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| River Bridge at Baton Rouge |
What is it about this river?
It “defines” things. Even
Southwestern College – as far as we are from the river itself – has something
that is defined by it. Our tour guides
are fond of recounting to numerous visitors and guests how our gymnasium is
“the oldest active gymnasium used for its original purpose west of the Mississippi.”
What would happen if there were no Mississippi? What would the United States look like? How would it define its boundaries and
superlatives? This river, this “Father
of the Waters,” as the Native Americans called it, is as linked to the history
of our nation as a bodily organ. It is
difficult to imagine life without it.
And so it is that when you turn at Baton Rouge onto I-10
west and you look ahead and see the large, high bridge that crosses the river,
you sit up a little straighter in your chair.
You tap the children on the leg or arm and say, “Take the headphones out
of your ear, we’re about to cross the Mississippi!” And they do.
And then you all sit in reverent awe, staring out the windows at this moving
mass of muddy water.
It was busy today – this water highway. There were barges loaded down with cargo as
far as the eye can see. What is on the
barges? Where did they come from? Where are they going? You look at the trucks littering I-10 east
toward the city and wonder how many of those are headed to the port so their
contents can be off-loaded onto one of the barges that will carry it down to
the gulf and eventually the sea. How
many of the trucks going west are carrying cargo that they picked up?
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| Mark Twain |
All of this free flowing exchange of goods. People to sell and people to buy. Maybe Mark Twain is on to something when he equates
the river barge pilot with the very essence of American freedom.
“…all men – kings and serfs alike – are slaves to other men
& to circumstance – save alone, the pilot – who comes at no man’s beck and
call, obeys no man’s orders & scorns all men’s suggestions…It is a strange
study, -- a singular phenomenon, if you please, that the only real, independent
& genuine gentlemen in the world go quietly up and down the Mississippi
river asking no homage of any one, seeking no popularity, no notoriety, &
not caring a damn about whether school keeps or not.” Letter to Will Bowen, August 1866.
The river’s meandering ways are free. It is not even limited by its banks which
notoriously change. Man has attempted to
tame it – and sometimes it appears to have happened. But only because the Mississippi allows
it. In reality, the Mississippi does
what it wants. No one can control
it. No one can tell it what to do. You can only ride its currents and enjoy the
scenery.
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| I-10 |
Until, that is, the scenery changes. After crossing the Mississippi at Baton
Rouge, we quickly found ourselves “smack dab in the middle” (so the sign at the
visitor center said) of the Atchafalaya swamp.
(Atchafalaya is pronounced:
Ah-CHAH-fuh-law’-ya – make sure to put the emphasis on the second syllable. I heard some southern gentlemen up further
north soften the ‘ch’ into more of an ‘sh,’ but the locals all pronounce it as
above. When in Rome, I say.) The visitor center nearest Lafayette on I-10 gives
an excellent introduction of the importance of the swamp in a five minute
continuously looping video. As a result,
we learned very quickly that the Atchafalaya basin (translate swamp) is the
largest wetland in the United States.
First – a little terminology. A river is a large, natural stream of water
that flows in a channel to the
sea, a lake or another stream or river. A bayou is a marshy outlet of a lake or a
river. A swamp, on the other hand, is an
area of low-lying, uncultivated ground where water “hangs out.” Regardless of whether we were driving through
bayou, swamp or across a river – the fact was – there was water everywhere.
Within a two hour space of time, we had gone from a national
forest where water was present in the form of creeks and puddles, to crossing
the Mississippi with its barges, industry and boats, to driving on an elevated
highway thick in the middle of a swamp.
The area down here is “tight” with nature.
We drove into Lafayette and stopped for some fried shrimp,
fried catfish and a little Louisiana
gumbo at Vermilionville – a small, living
museum with various homes and buildings representing Acadian culture throughout
the years. After that satisfying stop,
it was on to Rouses in Morgan City, LA to replenish our supplies and head out to a Hicks' first - a stay on a houseboat in the swamp.
And it was on the houseboat on this first night that a small
miracle happened. We entered and
unloaded the car and within minutes – the boys had found the 5 fishing rods and
tackle box stowed in the back closet.
They loaded those things up with bait and had those lines in the water
faster than you can say Atchafalaya!
Their I-Phones were laying on their beds where they had laid them when they
took their clothes in from the car. I
checked.
And it was on the houseboat on this first night that a small
miracle happened. We entered and
unloaded the car and within minutes – the boys had found the 5 fishing rods and
tackle box stowed in the back closet.
They loaded those things up with bait and had those lines in the water
faster than you can say Atchafalaya!
Their I-Phones were laying on their beds where they had laid them when they
took their clothes in from the car. I
checked.
I think we are going to have a good time here.
