Day 17: St Francisville, Louisiana to Thibodaux, Louisiana. 97.08 miles.
The bridge was boycotted. We started at the place the ferry would have dropped us off. While assembling our gear and getting our bicycles ready, two vehicles approached inquiring if the ferry was in service. One vehicle had a mother, her small child, and a dog and we directed her to the brand new bridge. The second vehicle was a Louisiana Sheriff transporting a prisoner. Ah yes, the police in Louisiana don't even know there's a new bridge.
In Jackson, Tennessee we were told that the further south we traveled, southern hospitality would increase. I would (semi-politely) disagree. Southern hospitality peaks in St Francisville and decreases steadily on the road to Thibodaux. Here's why I disagree:
Aw heck, no list. No need to be negative or dwell on the bad of today, just know that Louisiana drivers aren't the friendliest.
So let me state something super positive: the sweet potato waffle at Birdman Coffee and Books in St Francisville was amazing. Plus the atmosphere and the local art made for a very enjoyable morning. (Yet a few more reasons to love St Francisville.)
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Bumpy roads. At times similar to Illinois except that looking left and looking right meant sugar cane. And other than the flicking off birds given by many drivers today, the vast majority of the bird noises that I listened to were from Red-winged Blackbirds. This meant I had plenty of time to ruminate. And here's where my mind traveled:
I regret. I regret a lot of stuff. Two regrets played the most part of the traveling.
First: DBrowne and I were playing frisbee golf. We were on the 4th hole (for those of you familiar with the course, the hole is the large tree just north of Peet). I tapped in and DBrowne was only ~30 feet away when he threw his frisbee. His throw was low and it hit a small clump of grass in front of the tree that had not been mowed. Since I was standing right there, I was able to watch the frisbee hit the strands of grass, but not hit the tree. So I loudly declared, "No." As in, nope, your frisbee did not hit the tree. Extra stroke. DBrowne didn't cuss much, but the look on his face when I refused to give him credit for his throw was full of curse. I can still picture that face from the incident and now when playing frisbee golf, I am much more generous with what constitutes a good throw. Root structure (the frisbee hits a root that's from the tree and it counts). Or picnic table/tree extended (a picnic table is touching the tree/hole and if the frisbee hits the picnic table then it counts via the transitive property). I learned my lesson. I'm a much nicer/lenient frisbee golf player, but I still regret not giving DBrowne credit for hitting the tree.
Second: I knew a portion of today's ride was going to be tricky and there was a better than usual chance of someone getting lost. I didn't say anything and when I met up with Liz further down the road I discovered the other three had gotten lost. The turn they missed meant they had to ride a very (very very) busy Louisiana road, populated with a lot of big truck traffic, without any shoulder to ride on, and then today in a decent rain. Rain decreases visibility and considering Louisiana drivers' general disregard for bicyclists, the three had a lot of close calls.
All I had to do was say something at the previous rest stop. Hey, let's ride this next stretch together so we can make sure we all get to the south side of Port Allen safely. Or, hey, in 4 miles there's going to be a tricky section, be really careful and make sure you make this turn.
Instead silence. And I regret the silence. Yes, I suppose I could look at the situation by saying, they could have looked at the map, they could have not thrown blind trust into Google Maps, I mean really, they're adults. If I keep silent then any difficulties that arise must rest solely on their shoulders. (Naive, right?)
I have a couple of friends who stand firm in a "no regrets" philosophy. I don't think I can comprehend how it works because it's so far removed from my own mind. Sometimes I worry they hold onto their philosophy so strictly that they refuse to examine their actions and the consequences. I'm going to be indecent (not give DBrowne credit), but instead of learning from it (become a more loving and kind frisbee golf player) I'm going to stick my fingers in my ears while repeating, "no regrets, no regrets."
We're all resting comfortably in Thibodaux. We made it safely and the other three learned some valuable Louisiana lessons that will be needed tomorrow in order to stay safe on our last riding day. No regrets?
No matter the rationalization, my silence created harm. And if we're going to learn one thing, how about: Do no harm.
I should have said something. Anything.
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Other quick thoughts:
Sign: Professional hog removal.
Another: Crabs That You Can Take Home.
And adding to the list of knowing I'm in the south... Roadkilled alligators (not pictured).
Track 11: Sufjan Stevens - Follow your heart, follow the flame, or fall on the floor.
