Earlier this month, on the way home from my ill-fated trip to Grand Canyon, I took the southern route, along the Gulf coast. When I stopped for the night in Lafayette, Louisiana, I went online, found an outfit that runs boat tours into the Atchafalaya swamp, and made a reservation for the following day.
You probably know that much of southern Louisiana is swamp and wetland, created most famously by the Mississippi River and its delta. But there is another river there, and another delta, that is nearly equal to the Mississippi in regional impact: the Atchafalaya.
Just below Natchez, the Atchafalaya River peels off from the Mississippi and flows south to the Gulf of Mexico. The Atchafalaya delta is 50 miles or so west of New Orleans.
The river corridor and its associated wetland is known as the Atchafalaya Basin. It constitutes the largest river swamp in the United States — about 20 miles wide and 150 miles long.
The Basin is largely unpopulated. The few roads there follow the tops of levees, which were built over the years to corral the river and minimize flooding in adjacent areas.
Interstate 10 crosses the Basin on a massive, 18-mile-long bridge, the 2nd longest in the United States. The longest is its neighbor, the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway north of New Orleans, which is 46 miles long.
The Atchafalaya Basin is a rich combination of marshes, bayous, islands, and forests. Its waters range from fresh in the north to brackish closer to the coast. It is prime habitat for numerous species of waterfowl, fish, crawfish, shrimp, and crab.
It is home to deer, black bear, alligators, beaver, mink, otter, nutria, and foxes. Not to mention turtles, snakes, raccoons, armadillos, and opossums. It is incredibly beautiful and serene. Which is why I was shopping for a boat tour.
The Basin is in the heart of Cajun Country, and most of the fish camps, marinas, and tour companies around its edges are Cajun-run. As you soon discover, the natives are a naturally exuberant, energetic, and entertaining folk.
For the record, Cajuns are the descendants of French-speaking people from the Acadia region of Eastern Canada. They settled in Louisiana in the late 1700s after being booted from their homeland by the British. The Louisiana Cajuns have developed a rich and unique culture, with its own dialect, traditions, music, and food.
The next morning at the levee in Henderson, Louisiana, I boarded the Katherine Grace, a flat-bottom tour boat under the command of Captain Don, a friendly fellow of the Cajun persuasion who knows the swamp as thoroughly as do the herons and the gators.
Captain Don.
That day, I was one of a dozen-plus tourists aboard. Captain Don took us on a leisurely cruise into a small corner of the Basin, pointing out the flora and fauna and informing us about the history of the place. But as soon as we left the dock, Captain Don took us passengers to Cajun school.
“First of all,” he said, “Y’all gotta learn to say da name of dis place proper! Dis is de Bay-SEEN Uh-CHAF-uh-LIE-uh! Now y’all say it.”
“Bay-SEEN Uh-CHAF-uh-LIE-uh,” we repeated in unison.
“Das real good,” he said. “And, man, we got us a beautiful day here in de Bay-SEEN Uh-CHAF-uh-LIE-uh!”
And it was, indeed, a beautiful day — mild, calm, and sunny. For the next two hours, we cruised slowly among the islands. Captain Don showed us the remains of old bridge pilings and abandoned oil platforms. He told us which plants were native and which were invasive.
He pointed out the numerous shorebirds and informed us that the Great White Egret has black legs and black feet, whereas a Snowy Egret has black legs and yellow feet.
Captain Don would inch the boat slowly around a bend so we could get a quick look at a massive alligator sunning on the bank before the gator got spooked and slipped away into the water.
And, in addition to dishing up factual information, he told us Cajun jokes.
I knew at the time that I would write about my swamp tour with Captain Don. So, resourceful fellow that I am, I made notes so I could reconstruct his jokes when I got home.
More about which in my next post.
How fun! And thanks for the tip on how to tell the difference between a Great White Egret and a Snowy Egret. I never knew!
You’re welcome. I strive to be informative now and then.
Hi Rocky
When I first got out of college I went to work as a credit manager for the Agri-Chemical division of US Steel. Louisiana was part of my territory and we sold to dealers. I can’t remember the name of the town but I was there attempting to collect a large sum of money from a dealer, a nice old fellow. His desk was in an open area behind the customer counter. We were alone (except for my sales rep) and having a serious discussion about the debt when some of his customers came in. I stopped talking and he asked if I was alright. I whispered that I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his customers. He laughed heartedly and said that’s OK, they don’t speak English. Blew me away, everyone was speaking French!
I never did collect the money but Mr. Cormier (I still remember his name) had a small 40 acre plot where he grew a prized strain of rice. He gave me a five pound bag of it. Delicious. It was also on that trip that the rep, introduced me to boudin.
Thanks for bringing back the memories.
Hi, Bob. Great story. Sounds like Mr. Cormier turned on the charm to distract you from the debt.