Along Forgotten Paths

The route was just obscure enough that there was not even a Welcome sign. But the Cajun accent that greeted me at a roadside stand serving shrimp and crawdads told me exactly where I was. Other clues were that a county was now a parish, a dentist’s office was in a house trailer and Linda Ronstadt’s “Blue Bayou” was playing in my head. It was not on my itinerary to explore Louisiana, but as I traversed its northern width, a siren song began calling my V-strom 650 south toward New Orleans. The conversation between the voices, murmuring into each ear from my shoulders, went like this:

“It’s a four-hour ride one way on the bike.”

“Yeah, but it’s a four-hour ride one way on the bike.”

And that settled it. Highway 71 led through small towns like Montgomery and Colfax, as well as through the congestion of Baton Rouge. Approaching “Nawlins,” I began to see moss hanging from every tree and the highways became long, low bridges that skimmed above the spillways and bayous below. I checked into India House Hostel,