Bayou Self

From the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

Bay·ou - noun \ˈbī-(ˌ)ü, -(ˌ)ō\ : an area of water in the southern U.S. in which the water moves very slowly and is filled with many plants.

Here’s a famous Cajun riddle:

What’s the loneliest Bayou in Louisiana?

Bayou Self

The Monday after Easter is a State holiday and normally as a State employee, I’m given the day off. Quite often I go camping over the 4-day weekend, but my boss scheduled an exercise for us on Monday, so I dutifully stayed close to home. Over the weekend, that exercise was cancelled, so I found myself with a free day and no prior commitments.

Now then, what pray tell will I do with myself?

The decision took all of about 30 seconds. At the end of the day, it was about 450 miles of wonderful adventure. I packed a sandwich and some water and left the house about 6:00 am under some dense fog and an unseasonably cool 60 degrees. By mid-morning, I’m stripped down to just the mesh jacket and was fairly comfortable as it warmed up into the lower 80’s. I pulled back into the driveway about 6:30 pm, my arse quite sore but otherwise no worse for the wear. I guess it goes without saying, but my FJR ran flawlessly – I’ve got a good one here, man.

The only plan I made was to find some waterfront. It was way too late to include anyone else in the ride, so I eagerly made the decision to go…

Bayou Self.

Hope you enjoy the pics.

Stage 1 – Lafayette to Natchitoches, approximately 150 miles.



The dense fog in Lafayette early in the morning was horrible. I decided to head north quick and get away from the coast, hoping for some more visibility. That took a while - I rode north on I-49 about 120 miles, finally exiting at Derry, Louisiana, in the midst of the Kistachie National Forest. Off the slab, I pulled over to drink some water and this sign caught my eye.



I read this paragraph and it really seemed interesting. So, off I went in that direction.



My bike is looking pretty sharp in the Spring time sun! This is how I usually day trip – leave the saddlebags home, and take the top box for essentials.



An old wives tale here assures that if the Pecan Trees have budded, there’s no chance for any more cold weather. I’d say we are in good shape, mid morning and we are already well into the 70s.



A short ride takes me to the Historical Park.



Hwy 119 there is a wonderfully curvy, yet desolate stretch of pavement on this day.



This site was a working cotton plantation run by the Prudomme family. It was common for enterprises of this size to have a general store, which serves as a welcome center for the park.



History buffs may appreciate this.



I visited #1, 4, 5, and 6.



This is the Overseer’s House and also served as the doctor’s quarters for the slaves. It’s a very modest home, even by then standards, but the restoration has been exquisite.



The whole property is laced with 250 year old Live Oak trees. Our State tree, (Edit, not our State tree) Anywhere I go, I love to marvel at these majestic giants – they have taught me great life lessons about the benefit of “bending to prevent from breaking”.



Further back into the property is the slave quarters. These are going through restoration at this time, but a general overview gives one a good idea of it. I’m certainly not proud of this part of my heritage, but like any educated man, I believe firmly in the power of Mr. Santayana’s words (look it up).



I walked by the barn on the way out. This architecture with a wide soffet is very common here, offering additional shade on the long summer days. Those posts are solid cypress, at least 8 x 8 in cross section.



Now back on Hwy 119 heading North, I’m enjoying the cool shade provided by those oak trees. I stopped along the way to look at more plantation homes. This one is privately owned and is immaculately restored.



No way I’m paying the entry fee, but I marveled at the wrought iron work at the gate, and on the house. This architectural style was brought to New Orleans in the mid 1700s from Spain, and quickly spread in all directions.



By the way – I’ve already found plenty of water front. The road I’m on parallel’s the Cane River. Plantations of all kinds were constructed along a river. The delta land adjacent to the river is really fertile, and boat navigation was the best way at the time to move product to market. This would be a wonderful place to live.



Continuing North, I am enjoying the nutty aroma in the air from thousands of mature Pecan Trees on either side of me. This is why you take the bike on adventures. In the truck, you only smell stinky feet.



The wildflowers are incredible. This is Indian Clover.



Although I don’t know the formal name for this yellow flower, my friends call this Milkweed. They say cows love to eat it, but it makes their milk sour. I believe these are beef cattle, though.



The road is incredible. I’ve got it all to myself today. Hope ya’ll are having fun at work, suckers!



Further up the road, I stop at the next plantation for the park – Oakland Plantation. I gather it had nothing to do with the California city, as the plantation was established 75 years before. Rather, it was probably named as a “Land of Oaks”. Another common trait for plantations here is to plant an “alley” of oak trees leading up to the front door.



This place also has a General Store. The price of gas on the pump says $1.02. I tried to fill up, but no dice.

I ride around back to the public parking and start walking. There is plenty of stuff to see on this property. What a beautiful day.



Here’s a shot of one of the cypress barns. The Cypress tree is completely resistant to termites and will not rot even if not painted or sealed – it’s a fantastic building material. I stood in awe of the workmanship. I did not find 1 fastener in this construction – not one nail. Everything is mortised and doweled. Those men were skilled craftsmen.



I heard these guys chirping in the distance, so I asked them if I could join the tour. They were very welcoming.



Ranger Bob lead us inside the General Store first. This place is like I stepped back in time 100 years. Apparently, this store was still in business until the mid 1990’s.



Granny was showing the kids what raw cotton looks (and feels) like. She even let me take a turn.



Raise your hand if you have ever had an R/C Cola in a 10 cent refundable bottle!



Not exactly Microsoft Word!



The kids were getting set up to be “Junior Rangers”. Ranger Bob would not let me participate unless I could swear to him that I was under the age of 18. I thought about it, and decided “Nah”. So while the kids were occupied, I stepped outside to look around. This is the carpentry shop.



You spend a day drilling with this puppy and you’d be one sore fella!



I heard this “pecking” noise and learned that this male cardinal was working feverishly at pecking its own shadow on one of the front windows. It was a hoot to watch.



Apparently, this is the time of year when their hormones are going crazy.



The kids caught up with me and we all agreed that we’ve never seen a cast iron pot that large.



Ranger Bob led us into the Parlor, where he described life on the plantation. The current furnishings are set to reflect the mid 20th century, which is when the last renovation was done.



The kids’ bedroom has solid mahogany furniture. Incredible.



A vanity in the master bedroom



The dining room was by far the largest in the house. The table was on wheels, which made it easy to roll it aside and convert the room to a dance floor. Also, Ranger Bob was demonstrating a “shoe fly” fan that swings from the ceiling.



This bed is in a guest room. Customs of the era dictated that guest allowed to stay at the plantation were not charged any money. However, they were expected to entertain the family with stories of their travels, as well as any news they may have heard.



This is what the “HP” in my username stands for. My legs are quite long. Some neat local folk art.



Here, Ranger Bob is describing to the children a room beneath the floor where a special slave lived. There was a trap door in the floor of the closet, where she could respond when called. The kids were intrigued, but frankly, I got a lump in my throat and an overwhelming feeling of sorrow.



This is a Pigeoneer House – raising pigeons was a sign of wealthy stature. The family would eat squab regularly, and compete in flying competitions with the adults.



This structure is insulated with Bocage – a mixture of mud and Spanish moss. This material was commonly used as insulation, and even siding in less expensive structures. It’s hard as a rock.



I walked through the Overseer’s Cottage



The slave quarters here have been renovated. The home was small (maybe 400 square feet) and used for a complete family of up to 6 people.



A wood burning stove provided heat and a source of cooking. It’s not clear to me if this stove was used to prepare meals for the plantation family or not.



Back on the bike, I headed through Natchitoches and continued to the Red River and Clear Lake delta.

Stage 2, Natchitoches to Godrum, approximately 75 miles.



I swung by a public shooting range on the Red River, only to discover it was closed. So I stopped at the boat launch to drink some water.



Then I pressed further north on Hwy 1221 to find the control structure for Clear Lake. It is very unusual to see any kind of hydraulic jump in Louisiana, small though it may be.



I’m getting hungry, so it must be close to lunch time. I found this nice secluded place on the water to just pull over and eat.



I forgot the requisite food porn, but if you’ve seen one ham sandwich, you’ve pretty much seen them all.

Nice views in this secluded wetland.



Pressing further north, Hwy 1221 turns into the worst piece of paved road I have ever ridden on. I didn’t take any pictures because I was afraid if I stopped the bike, surely I’d drop it. So for about 6 miles, I tip toed through the pot holes at a blistering 15mph. At first I stressed over this, but then turned it into a glorified Parking Lot exercise and all of a sudden, it got to be a little fun.

Stage 3, Godrum, LA to Manifest, LA – approximately 80 miles.



Now turning due East, I met Hwy 126 and the scenery and the road started getting MUCHO better. This place is pine forest that is owned and harvested by the Paper Industry. Miles and miles of sweet smelling pine. As I wander through the curves, I’m mindful of the occasional patch of gravel likely spread onto the road by a logging truck.

Although I was not yet on reserve, the gas stations in these parts are few and far between. So when I found this place on the side of the road in Sikes, LA, I had to stop. Post Office on the left, General Store on the right.



I gave them the $3.80/gallon for the gas (YIKES !!!!!!) and bought myself a pop and a candy.



While sitting there, these 2 old (REALLY old) gentlemen walked up to me and we started chewing the fat. They were like an encyclopedia of Central Louisiana history and it was quikly apparent that nobody pays much attention to them. I thought about taking our picture together, but it occurred to me that they might not appreciate it and think that I was making fun of them, so I packed my camera and went on my way.

Back on Hwy 126, I caught something in the corner of my eye in the distance.



I doubled back and holy crap, that is a zebra.



The more I continue East, the twistier the road gets. At the intersection of Hwy 501 and Hwy 126, the road turns into brand spanking new blacktop with NO gravel, tons of grip, and incredible curves. I drop a gear and let the big girl rip. What a hoot – this is by far the best road in the State I’ve found thus far. Sadly, it only lasted about 10 miles. Being the adventurer that I am – I turned around and tried it from the other way. Just as good!!!! I rode that stretch 3 times and pressed on.

Stage 4, Manifest, Louisiana to Lafayette, LA, approximately 140 miles.



Now getting well into mid-afternoon, I need to be thinking about heading South. I told the GPS “shortest route home” and off we went. I stopped to drink some water somewhere along the way.



And then I stopped on the Saline Bayou Hwy 115 Bridge. This place has some of the best crappie fishing in the world and I imagine the bite should be pretty darn good now.



One disadvantage of “shortest route” is the possibility that you might get led off the pavement. On this unnamed road, the pavement just ended. Since the GPS said only about 1.5 miles before a major highway, I took a chance and rode it slowly. I’m well off the beaten path here, man.



That was the last picture I took. I returned to the hated slab (I-49) about 45 miles from home. As I was merging onto the slab, a white escalade passed me doing about a buck-five (s/l is 75mph). This stretch of interstate is absolutely desolate, and with conditions right and my butt getting sore, I decided to let my Bird Dog drift ahead about 1/8 miles, raise my windscreen, and put the coal to the big girl!!! Needless to say, I got home a little bit faster than my text to wifey indicated…. bad Pants!

So there you have it. Louisiana is filled with all kinds of waterways. Big ones like the Gulf of Mexico and huge lakes. And little ones like the thousands of rivers and bayous just waiting to be explored.

Personally, I kind of liked Bayou Self.

Stay thirsty, my friends.

Fantastic write up!!

Thanks for sharing...

frankenfeejeer said:

Fantastic write up!!
Thanks for sharing...

Click to expand...

+1, Gunny; incredible Ride Report and Photographs, Thank You! jes' sayin' and nuff said1

Ah, yes. Bayou Self. Don't let it bother you that I was working all day. Do not let it trouble your conscience that I am working a minimum of 6 days a week and 11 hours a day. Don't give a second thought to the fact that my bike is only getting ridden to and from work.

By the way, I did appreciate the invitation. I whined about this often during my workday yesterday. At least you still had a good ride.

You are aware that the Bald Cypress is the official State Tree of Louisiana? Although the Live Oak is a big part of our culture as well, and arguably the better one to plant in your yard, the Bald Cypress is legally the state tree.

Another great RR 'pants, thanks for taking us along!

--G

Great RR and pictures, Thanks for sharing.

Your RR almost makes me want to suffer the long dry of all the flat states to see what the East has to offer.

Almost.

Thank you for sharing.

Great morning pick-me-up, super interesting, thanks for posting.

As always, thank you for reading my R/R.

R/H - I stand (and write) corrected. Obviously, I wasn't paying attention in Kindergarten when State features were discussed.

Lauren - it ain't that good, but it has moments. I'm lucky enough to have opportunities to tour other places of the country, but day trips in my backyard have to fill the gaps. I've learned to embrace the diversity and open my mind up to local adventures.

Actually, I forgot to thank you for posting this. Your pics and commentary were actually a bit better than usual, and they are usually quite wonderful. I enjoyed this one greatly.

I cannot help but feel some bitterness at having missed out on such a wonderful ride and such a wonderful day. Honestly, I am feeling lots of bitterness at having missed out. Again.

I find that since I started visiting other parts of this country on the bike I have a much greater appreciation for the sights and scenery of our home state. Seeing your pics and hearing your thoughts make "home" feel like someplace wonderful and exotic. Damn Well Done.

Everyone should feel this way. I know we all talk about it in one fashion or another, but what all motorcyclists (especially tourers IMO) crave is really a state of mind. Once I get into the groove, and allow myself to be enamored in my ride with all of my senses, then it doesn't matter as much where I am riding. Case in point was Monday at the Pothole Highway. When I came upon the horrible stretch of road, I continued for a hundred yards and then it became apparent that this wasn't going to end soon. My GPS gave me a choice between turning around (which I considered), but my curiosity picked the unknown 6 miles ahead to the next road change. When it was obvious that all 6 miles were going to be potholes, I turned it into a game of glorified parking lot practice, and really it started to get fun. Make Chicken Salad out of Chicken $hit.

Also, a word about my roll home on the interstate. My bike is incredible - I can seriously hold 100 mph standing straight up with very little (if any) vibration. Did it for at least 30 miles on Monday. As a safety professinoal, I've made no bones to anyone about the fact that I do NOT believe speed kills if it is applied in the correct context. This particular stretch of I-49 is desolate. Exits are 10-12 miles apart and only serve rural areas. The pavement is brand new and was poured by modern interstate standards - the tree line has to be at least 50 yards off the road. There are no billboards allowed. The road is completely straight - I can easily see 2 miles down the road in both directions at all times. On a Monday afternoon, with virtually no traffic, sitting on a well maintained bike with good tires, on a beautiful dry day with a Bird Dog to boot - Pants is going to let it rip and 100 mph felt about right on Monday. No two ways about it. Now -you may call that dangerous, and if you do, I won't argue with you.

hppants and Redfish Hunter: When are you two Coonasses going to stop jawboning and start posting up the FJR Forum Mardi Gras 2015 Ride Event dammit!

Inquiring minds want to know, eh! jes' sayin' and nuff said, ese!

Hppants is one baaad dude!

I relish rr's containing valuable learning experiences.

Well done, 'Pants!

dcarver said:

Hppants is one baaad dude! I relish rr's containing valuable learning experiences. Well done, 'Pants!

Click to expand...

And following him is always a humbling experience!

Of course I am pretty slow...

Awesome report, Pants! Enjoyed it!

Thanks for sharing! Great RR!

I love seeing RRs from other parts of the country.

Great history lesson about that state and the pics were great. As for the R C Cola yes I have bought it for 0.12 cents in a glass bottle just like yours in the pic for a 12ounce bottle if you drank it there. There being a little town in California call Elmira about 40 miles south west of Sacramento Ca.

What wonderful photos and landscapes!!!

Excellent report & pictures!!!Thanks