Carl’s perfect record of always dealing with rain in Louisiana was destroyed today; we awoke to the bluest of skies with nary a cloud. The rain of the past two days has been pushed away by a brusque northerly; winds up to 25 mph buffeted us all day as we pushed northeast. The faring (windshield) on my recumbent bike acts like a sail when I have a tail wind, and actually breaks the wind when I have a head wind. But when I fight vigorous cross winds, it is all I can do to avoid being pushed off the road. In the California Mountains I had the same experience with almost 40 mph winds threatening to blow me over the precipice and called for Vanna. Today I hung in there. The worst fate I could meet was being submerged in a rice paddy.
Yes, we are in rice country. As a former farmer I am fascinated to see different crops, and I have never before had a chance to study rice growing practices. I must confess that the Louisiana farmers have me puzzled. When we were in Texas, the cotton crop was mature and being harvested. Here in Louisiana I can find no pattern. Some fields are full of rice waiting to be harvested. Others are plowed under and dry. Still others have been flooded, some of these have rice shoots jutting above the water, and others do not. Maybe rice growing is a never ending cycle. I will try to find out from a local.
Speaking of locals, Curt found another home town café in Oberlin, LA that is the hang out of all the local hunters. Apparently they all emerge from the woods around lunch time to chow down at the local eateries and swap yarns. You know: “Y’all shoulda seen the eight point buck that got away. I think I winged him though. I’m takin the dogs out later and lookin for buzzards circling where he mighta fell. At least I can get the rack.”
The same hunter who related this story told us how to get from Oberlin to Mamou: “Well ya’ll go thru town, stay on the main road for sumpin like aight miles, then turn left at the rice bins. Y’all can’t miss it.” I didn’t want to appear like a complete idiot, so I didn’t tell him that I had no idea what a rice bin looked like. Turns out they are identical to the round corrugated galvanized bins used to hold corn we have in Ohio.
We are taking a break from the usual ½ star motel that has been our staple. We are staying in the Hotel Cazan, a National Register downtown hotel that anchors the just barely hanging on classic main street of Mamou. As far as I can tell, we are the only guests. Once we checked in, the desk clerk left for the day, giving us the security code for the hotel’s front door, which stays locked. He told us to put our bikes in the hotel lobby for safekeeping, as nobody would disturb them. The rooms have all been renovated, and have quite nice furnishings. But there is no such thing as internet, only one electrical plug and one ceiling light per room (no lamps at all). Carls’ room doesn’t even have a window. Curt and I, on the other hand, have six. Once I finish this blog I am looking for a wireless hotspot to send it. It is probably too bad that we are all so dependent on our electricity and internet driven devices.
Down the street from the Hotel Cazan is
Frenchies, a genuinely Cajun restaurant, where we will dine after we attend the pep rally for the Demons, the local High School team. The pep rally is next to our hotel. We can hear the marching band warming up. As Mamou is the self proclaimed
Cajun Music Capital of the worldwe are interested to hear this band.
Fianlly, today we passed 2000 miles on our trip. Amazing. Only 1000 + to go! To see our route thuis far, open this link in your browser:
http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/950128891005576265
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