STORIES FROM THE ROAD: Dead dogs lyin in Louisiana and the road to Texas (pre-Austin)

Being on any road in the south (pronounced souf) you might encounter a dead dog lyin' with his guts all spilled, oozing maggots out of what's left of his intestine.

Armadillos too for that matter, stupid creatures which don't have sense enough to get from out the path of a moving vehicle.


You will also encounter more litter then even really seems probable and if you're these two travellers you might encounter even stranger sights; like a french Canadian cyclist riding the wrong way on a two lane highway trying to find his tent.


Mark was from Montreal and touring by his loneseome headed west (like all good Canadian geese)when he shockingly discovered he had been without his Tent for sometime now.
He had been riding against traffic for five miles and was determined -despite the dimming light from the sun- to retrace his steps all the way back to Baton Rouge if he had to.


"take our number"
We said,
"Call us when your headed back this way, or if you can't find your tent, we'll help you out. "
He never called, jerk. Bon Voyage Marc.


Where's the best place to find three Canadian cyclists during winter?
On a roadside in Louisiana of course.

Onwards and upwards we discovered the many and rarely differing diners of the rural south.
White gravy, chicken-fried steak, beef tips, dirty rice and the saddest strangest little waitress' you ever did see.

Charlene removed herself twice from view of customers to vomit in the bathroom and cried severel times while speaking on her cell phone around the corner. *sigh

She also brought incorrect food for the other table twice, and would not let us nar.


We camped in a somewhat disagreeable town on a more or less agreeable plot of land owned by someone named Ray; rented the space out to mobile home owners.


It was in the morning that we awoke to a strange little dog, and an even stranger owner promising us breakfast from her mobile home kitchen.

"no, it's okay. My husband tole me to cook y'all breakfast so I'm gonna make y'all some biscuits and gravy" 

More accurately we ate, Pillsbury toaster oven biscuits and Louisiana fig jam making the list of strangest yet oddly comforting breakfast food.

Ray and his wife drove us down the road another few clicks and Sam talked to them about french Acadian and Creole culture.
Ray Bajou, had a healthy Cajun ancestorage with Acadian relatives in Nova Scotia.
Thanks y'all for everything.


When I leave this place I will remember the cool piney breeze, the hot sweet smell, and people who are sad and sweet, like the smell of a dead dog on a highway.