Day 40 – Day 40?!?!

Saturday, November 29th

Livonia, LA to Mamou, LA

Have we really been on the road forty days?

The rain came around 4 or 5 this morning.  We woke at 6 to a drenched landscape: glistening cars, soaked asphalt, puddles everywhere and moisture infusing the air.  Unable to ride in those conditions, we fell back asleep for about two more hours.  When we checked outside again, the parking had dry patches and though clouds still completely blanketed the sky, the smell of rain was nearly gone.  We ate our free breakfast at Penny’s Diner and packed the bikes, keeping an eye on the weather reports.  A front pushed the rain clouds through overnight, but a slight chance of showers remained.

We waited almost until checkout time to give the roads as long as possible to dry, then took off down SR 77 again.  (We passed the field with the three Brahman cows again, but they kept their reactions mild this time and just watched us warily).  77 was nice until Fordoche when it returned to the cracked, pitted and poorly patched road we know and loathe.  As fate would have it, we fought a headwind all along 77 until we reached the turn off for SR 10.  Louisiana State Road 10 turned out to be a gravel and (today) mud road that climbed over a levee and continued on for a couple miles.  The map mentioned another branch to SR 10, so we backtracked (finally, a tailwind!) and turned down the only other (unmarked, of course) road in the vicinity, a chip-seal road paved long, long ago.  This lasted a few hundred feet before giving up next to a cemetery and giving way to a gravel and mud road which also rose over the same levee and disappeared to who knows where.

While Dad scouted the road, a guy in a truck pulling a flatbed trailer come out of the woods along the dirt road.  He passed Dad, then stopped where I was waiting to ask in a peculiar accent if we were lost.  I explained we were headed to Melville, but the maps hadn’t warned that 10 was unpaved.  I asked how far the gravel lasted and he mentioned something about “all the way to the ferry” then told me we couldn’t get through today since the ferry is closed on the weekends.  We had been using Google maps to figure out our route, and hadn’t noticed anything about a ferry.  From what we remembered, it looked like a bridge or something connected the roads over the river.  We looked at the parish map the police provided for us yesterday, and sure enough, there was a marking for a ferry crossing.  Argh.

We thanked the guy and watched him drive off as we turned our bikes around and tried to decide if we wanted to go North to cross or go South, back to the dreaded stretch of 190.  While we deliberated, the guy in the truck pulled up again and offered us a ride.  “I’m going back to 190 if you need a lift.”  Dad and I looked at heach other and said “Yeah, that would be great!”

We loaded the bikes – the Corsa in the truck bed with a vanity and the Agio on the flatbed with a fourwheeler – and got underway.  He had spent the morning hunting deer on his lease just off SR 10, and shared several great stories about helping people who have found themselves lost or in trouble: a couple in a van who got lost following their GPS, some punks lost one Sunday morning on their way to Baton Rouge from a night of clubbing, an older couple with a flat but without a jack.  Luckily for us, he does this rescuing routine a lot.

He took us down 77 to 81 to 190 and over the horrible, flat 5 mile deathtrap bridge over the bayou and the giant bridge.  (See first picture from Day 6.)  We never wanted to ride 190 again after all the flats Dad got from the debris on the shoulder, but in less than an hour he spirited us over some of the toughest sections of the trip through Louisiana.  He planned to turn South at I-49 to head to Lafayette, but shortly before Opelousas, my bike fell over on the trailer and rather than adjust it, we decided to ride our bikes from there.  We thanked him and waved as he pulled away.  We got rolling West on 190 and less than a mile down the road, Dad picked up a pallet staple in his rear tire.  Oh, Hwy 190, our next blues song will be about you.  I made motel reservations in Mamou while Dad fixed his flat.  We stopped at a gas station West of Opelousas to pee and get a snack.  We ate a late breakfast, but hadn’t had any food since then.  Now, about 3pm, we didn’t want to waste daylight on a full meal so we stuck with crackers, peanut butter, mandarin oranges and Reese’s then jumped back on the road.  Rolling through Opelousas, we passed three little girls walking down the side of the road.  I guess they hadn’t seen anything like us; when Dad passed them, one girl exclaimed, “What the ?!?”

We turned onto SR 104, which we planned to take to Mamou, and immediately dreaded the ride ahead.  The road, true to Louisiana form, could hardly pass for a road.  Buckled, bumpy, cracked, pot-holed, and generally horribly deteriorated, my body just hurt thinking of the twenty-something miles until Mamou.  A semi-stampede of three frightened calves momentarily brightened an otherwise dreadful ride.  The day, still completely overcast, grew gradually cooler as we moved toward Mamou.  We stopped at a Piggly Wiggly to get directions to the motel and took the opportunity to pick up fried chicken for dinner and restock on oatmeal, Fig Newtons and PB crackers.

We had to stop twice to ask for clarification on the directions to the motel and we almost passed it.  Formerly the Bamboo Motel and Storage, the Mona Lisa Motel and Storage is under new management.  They are trying to renovate the place, but haven’t done much so far.  Our room, a large closet with one double bed came with a space heater and a 12″ TV.  There is no cable, no internet, no phone an the water is colorful.  There’s an air freshener stuck on the ceiling near the smoke detector.  I wouldn’t mind it all except they charged $45 for the room.  I’m not sure I have the heart to tell them that they shouldn’t charge for a finished room when it’s unfinished.  But if you pass through here in the future, keep an eye out.  The management seems nice enough and maybe they will make something of this place.

Supposedly every Saturday people come from around the world to converge on a local dance hall called Fred’s, I think.  We’re not sure why they come or where exactly the hall is or how they find a place to stay, but it sounds interesting.  Unfortunately, we’re too tired to check it out.  Hopefully, tomorrow we’ll be back in Texas and off these Louisiana roads!

Today’s Quick Stats:

Bike              Distance (mi)    Average Speed (mph)     Trip Odometer

MiniWini             45.30                    17.4                          2660.6

Sti(ck/g)            45.40                    16.7                          2651.1

Stampedes: 2 and a little bit over

Roadside Pees: 2