Mamou, LA. (Pop. 3,242)

What a difference a day makes!

We slept well last night. I guess we were pretty tired from the less-than-stellar previous night. We got up and headed to the convenience store and restaurant. I am never hungry that early in the morning, but my head takes over, and I convince myself that I really do need some food for the day's ride. I had a good breakfast of coffee, a biscuit, three slices of bacon, two eggs over medium, and grits. I was ready for the day.

My goal for the day was Mamou (pronounced Ma Moo), a small town with a declining population. I had a 58-ish-mile ride ahead, and after yesterday's ride, I thought I should get a good start and hope for the best.

Dana was headed for Bunkie, a small town recommended by Heidi Jackson, our friend Dana met in Waveland. It was about 12 miles out. I sailed along, arrived, and saw the antique store, coffee shop, and miscellaneous store. I stopped, took a picture, and sent it to Dana. She replied, "I am here too!" She had just arrived. We met at the store and saw it didn’t open until 9:00. I didn’t want to wait around for half an hour this early in the day, so I left Dana wandering the small town, waiting for the store to open.

I was just on the edge of town when, to my right, I saw a yard with dozens of purple martin homes. I just had to stop. My dad was always fascinated by these birds. I remember as a kid when Dad would set up the birdhouse on the long pole in the spring and wait for the purple martins to arrive. He never had much success, but he was so happy when even a few showed up. I had to stop. I took a picture of the birdhouses and saw a man getting out of his truck in the house's driveway. I yelled over to him and asked about his houses. He smiled and said they were his. I pushed my bike over to him, and we chatted for a while about his obvious hobby. He has more than a hundred purple martins that show up every year. I could almost feel Dad’s joy. The birds arrive from Brazil, nest, mate, and hatch their babies, and then head back south later in the year. He sits in a chair next to his bird hotels and enjoys them. I asked if he talks to them. He said, “Of course! I sit there in the morning and say, ‘Good morning, have a great day!’” He was a pleasure to meet. I expressed my admiration for his bird family and told him how happy this would have made my dad. It was time to keep riding.

The morning was pleasant, and I felt like I had a good amount of energy for the day. Soon I was hitting the 20-mile mark. At 25 miles, I stopped at a small grassy spot for a quick sandwich and a drink. The roads were mostly smooth and had very little traffic. The skies were cloudy, the air was cool, and the wind was almost nonexistent. Later in the day, the breeze picked up, but it was never more than a slight annoyance.

I was just over 30 miles in when I came to a turn in the road with a "road closed" sign. I thought to myself, "This day might just get a bit longer." There was a worker sitting in a lawn chair, and I never figured out what his job was, but I assumed he could provide me with some information. After inquiring about the closure, he said I would need to turn around and find another way through. I don’t give up that easily. I asked if I could at least push my bike through the construction. He replied, “You might be able to, but I don’t know.” I said thanks and proceeded to ride ahead. Soon I was at the construction site. They were tearing up one side of the road and had some equipment parked on the other side. I simply acted as if I knew what I was doing, got off the bike, and pushed it past the parked vehicles, ignoring the workers. Soon I was past the construction and back on my bike. That sure seemed like a better solution than serious backtracking. By the way, on a bike, backtracking is always the last option—and I mean the last option. Did I say the last option? Just ask Dana how many times that mantra has gotten us into trouble! However, you don’t really need to believe her. I pushed on.

I passed a number of catfish farms as I was wrapping up the day. I was about 10 miles out when I got a text from Dana saying she was at a nice coffee shop and relaxing there. I asked if she checked out the town, to which she replied that she had just arrived due to a road closure and rerouting. I smiled and said to myself, “Backtracking is always the last option.” I was fortunate that a bike could get through, but for her, she really needed to backtrack.

I arrived at the coffee shop and ended the day with a hot dark chocolate mocha.

We are parked at a Y Not Stop. It is a regional small truck stop and they assume there will be overnighters. There are a number of trucks and then us. We don’t mind, they have restrooms and I will have another great breakfast in the morning.

We have heard this town has some amazing Cajun food and that on weekends there is lots of live music to enjoy. This is a Thursday, so we will need to stick with the food and assume the music is lovely as well. We first went to Fred’s lounge thinking we would get some food there. Well it was just a bar, and an interesting one to say the least. We told them what we were looking for and one of the guys said he had just what we needed. Damian told us where to go and he and his buddies laughed when we said we had never had crawfish before. We bought a bad full with two seafood balls. The balls were spicy but super delicious. Well that was an experience!

Until tomorrow, be kind to some random person. You never know what they might be going through.Read more