Tipitina's

I’m finally leaving New Orleans… the Crescent City welcomed me and wouldn’t let me leave.

I arrived in New Orleans in time to make it to the House of Blues only to find out that Babalu’s was NOT a band but the name of Latin music dance night… not my scene. I don’t know if that little boy in Belle Chasse was ‘yanking my chain’ or if he was really clueless. I tend to believe the former, because everyone in New Orleans’ orbit knows the local music scene.

After the disappointment of Babalu night, I decided to stick around the Quarter for a while and sample the famous Creole food. Cafe Mesparo has some of the best sandwiches and the oyster po-boy (fried oysters on a French bread) was no exception.

The next morning I walked around the French Market checking out the fresh produce. The French Market has been around since 1791 and began as a Native American trading post. It is America’s oldest city market.

I bumped into some old friends in the quarter and was told that the Dirty Dozen Brass Band* was launching a new CD called ‘What’s Going On?’, a reinterpretation of Marvin Gaye's classic LP at Tipitina’s Saturday night. I had no choice but to stick around for that.

Well… it was worth postponing my walk. The Dirty Dozen Brass Band put on a great show to a packed house. They announced that a portion of the proceeds from the sale of each CD will go to the Tipitina’s Foundation, benefiting the music community of New Orleans. Along with many others along the Gulf Coast, the members of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band lost their homes to Katrina. Their take on What's Going On is not only an attempt to express their feelings about this tragedy and other current events, but also a tribute to the spirit of their hometown of New Orleans.

So now it’s Monday morning and I find myself a little heavier (gonna miss the food) and slower of foot. I’m on the western fringe of New Orleans following the meandering, muddy river towards Baton Rouge. The stretch of River Road leading to the state capital is lined with refineries and industry. I’m not looking forward to my next 100 miles, but I should be losing my newly found poundage…

* In 1977, the Dirty Dozen Social and Pleasure Club in New Orleans began showcasing a traditional Crescent City brass band. It was a joining of two proud, but antiquated, traditions at the time: social and pleasure clubs dated back over a century to a time when black southerners could rarely afford life insurance, and the clubs would provide proper funeral arrangements. Brass bands, early predecessors of jazz as we know it, would often follow the funeral procession playing somber dirges, then once the family of the deceased was out of earshot, burst into jubilant dance tunes as casual onlookers danced in the streets. By the late '70s, few of either existed. The Dirty Dozen Social and Pleasure Club decided to assemble this group as a house band, and over the course of these early gigs, the seven-member ensemble adopted the venue's name: the Dirty Dozen Brass Band.

Belle Chasse... Babalu!!

18 August 2006

Well, I’ve finally made it to the Westbank of the Crescent City. I’m in Belle Chasse, LA at the corner of the Belle Chasse Highway and Woodland Highway. For the first time I have finally come to a couple of ‘forks’ in the road and had to make directional decisions.

I passed by the Alvin Callender Airfield. It was relatively quiet. There was more noise from the traffic on the Belle Chasse Highway than from the aircraft. A gas station attendant told me that the airfield was first cleared in the late 1920s for a nationwide tour by Charles Lindberg and was used extensively by rescue helicopters in the aftermath of the flooding by Hurricane Katrina.

After passing by the airfield I had to decide whether to cross the railroad tracks and continue my journey along Rd 407 following as close to the river as possible or continue my walk by a more direct route to New Orleans by staying on the Belle Chasse Highway. The decision was made for me at the junction where a little boy told me, “you can walk ‘long the Main Street, but’cha wont get to New Awlins quicker that way. The Coast Guard got a reservation down there and it’s a long walk round the river wit nuthin to see. Shoots, if I was you I’d head straight for the quarter. Babalu’s playing at the House of Blues and they a jammin good band”.

So I now find myself heading north on Woodland Highway. I should be in Gretna by tomorrow where I’ll take a ferry across the river to the French Quarter and make my way to the House of Blues… hopefully in time for Babalu’s first set.

Brian

Crabbing my Way North

13 August 2005


I spent time this week helping Uncle Noonoo, an old man I met at a small store along LA23. Noonoo crabs for a living. It's a job that earns him enough money to buy food and drink for himself and diesel for his boat with a little left over for a few games of bouree' (see below for rules of play) at 'The Dump', the local bar where all the fishermen hang out and play cards. Every morning we'd wake up at 5:00 and head out to Two Sisters Bayou just off of Bay Sanbois. Crabs are caught in wire cages (see photo) that are baited with chicken or pig parts. The cages are set along the bottom of the bayou and are marked with red painted Clorox jugs floating on the surface of the bayou. Every morning I'd raise the cages, empty out the crabs (not an easy task cause their claws will grip each other and the cage), re-bait the traps and toss them back into the Bayou. For my help Uncle Noonoo gave me a place to sleep in his camp (see photo) just outside of Port Sulphur and enough spending money to head back out on the road.


I left Uncle Noonoo Saturday morning and headed north along the river on LA23. I walked past the West Pointe a La Hache Ferry landing and considered crossing the river and heading into New Orleans from the East Bank. But decided to stay with LA23 and head into New Orleans from the West Bank so that I could walk through Old Algiers and see the house my friend JP used to live in. He now lives in Texas after being chased away by Katrina last year. The house is now for sale and I thought it would be nice to see the old neighborhood again. From there I can cross the river by ferry (No way am I walking over the Greater New Orleans Bridge) and be just on the outskirts of the French Quarter.

I should be reaching New Orleans by next weekend. I can already taste the beignets and rich chicory coffee. It will be such a relief to finish this southern trek along the river. To my right I can see the levee and boats in the river. To my left I see old homes, camps, and marshlands. It's still quiet on the bayous south of New Orleans in Plaquemines Parish and I long for meeting more people.

Brian, still heading north on LA23



Bouree':
1. Put up your "mease" (Ante up) We usually played 5 cents ante and 25 cents if you are boureed (don't win a hand).
2. Dealers hands out 5 cards to each player. (if you have 5 or less players a Widow can be dealt. This is an extra hand that can be bought by one of the players.)
3. The dealer turns over his 5th card. This is trump for the game. (if dealer turns over a heart, hearts are trump, if a club is turned over, club is trump, etc.)
4. Each player will decide if they want to stay in or pass. (You must have at least one trump to stay in.) The player to the dealer's left will tell how many cards he/she wants (if he/she has no trumps, then the widow can be bought...this is optional)
5. Each player tells the dealer how many cards they want. When a card is played, you must follow suit. If you don't have one of whatever is played, you can play a trump card or any other card.
6. At the end of play, the one who wins the most hands(tricks) wins and takes the pot. If you fail to win a hand(trick), you must pay 25 cents bouree'. (This goes in the next pot)

End of First Week - Oppressive Heat

Well, I’m just over 32 miles into my journey. The weather has been really oppressive with temperatures in the high 90’s and equal the humidity.

I had a rude awakening at the end of my first day. It seems that when I jumped off the paddleboat Cajun Queen, I lost my pouch containing my travel funds. So now I’m at the beginning of a long journey and find myself with no money. I see no other option: I will have to work my way up river. So now I have to seek out odd jobs along the way during the weekdays and save the bulk of my walking for the weekends. This will slow me down considerably but will not thwart my goal of reaching Minnesota and the head of the Mississippi River.

Yesterday I was able to put in just over 11 miles before succumbing to the heat. The walk left me with a slight headache and sore legs. I’ll need to start carrying more water with me.


After my walk yesterday, I stepped into a bait shop to get water and saw on the wall, next to a bunch of pictures of fishermen with their prized catches of tarpons, blue marlins and sharks, a photo of a couple of boats sitting on LA 23 right after Hurricane Katrina passed through. Unbelievable!!! I just walked over that bridge shown in the picture after passing through Empire, LA.





**** Reality Check ****

Yesterday I walked in the jungle near my home and saw the biggest pack of monkeys to date. Must have been over 50. There were even a couple of new-born monkeys clinging to their mother. I doubt they were more than a couple of weeks old. I also saw a cobra on the trail and scared it off before getting closer. I learned my lessons about approaching snakes. On one walk I found what I thought was a small dead snake and was going to pick it up. Turns out it wasn’t dead. Also, as I later learned, it was a Krait, more deadly than a cobra. Overall, I had a great walk, but the heat proved to be too much and finished it with a slight headache and sore legs.

Brian

Making My Walks Meaningful... In A Virtual Sense

I've got a problem staying motivated when it comes to daily walking. After a while I get bored. This time around I decided to set a goal. I'm going to walk from the mouth of the Mississippi River to the river's beginning in Minnesota. I've found some web sites to help me with this virtual walk and I'll use Google's pedometer mapping function to record my daily progress along the river. I'll do a bit of research through each place I visit to keep it 'real'.

Mississippi River Road Walk Pt 1

PREFACE TO MY JOURNEY

I’m sitting on the upper deck of the riverboat Cajun Queen languidly swatting mosquitoes and fanning myself in this 96 degree August afternoon. It’s just like me to start a journey in the hottest month in Louisiana with little preparation. A sucker for pain. That’s what I am. Or, just plain dumb.

The Cajun Queen is about 30 miles south of Buras slowly chugging up river in the Southwest Pass. I’ll be jumping boat around nightfall and looking for a place to ‘hole’ up for the night before embarking on this trip. I’ll be heading north on LA23, about a 2-day walk south of Buras.

The captain of this paddleboat told me that the river is 2,350 miles long, although I know that I’ll be walking more than that ‘cause the river road doesn’t always follow the river. And, more than likely, I’ll get lost or take a few side-trips along the way. I do have a tendency to wander off the path now and then.

Well, I’d better start wrapping my backpack in the garbage bag I took from the boat’s café and prepare myself for the short swim to shore. I can just see the small camps and shipyards that are clustered around the southern tip of LA23. I tell you, the river water here looks like the coffee-au-lait I’ll be savoring in a few weeks while in the New Orleans French Quarter. Here at the mouth of this great river, I’m not sure if I’ll be swimming or wallowing to the banks of the river. The water looks like a river of mud.

Oh well, guess it’s time to get wet…

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3 August 2006
5.7 miles – North of Venice, LA on LA23

Can't chat too long now. I'm currently walking through a desolate stretch of road between Venice and Buras. I'm trying to get as far north as possible before Tropical Storm Chris enters the Gulf. Not only do I start this walk in the hottest month, I start it at the beginning of hurricane season. I'm praying that Chris fizzles out and leaves us all down here in peace.

In fact, as I drudge along LA23, the signs of Katrina's passing last year are remarkable. Venice was almost completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina and the town's future is currently uncertain. I can tell that there was a thriving community lining LA23. A Community wedged between the River and swamps of the Gulf. But now all I see is empty foundations and pilings jutting out of the bare earth.

It's hot right now. No breeze. The air is heavy, weighted with salt and gases from the marsh. Will talk later. With my Treo, I'll be able to report from the road easily.

Brian