Woke up this morning and spent a little time with my friends Tom and Judi before setting sail
again. They were scheduled to relocate from Nashville the same week hurricane Katrina
hit (late Aug 2005). The new home they had just finished building suffered very minimal
damage though all of their belongings that were in storage nearby were a complete loss. Judi
makes stained glass and paints by profession and all of her personal pieces were in the
storage catastrophe.
It was very interesting to hear directly from residents what life is like in a post-Katrina community.
Anyway, Judi is currently working on her next painting. Her son took a photo of a sea
turtle while scuba diving and that has become her next project. Here's the photo she
is using and beside it is her canvas and the beginning sketches:
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Pretty amazing, huh? Here are two other paintings she has done:
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My best to Tom and Judi!! Thanks for the hospitality and the garage space!
I left Ocean Springs this Wednesday morning in a drizzling rain, 63 degrees, and with an
intended dinner destination of Houston, TX where I'd be staying with another family
friend. The mileage point to point is about 420 miles, but the "AGirl route" ended
up being 547 miles and here's why….…
The rain I hit leaving Ocean Springs was an unexpected storm that just popped up fooling
weather prognosticators but not dampening the spirit of new FJR owners, at least not this
one. My first detour was, would you believe, for a stamp. Yesterday I saw on my GPS
that a stamp was located less than 5 miles from Tom and Judi's. Given this is the
same GPS that last week routed me to West Africa, I was a bit leary. But, alas, Tom
and Judi confirmed the National Park's location just down the road:
The Gulf Islands National Seashore actually runs along both Florida and Mississippi so
both states have Visitor Centers (VC) and, of course, National Park Passport stamps…
woo-hoo! Actually, it would be more accurate to say that both states had Visitor
Centers; the VC in MS was whacked by Katrina. The current VC is a FEMA trailer
where you can tell the staff is trying to make the best of the situation. It was
very inspiring to me to see efforts of people trying to rise from ruin.
I saw parts of the closed campground while riding back to the VC, er trailer, and there
is really just no way to describe the site of all the trees that were down and piled
everywhere. As I rode I thought about how loss, though sometimes painful and
difficult, can be a tremendous opportunity for growth. It seems when the focus is
placed on going forward rather than on what occurred in the past than real recovery is
possible. This goes for any loss in life. There are people who identify as
victims and people who identify as survivors. Personally I believe a third
type - the fighter - is the one who not only rises from a fall but does so with a renewed
focus to do, to be, to live that which is important to them. To me, it's not about
falling down (victim) or getting up (survivor), it's what you DO after you get up
(fighter). It was not difficult to see the eyes of other fighters as I passed through
this region today.
My next stop was a National Wildlife Refuge (NWR), specifically the Big Branch Marsh NWR,
which was near Lacombe, LA, just west of Slidell, LA off I-12 and Hwy 434. During
the rainy 100 miles from Ocean Springs to the NWR I tried to process all the vegetation
destruction that Katrina left behind. These thoughts were frequently interrupted
with images of the racist graffiti and the young boy yesterday. We live in our on
small, private community and go about our daily routines completely unaware of what
life is like for people elsewhere. Familiarity is built within our individual
routines and it's easy to get absorbed in your own life, your own issues.
I find traveling offers an opportunity to challenge stagnant thinking and biases, and,
consequentially, examine core values and priorities. This tends to happen when you
get out of your community, er comfort zone, and what better way to do this than on a
motorcycle where you're actually a part of the world (including 16 degrees) and not
just passing through inside a convenient temperature controlled vehicle or plane or
cruise ship. Travelers on a "trip" seem to be the ones who "want to get away from
it all", who seek an escape FROM some life they will ultimately return to and do so with
the same attitude and priorities that got them to the "escape" part in the first
place. A journey isn't about an escape FROM rather it's about being ever-present
and available TO what is all around you and who you become along the way. Those on
trips have beginning and end dates. A journey has no finish line. The
motorcycle might be parked in the garage but there is no doubt the experiences continue
to influence and shape thoughts, priorities, decisions, and the journey itself. During
the ride to Big Branch NWR I think my brain's rpm's were higher than FJR's, and that 100
miles was very spirited.
I made it to the entrance of Big Branch Marsh NWR but the road leading into the Refuge
looked to also be a victim of Katrina as it was mostly dirt and rocks, gravel, and, due
to the rain, mud.
There were standing pools of water and I couldn't tell just how deep the pools were and
if perhaps the grassy area would be slicker than snot. So, I decided to turn the
bike around, get the photo of the sign, then reevaluate the situation:
The only conclusion I came to was, new bike or not, rain and mud or not, I’M GETTING THAT
DANG STAMP!!
(yes, Stamping is an addiction!) Well, let's just say that I was handsomely rewarded
for taking a risk!!
I arrived at the Visitor Center (the road wasn't that bad) to several folks who were
"damn impressed" that I was riding on this rainy day, down the refuge's road less traveled,
and solo to Arizona. I was impressed with the fact I was presented with a gold mine
of stamps - 6 total - from the various surrounding refuges! Booo-yeah!
They said given the NWR's were not yet accessible to the public since Katrina that those
stamps were being stored at Big Branch. Here's the refuge lady with all the stamps
and my Passport book on the counter:
Feeling victorious and recharged, I headed back out and towards the next stamp, the Jean
Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve, which offers the history of the Acadian
(Cajun) people who settled this region, their culture. There are actually five
different Jean Lafitte locations (all with unique Passport stamps) located in southern LA
(of course, the state, not the city) and my plan was to visit two of them. During my
ride through "Sportsman's Paradise" (the state nickname of LA) traffic was steady but bogged
at times not only what from I assumed was post-Fat Tuesday revelers but also from the
numerous "wide load" trucks that were transporting, to no surprise, houses. In all my
miles riding I'd never seen so many houses being moved, not together in a line, but
individual carriers. By the time I arrived the Jean Lafitte Acadian Cultural Center in
Lafayette, LA the rain had stopped and the bright, warm sun was most welcomed:
Good thing I wasn't trying to collect stamps in the state of LA yesterday since Fat Tuesday
(Mardi Gras) is an official holiday and everyone takes the day off, including Federal Park
employees, to join the party.
I got the stamp but spent most of my time in the parking lot talking with two college boys who
had decided to outfit a pickup truck with a camper shell and hit the road "to see the country."
They had been on the road for 5 weeks and I asked if they were learning more about the country or
themselves and one replied "I thought this trip was going to be about what's out there but I'm
realizing it's really about me." I wished them well on their journey and proceeded to
Eunice, LA and the Jean Lafitte Prairie Acadian Cultural Center for another stamp.
I walked into the Visitor Center and was greeted with some funky expression I had never heard
nor could I repeat much less recall. Here's the Cajun who emitted the expression as she
held a "What is a Cajun?" brochure:
No, she is not deranged nor is that black ink on her forehead.
Since yesterday was Fat Tuesday that means today is Ash Wednesday and the first day of
Lent, which also means if you are Catholic then you head down to the local parish so the
priest can smudge an ash cross on your forehead (ashes to ashes, dust to dust thing I'm
guessing?). I know several of my West Coast friends will be in a confused stupor
at this point so I'll provide THIS LINK.
All of the Jean Lafitte centers are dedicated to the Cajun people and their culture. Smudge
lady said Cajuns arrived in late 1700's, were mostly small farmers and craftspeople who settled
in the bayou country with their quaint dialect. I said they have some damn good food and
where can I find some since I was starving?!
She advised me that being today was Lent, meaning Catholics abstain from meat, that I'd be hard
pressed to find anything but chicken.
I was really looking forward to some special Cajun BBQ or something, but instead I had to settle
on a sandwhich.
That's ok, at least I got my stamps!!
While riding the back roads and searching for my sandwhich I stopped to take a photo of an above
ground graveyard, something rarely seen in most sections of the country:
I beelined to Houston, TX from there and made it to my friend's, where I was treated to, would you
believe it, some of the best pork BBQ I've had in a while! I did stop and take a photo at the
state line of the "Lone Star" state. Many long distance riders would vote this as being one of
the worst signs on the open road:
Ok, so for those who don't understand here's the deal. Exit 880 means there are 880 miles
to travel through the Texas flat nothingess (ugh, the longest distance of any state). In
every state except CT, DE, MA, NH, NY, RI, and VT (who still have sequential exit numbers) exits
are numbered based on mileage from state line to state line. As you go from West to East
and from South to North the numbers increase. Therefore, exit numbers on the western and
southern sections will be single digit and the larger numbers will be in the eastern and northern
sections. For example, if someone lived off Exit 114 of I-10 in Texas I'd know they lived
114 miles east of the TX/NM state line. See, now you can impress your friends!
AGirl
Today's total: 547 miles, 9 stamps
