Showing posts with label swamps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label swamps. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Swamp Buggy Badass

I just heard the phrase "swamp buggy badass" recently, and now it's stuck in my head. I mean, what badass could be badder than a badass driving a swamp buggy?

One of my cousins, years ago, was married to a guy who owned not one but
two swamp buggies. They lived in a double wide at the edge of a swamp in some unincorporated area in southern Florida. There was a gravel road leading up to the place, and a pond in front. My cousin is a good decorator, and it was a cute home. Her husband had a Belgian last name and bright red hair. He worked for his family's landscaping company, and as I remember from the wedding, his grandmother didn't speak any English. He had a few chickens I think, and maybe a pig, and he liked to hunt and fish. He always had a few snake skins hanging over the railing of his back porch.

He had a pit bull who was really friendly. The dog liked to swing, by his jaws, from a rope swing that hung over the pond. He was going to take me boar hunting but we never got to go.

Things got rocky with their marriage, and he started quoting scripture. A short time later his dog went belly up in the pond, snakebit. They divorced a little while after that. My cousin is now happily remarried with two beautiful children. Long story short, I never got to drive that swamp buggy.

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On our first day in New Orleans we left town and drove up to the north shore of Lake Ponchartrain. As part of my ongoing narcozoology research I wanted to head into the gum and cypress swamps of Louisiana. We headed for the outskirts of Slidell and met up with the good folks at Honey Island Swamp Tours. They'd gotten us close to alligators before, and I hoped we'd get close again.

I've visited two kinds of swamp, mangrove and cypress. Mangrove swamps cover much of the Gulf coast of Florida, and the Keys. The mangrove swamp is a beautiful but scary environment, and I can't imagine living in one.

Cypress swamps, on the other hand, are, to me, some of the most wonderful places on earth. Beautiful submerged forests.

We set out on the Pearl River, and headed back into the bayou. It was a glorious morning, sunny, breezy and about 70 degrees. You can see the plucky and intrepid MizBubs sitting up toward the bow, unafraid of nutria rats, or alligators, or snakes falling from trees, or giant catfish leaping out of the water and whacking her in the head.



We headed up one of the bayous into the swamp. Here's what the swamp looked like going in:



Within minutes we were face to face with this fellow:


This gator was about 15 feet long, and is one of the older gators in that part of the swamp. He had just emerged within the past couple of weeks, according to our guide. He regarded us in the cold, dead-eyed way that alligators do. Sensing that there wasn't a single steroid user or crackhead on board, though, he soon went on about his business.

As we headed further into the swamp, the water turned darker, and we were enveloped by the smell of the swamp: dark smells of mud, thousands of years of muck and death and new growth, tides rising and falling, a hint of brine, wet leaves and bright floral scents emerging from it all, just long enough for you to notice the sweet fragrance before it wafted away. I love the way a swamp smells. It moves me.

Along the way we saw more alligators, small ones only 4 or 5 feet long, basking on logs:




Did I mention snakes? We saw a few of those, too, but I only got a blurry snapshot of this non-venomous water snake, also out for his George Hamilton moment in the morning sun:



We saw some beautiful birds, egrets and herons, and the majestic bald eagle.

I remembered at some point to look up and take in the trees:



Did you know that Spanish Moss was used at one time to stuff cushions, and as building insulation?

We emerged from the swamp, shook the snakes out of our hair and clothing, and cruised up the river past some of the fishing camps. The picture that graces the top of this blog was taken on a trip up this river in 2004. Sadly, Katrina sent a strong surge up the Pearl River, and a lot of these camps were destroyed. I could not find the place you see pictured above, and I think it was a casualty. We did see some other future compound sites though:



After a couple of hours the tour ended, and we returned to the dock. On our drive out, we passed the Saigon Noodle Soup, advertising French-Cajun Seafood Platter. I know this may surprise you, but I don't stop at every single restaurant I see. I regret not stopping here to check it out.


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Next stop: the greatest roadside attraction east of the Mississippi, the UCM Museum!

And now, enjoy a little swamp buggy badass, courtesy of New Orleans' own Quintron and Miss Pussycat:




Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Screw it, I guess I'll stay


When I ran to MizBubs and told her that I'd received several mocking comments after baring my heart and soul to you people, she told me I had it coming, and that my plan rated a 9.7 on the hare-brained meter.

Oh well. Guess I'll just stick around here.

My favorite law enforcement event of the year started today--the annual ILEETA conference. I spent today being certified as a Management Of Aggressive Behavior instructor. Tomorrow I'll attend some workshops, and then Thursday I'll attend an armorer's class. I refrained from doing a lot of the hands-on physical training this year.

This time last year I was high on swag. This year's haul was less impressive, with far fewer flash drives, pepper sprays and laser pointers in the goody bag. I did get a leather duffel bag, a leather briefcase/laptop carrier, and a bunch of logo polo shirts, sweatshirts and a jacket. Best of all, I got a "Don't Tase Me, Bro" tee shirt. And an NRA law enforcement logo tee shirt, which I love because it can simultaneously identify me as both a gun nut and a cop if I ever wear it out in public. I saw a tee shirt with this excellent quote, and it expresses how I feel about the job I do:

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
--George Orwell
And now, a soothing swamp picture:



I took that in a bayou off the Pearl River near Slidell, Louisiana.

I still have to tell you about my new favorite dive bar, my ecstatic experiences at Graceland and Sun Studio, our favorite roadside attraction and a few more random New Orleans stories.

Thanks for stopping by.




Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Greetings from Fat City

I am a techno-tard, so all my plans to blog from my laptop and upload tons o' cool pics from the southland have gone right down the crapper.

Instead I am sitting in the Bastille Internet Cafe on Toulouse Street while the girls nap.

A brief update. Let's put this in the category of why I love Louisiana. Last night we passed by a fellow cooking something delicious on a grill outside some restaurant in the French Quarter. A lady asked what he was cooking, and as I passed the reply came:

"Char-groiled oysters."

And today, while driving out to a swamp tour, we passed a strip club called "Scuttlebutt". Yes. Someone down here thought that "Scuttlebutt" would be a first-class name for a titty bar.

That's it for now. See y'all soon.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Ten Favorite Things

It's been a while since I got on one of these things. Lulu, Wonderturtle and Tenacious S have all composed some wonderful lists so far.

Here is mine:

Ten favorite things starting with the letter S:


The Sazerac. I've mentioned them before, and in my opinion it's a perfect cocktail:

  • 2 oz rye whiskey (bourbon will do in an emergency)
  • ½ oz bar syrup
  • absinthe (you can use Absente or Herbsaint)
  • 3 drops Peychaud's Bitters
  • Twist of lemon peel

  1. Put a few drops of absinthe in a rocks glass and swirl to coat the glass.
  2. Mix the whiskey, syrup and bitters in a cocktail shaker over ice until chilled.
  3. Pour into rocks glass over two ice cubes. Rub rim of glass with lemon peel.
  4. Enjoy!


Sex: Well, duh. Seriously, I'm fascinated with it, all its complexity, joys and horrors. My love of all things sexy and sleazy is ironic, though, given that I'm also offended by the increasing pornification of our culture, and I'm fairly modest in my personal life.


Slot machine noise: That exciting, omnipresent noise inside every big casino. Every once in a while I'll hear something that reminds me of it—a cell phone ring, a video game—and I'll be instantly transported to that wonderful moment when you first walk into a casino.


Skillets. Big iron skillets. We have a nice collection of well-seasoned cast iron skillets, and I use them nearly every day. They feel great in your hand when you're cooking, and they have a great old look. Plus Wanda Jackson had a great song about beating her husband with one.

From My Big Iron Skillet:

There's gonna be some changes made
When you get home tonight
Cause I'm gonna to teach you wrong from right

With my big iron skillet in my hand
Gonna show you how a little woman
Can whip a great big man
If you live through the fight
We're gonna have when you get home
You'll wake up, and find yourself alone


Sweet tea: Summertime in the south. I can only drink it when the temperature goes over 90.


Sunshine: I've always liked being outside, and I dig that near-blinding sunbaked feeling you get in places like Las Vegas, or the combination of sunshine and water in places like the Florida keys. I seem to crave it more as I get older.


Photobucket - Video and Image HostingSwamps: Why am I so attracted to a landscape that, frankly, scares the shit out of me? Snakes and alligators. Fever, bourbon and decay. Mmmm... I've been in mangrove swamps in Florida, and Cypress swamps in Louisiana. I like the cypress swamps better.



Shotguns: BOOYAH! There is not much in this world more fun and satisfying than shooting a big-ass 12 gauge shotgun. I own two of them, a Remington 870 tactical shotgun (think Ving Rhames in the Dawn of the Dead remake) and an antique Winchester Model 12.

Splatter movies: The wetter, the better. I want so much gore and grue flying off the screen you feel like you need a raincoat.


Summertime: And the living is easy. Catfish, barbecue, sweet tea, drinking on the back porch. Sleepy dogs.