The walk to Morganza was hot, hot, hot. The thing I will always remember about it was the complete lack of shade trees under which to find refuge from the sun. Six miles without shade in Louisiana this time of year is rough. There were sighs of relief heard out on Old Highway 1 the other day when a cloud would momentarily pass between the sun and me, and groans when the cloud would eventually drift by and leave me out there again without any protection. The reason why there aren't any trees on this stretch of Old Highway 1 is because when the Mississippi River is high, all of this land is completely under water.
The area is called the Morganza Floodway on the map, and there is a dam that I walked by which holds the water here when the Mississippi is overflowing. The dam and spillway were built to be opened in case floodwaters are threatening the city of New Orleans miles downstream. In this case, a great deal of the Mississippi's water would be allowed to flow across the land to the west and into the Achafalaya River Basin where it would flood the town of Morgan City instead. It was only opened once, very briefly, in the flood of 1973. I think the idea was conceived before Morgan City grew to the size it is today. Nevertheless, the opening of the flood gates would be a most interesting decision for someone to have to make, although it doesn't take much careful consideration to know which town, New Orleans or Morgan City, would be spared.
The thing I was looking forward to seeing most in the town of Morganza (besides the obvious air-conditioner, col'drank, and a po' boy) was the cafe where Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, and Jack Nicholson stopped on their way to New Orleans in the movie, Easy Rider. It was at a cafe in Morganza where they encountered some locals who didn't really appreciate longhaired, motorcycle riding, hippie freaks stopping to have dinner in their town. At this same cafe in Morganza a local old-timer predicted their fate with a famous line, "They won't make it to the Parish line." Well, they didn't all make it to the Parish line. As I remember, while ther were camping that night, some locals came and beat them with baseball bats and Jack Nicholson's part in the movie was over. Unfortunately the cafe has been torn down, and I only got to see its foundation.
Why is this cafe significant to me? Probably because I can relate to the fellas in Easy Rider on a level that I never thought I would when I saw the movie a long time ago. Now and then, when I receive a look of contempt from a local who identifies me as a transient (which they immediately associate with being "up to no good") or hear the mumbles when I walk into a cafe with my backpack on, it sometimes takes me back to this scene in Easy Rider. The good news is that I don't really ever meet these people, I just occasionally catch their looks and hear their mumbles. You see, I never find myself in a conversation with someone who has contempt for a guy who walks down the road carrying a large backpack as a way of life. They don't talk to me, and I never meet them. This usually appears to be a blessing.
A man named Raymond in New Roads saw my need for refuge from the heat, and he gave me the use of his camp on the False River for as long as I want. I have been a resident of New Roads for a week now, savoring my access to an air-conditioner and the opportunity to meet many of the kind people who live here.
Raymond farms a large amount of land around here with his three sons, growing mostly corn and soybeans. Southern Louisiana is in the middle of a severe drought, and I have seen Raymond's need for rain in all of the barren fields that are too dry to plant this year's soybeans. Although it never even looked like it might rain this week and there isn't any mention of it in the forecast for next week, Raymond seems pretty calm about the whole thing. He figures, "When the Lord wants it to rain, I guess it will." Time is running out to get the soybeans planted, but my friend Raymond continues to have an impressive level of acceptance and an admirable faith in a God who controls the weather as well as the outcome of his crops.
Mister Raymond
While I was taking some pictures of the large Catholic church in downtown New Roads, a guy named Peter stopped to inquire as to what I was doing. Peter and I have become good friends, and he took me down to Baton Rouge last week for my first taste of fried alligator strips followed by cafe au'lait and beignets.
Peter
Instead of writing a long discourse on my stay in New Roads, I've decided just to make the rest of this page kind of a "photo essay" of my week here. It has been a great week. As always when I include a good deal of pictures, my apologies and prayers of patience go out to all with slow internet connections.
Roziner, Mary Jane, Marcus, and Theresa
The New Roads Public Library has an extremely friendly staff, as well as one of the fastest, no waiting involved, and use as long as you want internet connections that I have ever experienced in a public library.
On Tuesday, Raymond's son, Ray, took me up in his experimental aircraft. Now, the first thing that I noticed when I saw Ray's plane was the word "experimental" written across the side of it. Even though it sounded like somewhat of a bad idea to fly around 1,000 feet above the ground in something that has "experimental" written on the side, I figured it would be okay since Ray told me he flies it all the time, and he didn't appear to have been disfigured, dismembered, or injured in any way. We were up in the air for an hour and a half, and I loved every minute of it. --even when we hit air pockets and the thought of falling out the side of the plane seemed like a possible reality.
Ray, in his experimental aircraft
From the backseat of Ray's plane. The fact that there isn't any glass on the sides on the plane makes the view much more exciting.
Flying over crawfish ponds.
They raise 'em like cattle down here.
If you have a camp on False River, there is a 99.9% chance
that you have a pier and a place to park your boat as well. Miles and miles of the False River's banks look exactly like this.
It looks like mostly farmland from the road, but from the sky I saw that there were miles of tasty woods around here, too.
A few days into my weeklong residency at Raymond's camp, my neighbor (Jessie) stopped by and invited me over for some fried catfish that he had caught. Jessie and his wife (Anna Mae) were the most neighborly neighbors from that moment on. They've often brought over food, took me to the store and even did my laundry. They only regretted not knowing that I was staying at Raymond's camp the first few days that I was here so they could have done more.
There have been times on my journey that I have been treated like a tramp, a drifter, someone who just jumped off a freight train. I even remember a day when I was once asked to, "move on," while I was resting on a park bench. It's good to be in Southern Louisiana. The people are very nice here.
I've spent the week at Raymond's camp on the False River. Ever since Mister Raymond told me that the snakes like to stay close to the river's edge and don't usually swim out as far as the end of his pier, I've enjoyed jumping off his pier and swimming in the False River every day.
Raymond's pier
I tried to take a picture of the duck living out on Raymond's pier several times this week. She would always quack a couple of times and fly off, leaving me with some very dull pictures of a few eggs laying on an old lawn chair. Today, I think she finally realized that I wasn't going to give up, and she just stayed there with this, "Take the stupid picture and leave me alone." look in her eye. So, I did.
Duck
Jessie and Anna Mae
When a guy in the grocery store said, "Hey, are you the guy who is walking across America and staying at Mister Raymond's camp?" I began to get the feeling that word had gotten out in New Roads that some guy who is walking across America is staying at Mister Raymond's camp. I think that is why my neighbor from across the street, Joey, stopped by today and invited me out on his party barge for dinner with his family and a few friends. He knew who I was and what I was doing in New Roads, and so he invited me to come along.
I felt an immense amount of gratitude out on False River this evening, because I have met so many people who allowed me to be a part of Southern Louisiana, instead of just walking through as an outsider looking in. When people found out that I was walking across America, they wanted to show me what it is like to live here. They turned my mere perceptions of this part of the country into a solid understanding of it, and my mere perceptions of the people who live here have become friendships.
While I was floating around on False River talking with Joey, something interesting also occurred to me. Most people that I have met in Southern Louisiana would never consider living anywhere else. They love it here, and there are many times that I can understand why. If you can look past the humidity, the snakes, and the bugs, it is really a wonderful place to live.
The walk to Morganza was hot, hot, hot. The thing I will always remember about it was the complete lack of shade trees under which to find refuge from the sun. Six miles without shade in Louisiana this time of year is rough. There were sighs of relief heard out on Old Highway 1 the other day when a cloud would momentarily pass between the sun and me, and groans when the cloud would eventually drift by and leave me out there again without any protection. The reason why there aren't any trees on this stretch of Old Highway 1 is because when the Mississippi River is high, all of this land is completely under water. 
