We're South of Baton Rouge tonight at a truck stop on highway 30. Unfortunately we haven't had much luck finding scenic sleeping spots here in the South, as much of the land is private or inaccesible. There's a nasty winter storm coming through here and it's been a cold the last few days. Tonight it's 30 degrees and falling.
We stayed with one of Dave's friends from back home in Port Lavaca, Texas for New Years. Port Lavaca and the surrounding area is entirely dedicated to refineries and other massive industrial complexes. While driving at night they appear out of the darkness as sinister islands of steam and orange light, like a hundred modern Mordors. In the daylight they are incomprehensible tangles of steel pipe that wrap around huge cylindrical holding tanks. Everyone who lives here is in some way an employee of the refining company. Dave's friend works for a company that handles boxite, one of the raw materials that will become aluminum. The other plants handle plastics, oil, and other such toxic yet necessary evils. He told us a little about the dangers of the process, how you might notice a drop of liquid fall on you and think nothing of it, and later in the day find a searing chemical burn where it contacted your skin. Despite the dangers, the pay is good and the work necessary.
It rained lightly for a while, and we sat inside talking. Dave's friend is no fan of Texas and he filled us in on the many forms of discomfort inflicted upon it's residents. Aside from the constant tortures of fire ants, no-see-ums, poisonous snakes, scorpions, wild hogs, and vast multitudes of mosquitos there are tornados, hurricanes, exhausting humid heat and freezing ice storms. Add that to the heavy racist undertones, legal corporal punishment in schools, environmental pollution, rampant poverty and complete lack of any even marginally healthy or organic food sources, and you have a pretty clear idea why the companies here have to pay such a hefty relocation bonus to lure employees to move out here.
Despite the flaws of Texas, we still had a wonderful time with him and his family. The rain cleared off and a few friends joined us for a bonfire, and we welcomed in the new year with sleepy smiles.
We headed out late the next day via Point Comfort, another refinery town amongst many here on the gulf coast. The sun set and we happened to be driving right through a huge Valero refinery that stretched for miles on each side of the road. The lighting was interesting, and we pulled over to snap a couple quick pictures. Less than 30 seconds after stopping a police car whizzed by and I felt a sinking in my gut as the brakes went on and the car headed back towards us. The officer pulled in behind us and got out of the car. It was a young woman, looking very on edge, with no hint of friendliness. Dave got out to talk to her and explain what we were doing. There was a tense exchange of words, with Dave placatingly showing her the camera and explaining we wanted no trouble. She shined a light in the windows of the RV and onto Jax and I. After a few terse questions, she left and we scrammed the Hell out. I understand the high security risks of such a huge factory, and we didn't want to risk getting arrested for a few pictures. We made it over the state line that night into Louisiana and slept at a boat launch near more refineries, watching the massive tankers come in and out with heavy loads. The wind was insane that night and I didn't get much sleep.
So far Louisiana is an improvement. We had some delicious shrimp po boys at a small diner type restaurant to celebrate our long awaited freedom from the depressing expanse of Texas. The accents here are thick and hard to understand, yet wonderful to listen to. I listen in on every conversation I can, gleefully noting the use of phrases like "who dat?" and "heard dat dem der". Whenever I speak, I'm painfully aware of how very different I sound and I wonder if I have an accent to them.
On our way East we stopped at the Brec's Bluebonnet Swamp Nature Center, in Baton Rouge. It's tucked away in the city and you'd never know it's there if you weren't looking. It turned out to be great, only $3 a person. The center had some snakes and other reptiles on display, as well as a European Starling that knew 30 words and countless whistles and tunes.
After checking that out we headed down the trail through the swamp. We saw cardinals, blue jays, and fat squirrels building nests out of oak leaves. We also found the strangest, most alien plant I've ever seen in my life. It's called a Columned Stinkhorn and it's a fungus. The exterior is an innocent looking white globe, much like a puffball mushroom or a small egg. That is, until it explodes in a horrific, Alien-like maneuver. The inside holds a coiled red structure with a texture like a wet Cheeto. The Cheeto is held safe and snug, gestating in clear gelatinous mucous until the time is right and the mushroom sends it exploding out, leaving a slimy white husk behind. Not only that, but it's predatory, using an ungodly foul smell to lure unsuspecting insects in, which it then digests. Isn't nature beautiful?
We wanted to spend a full day in New Orleans, so we found a truck stop out on Highway 30 in Saint Gabriel to stay the night.
I spent nearly an hour talking to a strange old trucker from Alabama who recounted to me all the woes of his life in a slow Southern accent, with a smile on his face the whole while. He got into several graphic descriptions of trucking accidents he'd seen and was just starting to tell me about a man who got decapitated when I finally managed to politely make my escape.
Now I am out in the van, bundled in every piece of clothing I own and preparing for sleep. Tomorrow we see New Orleans and gorge on Cajun food!
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