Skirting the Bayou while Chasing Storms

As we left New Orleans in the rearview mirror, we could not help but to remark as to what an amazing day this had been on the road.

Yesterday morning we were still in Tennessee. This morning we woke up in the town of Laurel, Mississippi. We’ve seen the Gulf of the Americas, had Beignets in New Orleans and tonight we’ll be sleeping in the tiny town of Winnie Texas. Wow! This is only day two of our return trip home, and already we’ve covered just over 677 miles, with another 312 more miles to go before calling Day 2 officially over.

Our drive from New Orleans would take us through Morgan City, along the outskirts of Lafayette, passed Sulphur Louisiana, across the Texas border; finally reaching Winnie. Winnie is considered part of the Texas Gulf communities, a mere 50 odd miles north-east of Galveston or 60 miles straight east of Houston.

For anyone retracing our steps, be warned. All we had eaten in New Orleans were the Beignets. We wanted to put the Bayou behind us before finding a nice mom and pop establishment for an original Louisiana lunch. Much to our surprise, most of the family-owned eateries up and down the highway close for three hours in the middle of the day. If you wanted to eat, you’d have to settle for a burger at a fast-food chain. Yeah, I don’t get it. We spent nearly an hour driving from one small town to the next, finally deciding Carl’s Jr would have to do. There we met a man also having lunch and struck up a conversation about the lack of places to eat in the middle of the day. Even in our home town, most things are open. The only ones that aren’t are places that only serve breakfast and lunch. So at noon you could find a place to eat. It turns out many of these smaller towns face staffing shortages. It’s simply easier to close in the afternoon, after the lunch rush and not open again until three or four for the dinner “crowd”. Jokingly I said it was siesta time.

Still, minor disappointments would not hamper our sense of adventure. Louisiana grows sugar cane, and refines oil for exportation. These seemingly opposing industries made for interesting viewing out the car window as we clipped off the miles.

Near the Texas state line, the skies began to change. Another storm was brewing. Summer is the best time for rain. It has a smell that is different. And it calls you to dance without a care.