Day #12 - 3/24/2011 - Baton Rouge, LA to Ville Platte, LA - 70 miles

It was 70 miles of increasingly rural Louisiana that took us from Baton Rouge to Ville Platte.  Here is how we went.


After spending a memorable evening with Cathy Crutchfield, a PA student I worked with in 2005, husband André and son Jonah, André again loaded up the truck with our bikes early in the morning and hauled us a few miles out of Baton Rouge, on the other side of a hostile bridge with no bike lanes, easing our escape from the cyclist-Hell that is Baton Rouge.  

Outside of Baton Rouge, it was 10-15 miles from town-to-town.  The scenery was unspectacular, but, at least, the shoulders were wide, though often too bumpy. 

Somewhere near Livonia, LA, population 1339.

Compared to the previous day when we were tortured from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, the road past Baton Rouge was pretty comfortable: wide shoulders with little traffic.  Why no traffic?  Because there isn't a whole heckuva lot past Baton Rouge.  We began to notice that road and shoulder conditions often changed dramatically when you crossed a county line. 

Rural Louisiana with sparse traffic and wide shoulders.  We found that shoulders would often change in quality as you crossed a county line.

Outside of anything that might qualify as an urban center, the entire cycling experience changes. Rather than worry about traffic intersections, distracted drivers and whether to use the sidewalk or chance the surface streets sans bike lane, you are free to enjoy the landscape (weather permitting of course and, so far, the weather has been generous.)  Well past Baton Rouge, I was enjoying the open space and lack of cars.

In triumph, Lani passes through.

On a like trip like this, you have the opportunity to count many things.  You can chose to count cars, as did Simon and Garfunkel:

• "Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
  I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
  Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
  They've all gone to look for America
  All gone to look for America

Or, you can count only blue cars, as did Dishwalla.  Lani counts many things, including churches and roadkills.  Yes...I know...a bit morbid, but...well, I offer neither explanation nor apology.  I had actually toyed with the idea of photographing each roadkill, but it became clear that this would have been übermorbid as well as severely-to-profoundly twisted.  Still, when we came across Bambi smack dab in the middle of our way, it was difficult to ignore...you can skip a couple of pictures if you like. 

An impact like this can really mess up a car, not to mention what it did to Bambi.  It's estimated that 350,000 deer die annually from car collisions.

Roadkill or "flat meats" became a common sight in the early 20th century as the automobile took over the roads.  Roadkill can be eaten, and there are several recipe books dedicated to roadkill.    Advantages of the roadkill diet, apart from its low cost, are that the animals that roadkill scavengers eat are naturally high in vitamins and proteins with lean meat and little saturated fat, and generally free of additives and drugs. 

 Roadkill are usually cooked "well-done" for what should be obvious reasons.. 

It's estimated that 40 million squirrels end up as flat-meat.  But, it's the 350,000 deer that are most likely to cause vehicle damage.  

It was getting ridiculous, springing up like wildflowers, they were.  This one was just a few feet from the side of the road.

All I can tell you is that when you're biking the shoulders, the roadkill rapidly become TNTC (too numerous to count).  Well, that's not quite true as Lani counted most of them, ignoring those where she couldn't identify the precise animal, or if it had turned to leather.  She average about 15 roadkills a day.  After this, I'll only take one more roadkill photo...I promise..I'm waiting for a dead skunk in the middle of the road, stinking to high heaven.

Crossing through small towns and such, you see a lot of signs that just don't make much sense.

It turns out that there is a body of knowledge on "False River", an ox-bow shaped lake that's not really a river, though, from the air, sorta looks like one.  This lake was once the main channel of the Mississippi River in this area. It was cut off from the "mighty Mississippi" in about 1722 when seasonal flooding cut a shorter channel to the east.  It's a popular local area for fishing and hunting.  Who knew?

There were innumerable road-side stands plying the local cuisine.  Cajun cracklins  were real popular, which is fried pig skin.  This produces a delightful combination of nearly pure fat with a healthy dose of salt.  As hungry as we became on the road, we were never quite hungry enough to indulge.

After a pig is rendered for lard, you are left with the pig hide.  Might as well do something with it...like fry it and eat it.

 We passed miles upon miles of farmland, someone of them with working oil rigs.

The reciprocating nature of the oil pump was nearly hypnotic.  Nearly . We biked on.

Local cuisine appeared at gas station/mini-marts.  Boudin balls (pronounced boo-dan) were popular.

Boudin balls are pork sausage and dirty rice, rolled into a ball and fried.  Come and get your boudin balls here in Krotz Springs, population 1219.

The miles and miles we covered were punctuated with clusters of mobile and manufactured homes.  Some of them were nicely situated.

Scenic view of the waterway

Smoke shops were popular around here, just tiny little buildings with a single purpose.  This one was a drive thru with a drive-up window on the left side of the building.

The drive-up window made it easy to buy your smokes without leaving the comfort of your car, while smoking.

Most of the small towns, at least those that weren't too small, had a proud sign at its border, announcing where you had just arrived and what it was famous for.   Opelousas, population 22860 and founded in 1720, is the 3rd oldest city in Louisiana.  The sign welcoming us had  friendly and royal quality.  Zydeco, a unique form of American folk music, has its roots in Opelousas.

Opelousas, home to the Spice Music Festival, was founded in 1720 and is Louisiana's 3rd oldest city.  It is home to the spice company Tony Chachere, maker of that painfully annoying TV commercial.

Something that I found unique to Louisiana in virtually ever town was how they handled their cemeteries: public, proud, almost as if on display and, because of the high water table and tendency to flood, above ground.

The Opelousas cemetery

Opelousas has a number of annual festivals, including the Yambilee Festival, Original Southwest Louisiana Zydeco Festival, Frank's Downtown Gumbo Cook, International Joke Telling Contest, Zydeco Extravaganza, Juneteenth Festival, Holy Ghost Creole Festival, Christmas Lighting of Le Vieux Village, Here's the Beef Cook-off, Frank's Mardi Gras Parade, and the Opelousas Mardi Gras Celebration/Street Dance on Court St..



We turned Northwest from Opelousas towards Ville Platt, our destination for the day, passing miles more of rural highway.

"...looking at the road rushing under my wheels..."

 I found the small cemeteries in the small towns to be iconic.

The many memorial parks were all well-kept and well-flowered.

Acres and acres of fields were covered in wild flowers.

I liked the way the brilliant yellows caught the sun.

Why did we stop at Ville Platte, population 8145 and whose name is French for "flat town"?  Because it's the self-proclaimed Smoked Meat Capital of the World?  Because it's the self-proclaimed Swamp Pop Music Capital of the World?  Neither...nor.  We stopped here because it was the only town that was about 70 miles from Baton Rouge (our comfortable biking range for the day) that had a decent hotel.

Much to be proud of here in Ville Platte.

Ready for dinner, we walked across the street from our hotel to the gas station/grocery store to see what sort of wondrous smoked meats they had.  And, what they had came in 5-10 pound slabs, so we opted for a small ribeye steak.

Browning the ribeye steak over the butane burner before finishing the cooking in the microwave.  I think this sort of thing is encouraged in all motels.

Like Opelousas, Ville Platte is one of the birthplaces of the Afro-creole Zydeco music that has become one of the signatures of Louisiana culture throughout the world.

We fought tooth and nail for time with the netbook.

After dinner, some email, some blogging, some webcam time  with the family back in Gainesville, our evening in Ville Platte came to a quiet end.