streets free of caskets during the many weather events in the area. The stark white marble or stucco on brick gives the graveyard a sense of purity and cleanliness while the blackness of dirt and time wears at each crack and weakness, much like the lives or many interred. Plastic flowers grace many of the graves for a splash of color and positivity. Not many friends will take you to a graveyard on the first day you meet them, but the photographer and adventurer in me finds that it is not the first this has happened in my travels! (The Peek's in AK and nearby Spirit Houses) The quality of my stay in New Iberia lies directly in Kammie's hands for being so hospitable and willing to share what she loves most about Louisiana. The people I met on my travels and the colorful dialect spoken through the region are a wonderful representation of the past living on today.
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Mike SaundersIn May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. Archives
April 2018
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