Traveling to Lafayette

This morning, a pea-soup fog greets me as I open the window covers to  watch the sunrise. And when I say pea-soup, I mean so thick, I feel like someone has transported our van into a big grey box - there is no more beach, no more birds, though I can still hear the waves beyond the fog. What it hasn't done is gotten rid of the mosquitos, who are now congregating by the hundreds in the air vent above my head. Thank goodness that thing has a screen!

By the time we pack up the camper, batten all the hatches(which has become a thing before every take-off now), and eat breakfast, the fog has not left, but the sun is now shining, so find ourselves in a glowing grey box as we drive down the beach and back onto the  roadway hugging the coastline. It clings to the vehicle as we drive through Galveston, past the big resorts, the colourful houses, the beach shacks on stilts(and I use that word very loosely, these are certainly no shacks!). It begins to release its hold as we pull up to the free ferry crossing to the Bolivar Peninsula, which is very welcome, as we climb up to the top deck to get a view of the surrounding bay and the birds following the boat. The wind is getting warm, and the sun feels good on our skin that has been craving warm weather since we left home.

A quick stop to mail postcards on the Bolivar Peninsula, and and soon the roadway curves north, away from the Gulf of Mexico, away from the water and the sand and the gulls. We are heading inland, up to Louisiana. One last thing, though - donuts. We have been seeing these Donut shops everywhere, and have been wanting to see what the fuss was about. A quick searching finds one just before we reach the interstate, so we stop in for lunch snacks. We get sausage kolaches, very much unlike the ones we tried at Buc-ee's - these ones are like hot dog buns, baked around a cheesy sausage. They are delicious, though. We also get a cinnamon twist and an apple fritter to snack on later, when we find good coffee again. Mario has had several run-ins with bad as station coffee, including hot beaver water at Buc-ee's, and something even worse at a place we chose not to remember the name of, it was so bad. Therefore, we are being extra careful where we stop for coffee now. But yes, the donuts are definitely worth stopping for, though I would not make it a habit. 

Through the cities of Beaumont and Orange, and then we are crossing the state line into Louisiana, without so much of a sign or a fanfare. With is disappointing, but there is a lot of construction, so maybe the sign has been put away for safe-keeping. Who knows. We find solace in coffee at the Starbucks in Sulphur, and also a few food items we needed, like milk and yogurt. We watch the countryside go by, more agriculture than ranching, and definitely less fossil fuels here, which is a nice change from all the derricks and emptiness of Texas. We spot flooded fields surrounded by levees, and question whether they are for rice-growing, like we saw in Vietnam, or perhaps something else. A quick search pulls up info about crawfish farming in flooded fields after harvest, and wonder if maybe that might be what we saw. We also see truckloads of what can only be described as small crab traps, some of which are IN the fields, which only proves further our theory on the crawfish.

I try my best to navigate, while arguing with Google as to the best ways to get to Lafayette. Obviously, Google wants us to follow the interstate, which is faster and larger, but so boring, and honestly, not very safe with all the big rigs jockeying for position. I try to take us off onto the side roads, the secondary routes or old highways that run parallel to the multi-laned speedway. They may be slower, but they are way more stimulating in terms of both sights and population - it's amazing how much you can learn about a people just by observing their towns and villages, and it encourages questioning what we don't know about them.

I crack open the windows to enjoy the warm, fresh air. It's 24 degrees C here, and humid - feels like summer to me. And somewhere in mid-afternoon, we pull into the quaint little village of Parks, Louisiana, population 634, and cute as a button. In front of the city hall is a park that had 20 or so camping sites with water, some with electrical and all with sewers, right on the Bayou Teche river. It seems they have a Cracklin' Cook-off festival yearly, which brings a lot of people to the area, and so the sites are set up for that, but are available all year long. Better still, they supposedly cost 15 dollars a night, but only if someone from the city decides to collect the fees...We'll see what happens. 

So we get comfortable, taking full advantage of the services. We dump the tanks, and fill the water. Then we both take showers, which is still cramped, but does the job of getting us clean. We do some laundry, and sweep an astronomical amount of sand out of the van. We have a glass of that fresh, crisp Fleur Sauvages white from Becker vineyards, along with an assortment of pistachios and pecans from New Mexico as our 5-à-7, sitting out by the calm waters of the river. Once the sun sets, we cook up a hearty chili using the last can of beans from the free food scavenged waaaaay back in Los Angeles when we first picked up the van. It seems like ages ago - and we are still enjoying #vanlife(can you write that without the hashtag anymore?). Let's see what new adventures tomorrow bring.