The Big Easy

You can't see 'em but there's gators in that picture

Another easy day riding through lush green forest and farmland. We saw our first alligators; slow moving logs with just the two eyes to give them away. We rode between fields of tall sugar cane and were frequently passed by trucks carrying the canes, flooding the air with sweet molasses smells.

We crossed the Mississippi River by ferry at around 12:30. The water was anxious, running high and muddy, like it needed to purge itself of dark secrets, too many even for its legendary volume. A mile on from the ferry we entered the town of St Francisville, famed for its beautiful antebellum (pre-war) homes. Each house a testament to the families who had such an iron-fisted grip on social order that when it finally exploded it sprayed its detritus across 150 years of history. The Mississippi silently presiding.

14 below in New Orleans (elevation in feet that is)

The group going to New Orleans (pron. Naw-lins) jumped in the van that leader Dave had rented for us and set off down the freeway. Significant distances of road were really bridges over huge expanses of swamp. We parked our stuff at an old hostel just off St Charles and jumped on a trolley to ... "Cooter Brown's, next stop ya'll" ... 300 kinds of beer, 50 on tap. We started at the top with the local Abita Amber, not a bad start...

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We lost another rider today. Last night he had cooked us the most excellent gumbo, this morning he woke up having problems with his eye. He found an optometrist a little off the route, discovered he had a detached retina and was in surgery shortly thereafter. Ouch.

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