Houston to Robeline and Natchitoches | 335 miles
As I stare down at my maps and the GPS routing, the thought of the crimes committed in Jasper and Vidor burns to deeply in my soul that I constantly rearrange my route to avoid them. It is indeed amazing what long-lasting effects the sins of men can have. But it is this avoidance that leads me to some wonderful roads through forests. It is indeed a wonderful surprise that keeps unfolding as the road leading to Hemphill winds through rolling hills and curves in the midst of pines and oaks.
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Into Louisiana at Toledo Bend
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Remaining under the guidance of the GPS, but choosing my own ways, I cross into Louisiana at the Toledo Bend Reservoir and discover a densly populated rookery. What a testament to God's creative hands. I am blessed today whith Him riding along, providing unforeseen surprises and feeling His Love in my life. Continuing on LA-06 I arrive into Robeline, where I stay in a 'transplanted home' where ladies wear funky colored boas and hats for tea time. However, today, I am the only guest and the boas and hats remain on their pegs on the wall.
Robeline, LA
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Natchitoches, LA
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After unloading my saddlebags and tail pack, I proceed towards Natchitoches, just 14 miles down the road, but not before being warned by the lovely inn-keeper, to keep my speed within limits 'cause we have the radar here'. On the way out I discover a young locust on the stairs, which brings memories of my more tropical upbringing. I arrive into Natchitoches to find most of the stores closed in the heat of the afternoon, making my goal of having some venison Natchitoches meat pie become one of the number of targets that will be add to the list of those to hit on another trip. I still find my way to the Cane River and my heart gets softened by the sight of a boy and girl, seemingly brother and sister, sitting on a bench, just hanging and feeding the ducks.
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By five pm I find myself eating meat pie and dirty rice at Papa's Bar & Grill while Fleetwood Mac blares in the back. From here, it is time for some more riding in the Natchitoches neighborhood, taking roads through modern plantations, with silos shinning in the late afternoon sun, and corn already way past knee-high by the fourth of July. Nearby, two horses are set to pasture next to a 2X sign by the tracks. And while my camera captures the visual aspects of the moment, the essence is something that needs to be experienced, just as the crimson glimmer of the red shouldered black bird that flies back and forth over the road, from his perch by the tracks to the endless rows of jade colored parallels of corn.
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At the end of the day I am sitting on the porch at Robeline, drinking tea, enjoying some brownies, listening to the roar of the cicadas, while Yolanda Adams sings Victory,and Hidalgo rests shiny under two oaks.