David Johnson's Travel Blog
Bicycle Trip 1999
10/12  O Windy Day; O Windy, Windy Day
10/12  Illinois Beach State Park (South)
10/13  Evanston, IL
10/16  Left on Halsted and straight for a couple days
10/16  No peace from barking dogs.
10/17  No peace from barking dogs.
10/18  Little ants. Big Earth.
10/18  Cold, sore, sun burned and lonely.
10/19  Evansville -- what a hole.
10/19  And that's why I drive a Multitrack
10/20  Concern for my life on the Bridge O Death
10/20  Hang it, I'm not broke.
10/21  Who's idea was it to come THIS WAY?
10/21  A couple of notes.
10/22  So Lawng Kentucky
10/23  The difference between a hill and a mountain
10/23  Highway 68 is awesome
10/24  Way down yonder 'round the Chattahoochee
10/25  And I thought Chicago was tough.
10/27  I'm not so tough
11/01  Still in Atlanta
11/03  FINALLY leaving Atlanta
11/03  "A Pilgrim," he called me
11/04  A new contestant
11/05  A whole new country
11/06  Trailers West
11/06  Did somebody order pine trees?
11/07  Deep Blue Chevron Station
11/08  I think I goof off too much
11/10  Sea Roaches, Oil Rigs and Casinos
11/11  Hot time in the bayou
11/12  Running on one cylinder
11/12  The adventures of Broken-Knee
11/13  Way to go, Brown!
11/13  Thank God for Advil and Bungie Cords
11/14  Kids in the streets with guns
11/15  I can see cows for miles and miles
11/16  Pleasantly surprised
11/18  Not much to report
Okefenokee 2002
Anza-Borrego 2003
Texas 2003
Road Trip West 2003
Sequoia National Park 2004
Hiking Florida 2005
Nomadic 2005
Bicycle Trip 2009
Bicycle Trip 2010
Nomadic 2010
Little Bicycle Trip 2011
Wisconsin Bicycle Trip 2011
Bicycle Trip 2011
Nomadic 2011
Kayak Trip 2012
Nomadic 2012
Liverworks Productions
Nomadic 2013
Liverworks Productions
Texas Pig Hunting
Bicycle Trip 2014
Bicycle Trip 2015
Biking West 2015
Chickens and Pheasants 2016
Biking About 2016
New Zealand 2016
Kayak Trip 2017

Kids in the streets with guns

1999-11-14

Over the last few days I have noticed that duck hunting was a fairly popular sport down here. However, until today I had no idea as to how much of a cultural signpost it really was.

As I stated in my last letter, I spent last night at a boat landing. I had assumed all those people hauling boats with their Chevy trucks were fishing. That was not the case. Unless, of course, the fish in these parts require multiple rounds of gunfire in order to land them. I kid you not: even though there was less then fifty feet of visibility because of the fog, the morning sounded like opening day of deer season in Browntown. Probably worse. And most of the perish hadn't even mobilized yet.

As I biked along to Pecan Island, I was passed by one Chevy hauling a flatboat after another. To be fair, a few were Fords or Dodges, but just a few. In Pecan Island I stopped at a gas station. Because it was Sunday, most of the hunters had their youngons with them, dressed in camo and armed to the teeth. I waited in line behind two hunters at the checkout. Each bought a case of beer and not much else. That should make things interesting, I thought.

Outside I talked to one of them who informed me that the reason all the land I saw was locked up and posted was because of all the hunters. He smelled like he'd been drinking already.

So I continued on my trek, passing many, many houses with more hunters in various stages of readiness. It soon became apparent that the best way to get friends around here is to A) own a flat bottom boat or B) control your own private, posted boat launch or (for really good friends) C) both A and B and lots of beer.

Indeed there were many ducks. I had seen giant flocks of them the day before, and as I biked along I saw hundreds of them in the waterways beside the road. I saw many other birds, also. One I thought was a flamingo at first, because it was pink, but it had a bill like a spoon (I shall not be so bold as to guess it was actually a spoonbill). I assume it ate shrimp, thus giving it its pink color.

What I biked through today is best described as wetlands. I went through no swamps to speak of. Of course, there was plenty of cow pasture here and there with funny-looking Brahman (?) cattle.

I also got to see many more turtles and a bunch of alligators, some so big I wouldn't even want to play with them even if I could get to where they were. I still haven't got to see any snakes.

And now I'm wishing I had been counting, but I'm glad I hadn't, because that would of been morbid. The raccoons seem to be way ahead again, followed by opossums and armadillos. I can't be sure though, because I haven't been counting.

My route: I followed 82, starting from about 10 or 15 miles south of Forked Island, through Pecan Island, through Grand Chenier, through Cameron, across the Ferry ($0.25), and west to Holly Beach.

While in Grand Chenier, a small convoy of cars stopped as I was getting water. A black man with a leather jacket got out of his car and asked me something. I answered, "I have no idea what you just said." So he got back in his car and they left. Oh well. I wasn't trying to be rude.

I was told by both a Christian Sheriff and a guy working on the ferry to stay on the beach here in Holly Beach next to the Holly Beach Christian Resort. So here I am nestled between a few RV's listening to the crashing waves. I would have tried to go off by myself but the ferry man warned me that sometimes the local boys like to get drunk and drive up and down the beach. This truly is a unique state.

The only problem with being between the RV's is that I was forced to set my tent up on curiously wet send. I hope by morning I have no regrets.

Today is actually the first time I've seen the ocean since Dauphin Island. And I've been trying to follow the coast. Weird.

At the rate I'm going I should be in Houston Tuesday afternoon / night.

P.S. Here's a sign that I've camped in too many sandy places:

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I've got sand in the place where I sleep.

Running through my covers and making me ich now.

Sand in the food that I eat.

Got that gritty taste every time I chew slow.

(chorus)

If you can't abide it, get out of the sun.

Dirt won't hurt cause it sticks to the lawn.

Sand in the gears of my bike.

Ruining my chain and all my bearings now.

Sand in the stuff that I pack.

All together adding twenty or thirty pounds.

(chorus)

Sand

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If I had a day job, I wouldn't quit it.
 
contact me at le@liverworks.com
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