Pass Manchac Eventually

       The Long Straight Road.

More long straight road

Hammond or Baton Rouge...

The only friend I found on Hwy 51

trains are never in a hurry.

And their long..

Potassium to stop those cramps

Overlooking the Pass Manchac from top of 51 bridge.

hwy 51 Bridge over the Pass.

What a long lonely road.

Look deep enough you'll see the BigFoot hiding in the brush..

The old original Hwy 51 around the lake to Hammond....

Chubracabra Trap,   they spread out bags of Doritos and if you stop to get one, they suck your blood till your a wilted bag of bones and meat collapsed on the ground.

75 years..... they serve Chubracabra.  Fried of course...

Hwy 51 Bridge overlooking Manchac Village.

The Pass from Pontchartrain to Maurepas

More Pass

New bridge I-55 and old bridge side by side.

That's me crossing the bridge, hoping I don't get blown off.

I swim like a brick with holes in it. 

Proud of my self

I 55. .

The Old Hwy 51 Bridge.

Cute french Quarter Couple look in the window.

This train went on forever...

Fishermen and Fisher woman fishing the Pass.

Fatboys Seafood Kitchen..

Junction of Old Hwy 51 and Nowhere..

The old pier

Yea ! that's me.....

This was a memorial sign , the left wing was hit by a car...

Going down the Bridge.

Miles of Swamp

Club on Esplanade and Decatur

The eternal Torch at Shell.....

The wall in the Spillway

Long Dam  Road.

Fishing the Pier...

90 miles to Manchac and back,.long time to be alone, long time to think.  Not everyone is fortunate as I to leave sanity at home, become a vagabond, see the world through crooked eyes, hear the world through
mistaken ears, smell the world through an uncaring nose, yet taste adventure, taste danger, taste risk,
taste the melding of body, mind and spirit, becoming the one , the one God meant me to be,  the one, living each minute to survive, to compete, to overcome ,  the oneness that separates me from all others...Visiting Manchac by way of the long boring road enabled me to reach a level of consciousness allowing me to look so deep inward into my gray matter I sometimes sense feelings not meant for consciousness recognition, places in my mind I shouldn't visit,  but for sleep when I can't remember the scares, insecurities, anxieties, fears. So I ride on , fearless, tireless, ruthless,and sometimes helpless. No hunger, no pain, no heat, no suffering, only thirst for Gatorade and thought. Music playing loud as possible , switching thoughts like a flashing LED's , each song takes me to another place, time and feeling , emotions bouncing in my head like ricocheting bullets, bang, bang, bang, there goes another memory, another year, another tragedy, another love, another joy, another heartache, another , and another and another and another... It all happens in seconds, but last for hours. To be a cyclist you have to have life to relive, your first girlfriend, not just a visit to her house, it's the thick white paint on the mantle,the orange ashtray on the sofa arm, the squeaking wooden floor, the 3rd venetian blind out of sync, the chipped 3 legged table holding the big black heavy telephone. the smell of the vinyl floor in the kitchen,  yellow glue  stains at the junctions of the wallpaper, the dishcloth spread over the strainer on the sink with the little hole in the bottom corner, the worn end of the banister leading upstairs. It's all there , all you need is the ability to look inward without conscience, care, compassion, desire, or remorse... just see it . feel it , smell it, relive it , move on to the next one ..Tony's Spaghetti House n Bourbon, round tables, glass windows and doors all around,white table cloths, crispy french bread slices, on a oval plate of Spaghetti , red sauce, 2 perfect meatballs,sprinkle your own grated cheese, and a root beer, $1.35 plus tip for the blond waitress with black roots, the black dress, white apron, a yellow pencil stuck in her hair, red hands from working with hot food, soft white shoes worn on the outsides...All around are pictures of the famous people that ate there, Joe Louis, Dean Martin, Louie Prima, Clark Gable, Valdaslov, and Truman Gandhi... many others. . the Bourbon street visitor parade continues to pass by on the multi-angled cracked sidewalk. . What does this have to do with biking, absolutely nothing, it's whats happening in my head while I'm riding.and it's better than a egg sandwich at the American Drugstore counter  on Canal St. Something on the shoulder of this desolate swamp slows me down to get a closer look , something red, it's little bags of Doritos, I 've heard of this trick , Chubracabras set these  as a trap for humans, you stop to get a bag, they pounce out the woods , pierce their fangs in your neck, suck out all your blood and leave a skin bag of bones and flesh for a buzzard feast .... I didn't stop , took a picture and kept going, Scanning the road ahead , heat emits upward like a glaze or a mirror, must be hot..I keep my speed below 20 mph so there's no issue with melting tires..No alligators, no snakes, no turtles, only Bigfoot and chubacabras, not even a fire breathing dragon, or a cyclops, back to my own show, I'm 12, visiting a schoolmate in the Iberville Projects, lives with his mom and aunt, he brings me in but before we can go to his room I must meet mom and aunt,  all the doors are open , furniture is sparse, no wallpaper, industrial tile on floor, the sofa is half for sitting and half for holding clothes, mom is hot boxing a Winston,sipping iced whisky, aunt is in the tub cooling off,  "come here boy let me look at you" I hesitantly fill the door opening, "he looks like a gentleman, probably gets out the tub to pee" , she lets out a bellowing laugh, we go play in his room, not much to do but sit spell bound by this woman in the tub, she probably had a tattoo, I didn't see it though. the counters and tables were filled with lady stuff, earrings, bracelets, chains, makeup, condoms, cigarettes,
zippo lighters, a few pints of cheap whiskey, I told my friend he should run away from home... he agreed, but never did..More miles, no end in sight..The road is stretched, smooth, uninviting, lonely, I keep scanning forward to see anything, finally I see the Bridge that crosses the Pass at Manchac, it's a few miles off but I know there is an end...My hope is interrupted by something crawling out the swamp on the right about a half mile ahead of me.. I focused with my new eyes, but unable to make it out yet, closer, and closer and closer, it begins to appear, a grayish, greenish figure of indeterminable   shape, it's moving right to left, no legs, like a blob, but that Movie was in the 50's,  fearless as I am, I approach .   It was void of eyes, ears, mouth, nose,
but inside it's 6 by 10 foot clump I see figures of bodies it must have absorbed, I saw reminants of  Jimmy Hoffa, Morgas, Truman Ghandi, Guru S Malady, Slim Pickens, Vic Schiro, Curt Cobain, and of course Jimmy the Cricket.  By this time I had concluded it was the dreaded killer Chalmation Amoeba , got loose and grew as a Ferrel, feeding to an enormous size..I had to stop, I couldn't challenge such a creature, I covered my nose, got into a submissive position and begged for mercy. To my luck Amoeba's are a favorite food of Chubracabras,  5 hungry, fanged, horned, winged, blood sucking chubracabras emerged out the swamp and attacked the giant amoeba, I don't know who ate who , I got on my bike and rode like the wind till I was out of sight.... Whew! that was close.... But whats an adventure without a close call, a danger, a risk, a dragon to slay,even if he's in your own mind...90 miles there and back... Great ride... and the Bike was fun too....
Gary Gauthier

Watching life go by...????

It's not the ground, walls, air, smells, or the 5 million taxi cabs, and 300 panhandlers, that make the French Quarter unique, it's the people, the people , the people and more people.. As I sat today under a elderly magnolia on Royal St. to rest , there is no rest, a new task appears, people watching, studying, wondering,
unique is inadequate to describe the vagabonds, homeless, musicians, clowns, tourist, workers, locals and of course me .  I was fortunate to have a live band about 8 feet to me right, a guitar player with a  guitar that was old as I was, not a classic Gibson, just an old cheap guitar, he played it well in his coveralls, long blond scraggly beard , alto voice, flip flop sandals, generally dirty, he was accompanied by a teenager with hair in a crew cut , white t shirt, , short jeans and of course flip flip flops playing a nice looking banjo, the third member played the guitar as well with a style I describe between George Goebel and Roy Rogers, he too had the fashionable coveralls, construction shoes, and white t shirt... I enjoyed them as a back drop to watching the people pass by... As I said they were a live band, I 've yet to hear a dead one play very well. But then I haven't had that opportunity yet, in spite of Satan asking me daily for my hand, offering me a glass of kool aid, wanting me to take a walk .  He wants to take me to the big room where you sit on a folding metal chair with no seat pad next to the small room filled with flames.  So I sit drinking my gatorade, (orange)
watching, listening studying.. A young man rides down the center of Royal on a bike, his wife beater shirt bottom flowing behind, tattoos covering both arms , legs, and neck, must mean something, his bike lock on the cross bar weighs about 50 pounds, his bike is worth about 20 bucks, hair was a semi Mohawk, shredded short jeans , black high top tennis, has to be an executive with one of the oil companies...My attention is drawn to a clop,clop,clop, on the sidewalk , a dark complected man black hair slicked back , big white teeth, brown leather shoes, silk socks, a blue velour jacket , dark shirt and yellow tie,  I had to rub my eyes , sure enough it was a flashback to 63, he was a barker at the Sho Bar on Bourbon,,,,don't know how he got mixed up in this blog, must be the Valium. 2 young men approach me and it was very, very, important to one of them to shake my hand, apparently he respected anyone who can balance themselves on a bicycle..Out of courtesy I acted like I gave a shit and appreciated his dumb ass. My favorite pal approached me next, seems I was a sitting target, here;s what he said, " my wife and I are in town, shes pregnant, could you spot me a couple of dollars to get her a hamburger" , this is what I heard , " as you can see I'm filty, slept on the street, need a beer to shake the DT;s  will you give me 2 dollars so I can buy a 32 oz beer". my reply is always the same. "I'm on a bike asshole , get away from me quick",...Ah!, a lady bike rider in the street, long dark hair, pretty face, plenty plenty red lipstick, a black dress she bought at the goodwill store, the bike is a old fat tire beach bike, with a basket so she looks like Mary Poppins on acid, the giveaway is on her left calf  a tattoo of a panther climbing her leg,,it's a foot long, a WWII sailor would have turned his back on the tattoo and her...Approaching are 2 young clean cut boys, now here's a change ,the older one has his hair combed and neat, cotton slacks with cuff,s a cotton jacket, dress shirt, penny loafer shoes, the younger one, is a little goofy looking,, a baseball cap kinda crooked , a baseball jacket, some dirty jeans, hey wait a minute , these guys are in black and white, its Wally and the Beaver, damm Valium....back to the street, another biker babe, this one is different, beach bike, clean and neat, Blond hair different shades, pretty face, capri white slacks, linen blouse, black sandals with rhinestones, right ankle carries a blue sapphire stone anklet, pink scarf flowing off her neck,  the bike basket full of expensive wine, a loaf of french bread strapped to her waist, her nails all turquoise, smiling and showing her white teeth,,, its was all too perfect , then I saw it , a tattoo on the top of her foot that said "worship me"... A man sat on the ground about 3 feet from me , he had a can of beer in it's little brown bag, a piece of brown cardboard, and a felt pen, he proceeded to write in the cardboard, in irregular print the following " too ugly to prostitute ,  too proud to steal"  he was right, he put down a little box for donations.  still sitting down against the fence and enjoying his beer,, He was well tanned, semi filty, but still a panhandler alcoholic ,,,,  Oh Oh , here comes grandma and grandpa from Nebraska, a combined weight of 575 pounds, they both wore khaki slacks dragging the ground, light blue shirts and Walmart tennis shoes, they were lost, my directions were simple , walk around here till your tired the go back to your room and rest... they agreed ... Here's a good one,  young man, semi filty, seemed serious, ask me the best place to watch the Saints game, I told him the Super dome probably is the best place to watch the Saints game, he explained "no, I mean free". I directed him to Bourbon, told him to stand in the street and look into any bar the game will be on , gee thanks mister, this moron had to have something else on his mind , nobody can be that stupid, or can they..... Here comes a famous quarter carriage, this one looked different, I noted that sitting in the back was John Wayne, John Houston, .2 women,a liqueur salesman ,a banker, a sheriff , with the driver took the front seat, wait a minute that's " Stagecoach" the movie,,, I've stopped too long,   getting up was hard, but once back in the saddle headed east , then to the Lake and back home , 50 miles today..... felt good. No sense living in reality too long , it'll wear you down...
gary gauthier....
.....

Decadent Decadance. missed all the action..

Waiting for Stella.

Voodoo House

Lamborgini

Street Band , very good.

Empty....

Found on Keiths Car...

the empty kegs stack up

Maybe its too early.

Pedicab... my life dream .

Line at Cafe'DuMonde.

Smiling Lately...????

Strange antique shop. read the signs.

Napoleon's retreat in Exile... colorful.  I think that was Elba.

Bright colors

Bright Banners.

More Banners.

Hiding in the shade

Scary looking place.

Read the sign 

read the sign.

That's how I'll look at 100 when I'm still riding 

CLick on the Pics to enlarge.