Day 275
Riding the levee
We were excited to leave New Orleans and to join the Mississippi River Trail. We would be riding just a small fraction of its 3,000 miles but we knew we would be cycling on the levee, a new experience for us. We spotted an organic French bakery, so stopped to treat ourselves to our first really good baguette since arriving in the USA, I may have bought a cake or two, well it would be rude not to!
Whilst I shopped Tom got chatting to a local character, Giovanni Feather. Originally from Italy, he had lived in the States most of his life. He rode with us for a mile or so, telling us about his life and travels in America. A brilliant start to our day.
The levee was fantastic, we had a tarmac surface and it stayed that way most of the day. We passed many industrial areas, which may put people off riding this route but though not beautiful they were fascinating to see, and created an interesting backdrop. At one point, a side tributary had been dammed, so we rode below the water level. This was a freaky un-nerving experience to say the least, especially at sections where water flowed through the dam and flooded the road. We briefly lingered to chat to a fisherman, who was scooping fish up in a net, apparently they are used as a bait for crabs. Then we were up back on the levee feeling safe again.
We had yet another big bridge to cross, Ali S this area of the States is not for you girl! Up to this point the wind had been behind us, but as we turned to ride over the Mississippi on the Gramercy Bridge, the wind was waiting, blowing straight and powerfully into our faces. The bridge was built in 1976, one of many built to replace the ferry system in part due to a particular tragic incident. An inebriated pilot crashed the ferry into a ship, resulting in the loss of 78 lives. At just over 3,000 feet in length it was far from our longest bridge crossing but boy was it hard work. A few miles later as we shopped for water, a guy commented that he had seen us struggle across it, he was impressed with our efforts, so were we!
At nearly 60 miles we decided to look for somewhere to camp. We hadn’t seen any churches or manned fire stations to ask if we could camp on their land, so when we spotted a great spot just beside the levee, far enough away from the river to be dry but out of sight of the road we decided that this would be our first wild camp spot in the States. Pretty wonderful it was too.
Tom realised we were close to one of the old slave plantation houses, so popped along to get some photos. Oak Alley was a sugar plantation, housing an average 110 to 120 slaves at any one time. The records kept of the slaves give little detail, merely recording them as property, a horrifying statement. Some details provide more information, such as Thomas, he was Mandrinka, an ethnic group from West Africa, or names, brothers Albert and Cary Jones were American negros, and Hyacinthe, was a Creole, meaning born in Louisiana. One of the slaves, a gardener, Antoine, was the first to successfully graft pecan trees. The place to me looked dark, grim, almost haunted. The oak trees that lined the drive appeared wizened and weary. The house is now a museum, closed so we didn’t get to visit. It was very unsettling to look at that place, so I am glad the levee hid it from view. The river with it’s traffic of ships was a much better backdrop to our campsite.
