Something like that—
And discovered Louisiana has a sandy beach!
We like to travel on the backroads, an attitude of, “I wonder what’s down that road?” That’s how we discovered Louisiana has a sandy beach!
On the prowl for a Louisiana Bird and Butterfly Sanctuary so new it wasn’t even on the hotel’s ‘local attractions’ map, we headed south out of Lake Charles on Hwy. 27 to find it. With no fluid directions, we didn’t know exactly where or how far we were going.
It was gripping, going over the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway draw bridge. The road climbed sharply over flat land, then fell swiftly to wander southerly, quiet and alone. It was hard not to note the abundance of water. Everywhere.
Just when we decided no one could live here, we came to the little town of Hackberry where shrimp and crab boats docked for a day of rest. It was the last grocery store we would see.
Enter, the Sabine National Wildlife Refuge. https://www.fws.gov/refuge/sabine
The traffic was slight on this long, lonely highway. In fact, we didn’t pass another vehicle at all as we poured through a wetland of lakes and grassy channels that turned to marshes and bayou’s—mile after mile after mile of water, water everywhere.
Highway 27 was the topic to discuss: How could the road not sink into this…glub…marsh? There must be some kind of support, because, along the way we’d noticed the thick railroad ties laid at each turnout to brace the heavy equipment sitting idle for the next day’s work.
People fished and crabbed alongside the crossovers—that is, where one marsh crossed into another marsh, and where at each intersection was posted a warning: Alligators Live Here. I perked. Alligators?
Forget the birds and the butterflies—this was serious country. It was fishing country. It was crab and shrimp country, and clearly, alligator territory!
The highway came together with a large body of water, the West Cove of Calcasieu Lake, a brackish estuary so large I thought we’d made it to the Gulf. But the highway hadn’t yet ended. At a crook in the road, we stopped to snap a picture of another little sign: Welcome to Little Florida Beach…
Florida Beach? That’s a pretty tall claim. The highway ended at Holly Beach, which is on the map, though nothing indicated Holly Beach to be a town. There were no roadside fruit stands or stores or marinas or Home Depot. No restaurants or high-rise hotels to charm the beach. Just a scatter of RV Parks and a few stilted houses. Hurricane Rita, turns out, took most everything out in 2007.
We followed the road to the beach—into an RV Park. It wasn’t the kind of RV Park thset up for the night. The RV Park patrons who live here fish untethered by politics or organized events or anything that whistled louder than a steaming pot of gumbo. These folks lived quasi-permanent enough to take their houses with them if they have to get out fast.
We found no Birds and Butterflies Sanctuary or Visitors Center or indications of such to come. There were no sun-bathers or swimmers or picnickers. Just one lone man sitting in a chair, holding his beer, staring at the ocean, grasping a fishing pole. The beach beneath him was lined with golden sand under a golden sun.
My toes yearned to wiggle in the sugary, sun-bathing-worthy seashore. I paused to read the brief notice attached to the fence: How to Behave—Some people just need to be told.
The sand was warm between my toes, tantalizingly familiar to Florida’s silky sugar-sand beaches. I needed a quick picture. Quick! because I suffer from alligator terror…and those tall, marshy grasses grow right down to the sandy bank of Gulf of America’s waters. Perhaps that behavior sign was for them?
Regardless, I was over here and the truck was over there. I snapped my picture and ran https://www.visitlakecharles.org/things-to-do/outdoors-recreation/
beaches/
Driving the still-sandy shoreline, we scanned the many rocky manmade breaks where birds could perch undisturbed. We spotted a few on rocks that may have once been part of a sanctuary. Could be, The lines of rocky outcrops were rip tide barriers to protect fishermen from dangerous Gulf currents that could sweep them out to sea. We were told there were no butterflies —it was too early. Or too late. At any rate, they weren’t there.
Our way out from the beach took us back through the RV Park where my eagle eyes spotted another sign: Meaux’s Shrimp and Crabs. Mr. Meaux takes his shrimp boat out every day, except today, when he was there mowing his RV lawn. Mr. Meaux, turns out, had some shrimp to sell. And I, luckily, had some jingle in my pocket.
Forever alligator-conscious, and on the look-out, I had to ask, “Do you ever see alligators, this close to the ocean?”
He jumped on that with fire in his eyes. “My little dog was almost grabbed by an alligator just last week! A big fella.”
(Ah-ha! So I am wise to be vigilant!)
“Did you eat it?” I’d tried fried alligator once and it was very tasty, very
meaty. Not what I expected.
“Nope. I had to eat gator so much growing up that I can’t eat’m no
more. I have gout.”
Meaux, a man in his 80’s, possessed a spirit of the sea and the marshes, and understood my asking. He was the real deal—a crabber, a shrimper, and a dog lover! with years and years of personal shrimp-craballigator experience. The dog was likely his side-kick, and went along every day to share the adventure, and lived to tell his story. (I made that part up.)
A truckload of men pulled up as we were packaging and icing our shrimp. They were there to buy crabs—going fishing for Redfish—which is different from our Texas Gulf Red Snapper. I had to Google Redfish because I couldn’t imagine a drum’s mouth large enough to grab a crab. Maybe Meaux kept little bait crabs. I didn’t ask. I was busy packaging shrimp.
So, yes. Louisiana really does have a sandy beach, and lays claim to people whose love for the marshes and bayous and everything in them hold them there. This area of the Louisiana Gulf hosts a migratory bird and butterfly pathway called the Mississippi Flyway, so it’s probable there will, one day, be a Visitor’s Center. We may not know the dates they’ll land, but the birds and butterflies do, and don’t need a sanctuary to tell them how to get there, even if that area does have bad rip currents. The sea furnishes the seafood we love, and the oil-rich land beneath provides a way for us to get there.
I forgot to mention the sizable blood-sucking mosquitos big enough to pan fry. They get smacked around a lot—
A trip to remember.
