Ken stops for lunch in Bunkie. Another nondescript Louisiana town, but decent crowd in the cafe..
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Bite to eat in Bunkie
January 16th, 2012Louisiana swamp
January 16th, 2012Ken finally finds a piece of Louisiana that’s comfortable on the eye…
Church on Sundays
January 15th, 2012
Catholic. Baptist. Methodist. Others. Small churches scattered across Eastern Texas and into Louisiana. Invariably clad in bright white wooden slats. Sunday morning. Even the most remote appeared to have very healthy congregations. Cars often obliged to park up on the edge of the highway, the parking lots full. One had a sign that simply said "God’s House is a Church". I smiled.
Rivulets
January 15th, 2012I didn’t like Mamou. Rundown. Shops closing up early. Heavy steel grills. Gas station that’d lost it liquor licence. Earlier Oberlin similar. Boarded up businesses. Closed cafes. Family Dollar outlet. Others ninety-nine cents.
Louisiana as dull as it had been flat. But not entirely uneventful. Tire blow-out on the opposite side of the highway scattering debris in my path. Sudden disappearance into woods, furiously rummaging in the panniers for a toilet roll. Sympathetic to the final moments of John Hurt’s character in Alien.
Early days in Louisiana
January 15th, 2012Eighty or so miles into Louisiana, Ken reflects on his first impressions of the State, wondering if he’s been too harsh? Probably not.
Oberlin
January 15th, 2012Ken makes a brief stop in Oberlin. And it’s not pretty. Just enough time for a sip of coffee…
Welcome to Louisiana
January 14th, 2012Ken leaves the Lone Star State – Texas – for Louisiana. And evidence our croissant munching friends may have beaten him to it…
Asking after Astrid
January 10th, 2012I’d interrupted Carol. She’d mentioned a few cyclists that’d stayed with her. Including an English rider. Astrid. Quickly painting a picture of her, I’d proffered a few distinguishing details. Yes, it was her. Definitely. Explaining I’d corresponded with Astrid but never met her. Not yet at least. She lived perhaps fifty miles from my Somerset cottage.
Shouldn’t have been surprised. Route I was following across the southern States a very logical choice. And a stop at Carol’s bunkhouse equally sensible. Simply forgetting Astrid had chosen to come this way. Also cycling around the world.
[Visit Astrid at www.cyclingfullcircle.com]
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