Shell Beach
Arose early Saturday morning,, like an excited kid ready to go fishing, I couldn't wait to hit the road,not sure of direction I flipped my morning Valium and the manufacturers mark pointed east. so east it was.Many wise men through the centuries, Zigler, Dwyer, Campbell, Horowitz, except Horace Greely, felt that facing the east in the morning is not only spiritually uplifting but religiously righteous, the rising sun , a national motto for Japan, facing Mecca, facing the Far East, facing the foundations of most religions, facing the origins of mankind, and facing Chalmette, Da Parisch, the Garden of Tony's, the land not forgotten by time, specific destination, Shell Beach, 50 there 50 back.. I'm loaded up , take the lake route to Elysian Fields, turn left on St Claude and away we go.. navigating, the Industrial Canal Bridge is easy , don't , take the walk on the side, a wheel barrow barely fits over the grated drawbridge, a car and a bike , no chance, it's the gateway to Arabi, not Arabia, there are no sultans, no turbans, baseball caps , white swimp boots, cracked dried napes,hard working, earthy people, survivors of countless geological , meteorological , environmental and sociopolitical events..Passed Chalmette Ave. on St Bernard highway where I worked when a young man at Tony's super meat market.. it was there I received my Certificate and Pin marking me an honorary Arabian,pronounced, Ara b n. A glow on my left blinded me for a minute,, It's World Famous "Rocky and Carlos",not to be confused with Rocky an Bullwinkley's in Kenner, both great restaurants with different menu's , R and; C's famous for macaroni and cheese, R and B famous for blackened shad from the West Metairie canal. I've taken the NEW highway to boredom several times and opted to tour the OLD highway (46),through the scenic Land of Islenos filled with history ,character and Islenos, I toured the graveyard, museum, monuments ,felt like a Texan in cowboy boots on the beach in Key Largo . My keen instinct of direction told me I was headed in the right direction , but something wasn't right, I'd avoided the new highway , was on highway 46 , ROAD CLOSED , the sign said, stopping to make some decisions, I question 2 men aside a 79 green and white chevy apache pickup, I ask the one with the cowboy hat, blue green plaid shirt, stomach hanging over his rodeo belt buckle, a pair of cowboy boots to die for, cool sunglasses, a left eye that was more open than the right and the side of his mouth without teeth hung an extra inch,, "I know I''m in the right direction but seem to be on the wrong road", he replied in a friendly comforting voice, " the new road is about 3 miles back and north about 2 miles, this is hwy 46 , it's closed , but your on a bike, go on ahead, you'll be alright, tell anybody who ask I said it was ok", my best reply was natural, " yes thank you", later I wondered who said it's OK , maybe I can just describe him and everybody here knows him. I proceeded around the barricade , southeast, going to "Shell Beach" or "Yoclocsky" or "Delacroix," or " Cuba". The scenery is beautiful, the Islenos monuments , churches, schools are all classic, beautiful , warm and earthy.. As I proceeded a few parts of the road had washed out, I carried my bike and I around them, the folks all waved me on, said hello, finding Bayou LaLoutre, world famous gateway to fishing grounds for redfish, speckled trout, crabs, blue whales, haddock, and octopus, I knew I was near my target, following the bayou to the draw bridge that centers metro Shell Beach . Crab fishers were unloading their catch into boxes for retail sale, hundreds and hundreds , guides were cleaning ice chest full of specs and reds they brought their clients to, the locals were watching TV in their 20 feet off the ground camps, camps is not a good description for these gorgeous , beautiful , luxurious, houses in the sky, following the main drag , checking on my friends camp, in construction, I head back to the draw bridge, take a little break and start heading back, it's about 12:30 and my peanut butter sandwich was delectable, washed it down with my 4th Gatorade.I followed the canal, the road is narrow, a lot of fishermen were heading home with their boats in tow, I opted to take the new highway back, big 4 lane with a 8 foot shoulder, not very scenic, but safer. I went through the gigantic cement wall that keeps water, aliens, politicians and unicorns on the south side of da parish ,it was smooth riding... But ! not so fast,,, about 1/2 mile past the great wall my right eye zeroed in on an out of place object in the grass of the shoulder, like a small foot ball, blue , white, red , dirty, I recognized it immediately , a Chubracabra egg, must have fallen out of a tree and rolled here, no one stopped because they didn't know what it was , I on the other hand , being a student of the unknown, the unforeseen, the never seen, the fabled, the imagined, the ludicrous, the incredulous, and the more than likely unbelievable except in my psyche had to stop and investigate, take some pics, encourage an engagement , not my wish, snapped some photos of the egg, slowly, step by step , I angled for the tree line, I began to smell them, a acidic rancid smell, my eyes scoured the the trees, about 12 feet up is where they hang, whoa!, 2 o'clock, there it sat on a bending leafless oak branch, they manifest in variable looks, this one had the face of a Tasmanian devil with huge fangs, black fur , very large foot claws , about 5 inches long, solid, digging into the branch, perched for action, 2 small horns on the top of it's head, ivory colored, a long trail of saliva leaked out its partially opened jaw, big rough eyes with black pupils the size of bully marbles, when it spotted me it spread it wings as a show of force to ward me off, it's wings were of a leathery make, a powerful hand with claws for tearing were made into the corners, once spread it gave out a piercing vocal I can't describe although it made the hair on my neck stand up and vibrate, my skin tightened, I shifted to "OH SHIT" mode, slowly backing out. I was too slow, it swept down , grabbed my shoulders, began to flap, I resisted, throwing blows that did nothing to deter my ill fate, I was airborne, time for plan B, reaching in my right back pocket I managed to get hold of and used my Chubracabra Repellent Spray , now it's pissed off, we go higher, I note it's set sights on a barb wire fence near the highway, I see my bike not far, he releases me, having read many Green Lantern, Flash, and J"onn J"onzz Comic books I knew the secret of surviving this was to not hit the fence, land somewhere soft thinking fast I removed my riding jersey , formed it into a parachute, went past the fence, landed on my feet in tall grass, softly. The Chubracabra circled twice, dropped it's wings back, straightened it's neck , began to dive for me, a screeching yell reminded me I was in trouble, again I stayed cool, noted a culvert on my flight down, scurried into it, wet, muddy,, frogs, insects, spiders, lizards, snakes, but no Chubracabras, it's shadow covered one end , I went deeper, waited, took a peek, all was clear, snuck out the culvert , ran for my bike, saw the egg broken open, no baby Chubracabra in sight, I mounted and rode with a fearful zest that took me a few miles away in no time... Lesson, never get between a mother Chubracabra and her baby... Back on the quest , like Ulysses trying to get back to Ithaca, I look forward to the Sirens, oh and their song too, what can they do, turn me into a pig,, ha. already a Goat..I approach a large intersection, ok, left or right, I opt for left, no particular reason, good choice ,I'm back on St Bernard Highway, I get to ride through the Oak Lined corridor that has a name but I don't know it , beautiful, serene, relaxing. Stopping at a local, kinda gas station, food store, restaurant, slaughter house, casino, to empty my trash, grab some snacks out my bag, open a fresh Gatorade, I notice very skinny woman leaning on her shoulder against the brown brick wall, on her feet were scuffed up black pumps, a thin loose fitting black dress displaying large flowers of many colors in print , it was half calf length, her hair was light brown, very fine and soft looking, her complexion was more pale than light, it contrasted the dark red lipstick and cheek rouge, she raised her right hand, bony ,, venous, long nails bright red, as if to point to me , I became scared, first a chubracabra now princess of the dark side beckoning me to her web, she smiled , said "Gary", "join me for some hot tea and Honey?", not having the sense to run immediately I had to engage, "who are you and how do you know my name", here it comes , she says, " we all know your name", "who's we" , I reply, "we, the souls that haunt you every minute of your life, the souls from previous lives, this life, and those to come" , "your not a soul friendly fellow", " they ravish you one after another seeking to destroy the little sanity you have", she says..I had only one thing left to do , I point my plastic $2 Green Lantern ring in her direction, she begins to whimper, curl up, falls to the fetal position, a haze appears , all that's left is black scuffed pumps, a black dress with large flowers, another hapless soul all heaped on the dirty stained cement. Not a consequence for compassionless, unconscionable, me. Lets ride,, Arabi looks good, getting close to the city, St Bernard Highway , lined with small businesses, thriving, turning Arabi into a money mecca. Approaching the Industrial Canal , the oaks are cool, sheltering, secure, shading , once again cross the Narrows Bridge , (sidewalk on the side ), it must have just come down, there are barges in the canal being lifted to the next level on their way to the Lake, for this is where the LOCKS are, Mississippi and Lake Pontchartrain are two different levels, something we must deal with and never allow to breach. St Claude, vintage street, gateway to By Water, 9th ward, Frankie and Johnny's Furniture, Nichols High School, and Rampart St. St Claude has a bike lane, it's where the 9th warders park their cars, like an extra lane, but then, it's the nint ward, turning right on Elysian Fields, big wide avenue, big bike lane, they park bigger cars there, around Gentilly Blvd, I seek a rest stop, found a cemetery, cemeteries are safe places, this is an old and new cemetery, I think it's a Jewish Cemetery, no crosses, crucifixes, statues of any kind, many vases, and the names on the markers give some hints, I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, walk around to take some pictures, I'm startled as I come around a lane, there stands a thin, nude , pale, woman, red lipstick, rouge, light brown hair, yes, the same woman, I don't even watch ":The Walking Dead" why am I in this mess, maybe one Valium too many ?, she blows me a kiss, says ," your soul is ours", and melds into a crypt , the only appropriate response I had was to haul ass, I did so, hurriedly. Elysian Fields to the Lake, feeling good, music is good, wide road, bike lane, cruising the Lakefront brought back some memories, the Sun was nestling the horizon , preparing to rest, drop into the lake, me too, cross the Bayou St John Bridge, pass the old Shelter #2, through Bucktown, up on the Lake bike trail, slow a minute to admire the new Bucktown Marina, next stop the Bonnabel Boat launch, in construction yet still the only Porta Potties available, I always use the end one so I can prop my front wheel against the Pottie, that way I can use my sensitive Jedi senses to know if some one is trying to take my bike, notice I say trying, won't get far, entering the luxurious, sanitary, warm , comforting, plastic porta potti, going about my business, I hear a thump on the roof, then violent shaking, then tossing side to side, what ? I jump outside , look on the roof, yes , the chubracabra I escaped from followed me back , had its young attached to its' back, it had dug it claws into the top of the potti and was trying to get to me by tearing off the roof, it didn't understand the resilient, tensile, tough properties of plastic , ain't going no where, as it tore at the roof I again took the opportunity to haul ass, rode like a flash to the Causeway bridge, climbed up underneath its base and kept quite, after an hour or so I looked outside , no sign of my attacker, on the trail again, cross the levee for the hundredth time, the regular folk were out enjoying the last of today's sun, I'm cruising along stopped at the Suburban Canal , watched a teenager haul in a 5 foot garfish on his Spiderman rod and reel, impressive. Cruising again, thighs are burning, don't care almost home,,calves cramping, don't care almost home, thirsty and hungry, don't care almost home, getting dark , don't care almost home. Out of nowhere a rider comes alongside me, I'm almost to David Dr, , didn't think much of it , turned my head to the left to say hello, the face , the face, the face, it took over my conscience, thrown aback, my front wheel began to wobble, my balance was unsure, I sweat, I shook, taking inventory , a dark red bike, balloon tires, no fenders, no guards, wide handle bars, no grips, it was a kid, white t shirt, blue jean shorts, Keds tennis shoes, brown hair , blue eyes, freckled faced, once again I hauled ass, looked in my rear view, he disappeared, don't know , crossed the levee to David Drive, made the ride of death down David Drive, into Lafaniere park made my 100, great ride, beautiful sights, good weather, less meds next time?.. absolutely not,,,, Fun just as it is....planning that trip to Florida, just planning , but that's how it starts, Last song to play,, Chris Isaac "Can't do a thing to stop me " ....
gary gauthier
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cemetary on Elysian FIelds and Gentilly Blvd,, no crosses, no statues, | very interesting I know why do you. |
All the plots have ornamental vases...cement.. |
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that's me , still kicking |
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another Ghost bike |
Historic Cemetery down below... |
Clean an neat. |
Crucifix in the back |
Historic church across the road. |
Not the Serengeti , St Bernard. |
A monument |
Same one , |
Its me . |
Famous Bayou LaLoutre |
Fishing boats lining the Bayou |
Other side. |
Sign I was looking for |
Chubacabra Egg... |
Down Town Shell Beach |
Hey, Its not Disney World, but.... |
Another Ghost Bike |
Lakefront on the way back . |
100.35 miles 9hrs 35 minutes. 11 hour tour. |
Me.. Plastic Action Figure. |
looking for a sunken boat. |
This curled Monolith glows and pulsates,,, From the Planet Guiron. |
Highway 61 from Last week |
Blind River from last week |
Spillway with a stuck tree from last week |
Spillway drying up |
Packing my backpack Friday night. |
Very Foggy Sat Morning |
little better |
Plenty drink |
thats the lake behind me . |
Lakeshore Drive |
SeaWall |
Looking into the Foggy Abyss |
Fog Condensating on my glasses |
Starting to clear up |
