I started off Wednesday morning with a tour of the main house at the Butler Greenwood Plantation. I was astounded that the house and land still resides with the original family. That’s a long, impressive heritage. After the tour that Anne Butler gave me, I headed into St. Francisville for breakfast and then a stroll around town.
Sitting on the back porch of the “tree house”, it’s hard to imagine that the city of Baton Rouge is just 35 miles south. To be honest, it’s hard to imagine that anything else exists within hundreds of miles from my feet dangling just over the wooden planks on the back deck, as I swing in solitude behind my cottage. The main house in front is the barrier to entry into a little fantasy land called the Butler Greenwood Plantation.
I busted out of Baton Rouge on a full stomach and fresh legs. I was able to do a little planning yesterday, which landed me at a magnificent place tonight. On the way out of Baton Rouge, something happened or something didn’t happen. Which ever way you look at it, I did something wrong and ended up on the wrong side of the tracks. A swift caning ensued.
When I was younger, I was “that guy”. You know the one I’m talking about. I was the one people told their friends about the next day. “Did you see that guy that (insert a stupid act here) last night?”
After I destroyed my knee playing soccer, I reveled in that description. I have often taken the “that guy” persona too far. I did this when I was in university with all the extra curricular activities I partook in, but there’s a fine line between “that guy” and the “other guy”. He’s the one you warn each other about on the road. I had never met the other guy until last night.
Louisiana has been another tough state. I lucked out with some good places to stay, but the weather has been crane kicking me in the face Daniel Laruso style. I’m not exactly sure what the temperature was today but at one time I checked the gauge on my odometer and it said 107 F. Granted that is in direct heat, but still, Louisiana is packing heat. After I saw that, I rested for about 10 minutes and in the shade it was still reading 96 F. That was at 6pm.
There’s a little town on the Bayou Lafourche just off Highway 90, that doesn’t get much attention. People on the highway are too rushed to get to New Orleans or too disoriented when they leave. Raceland, Louisiana is tucked just far enough away that the average person would hardly even know it existed, if it weren’t for a sign that says so. Residents here are fortunate that’s the case.
We tend to think the more the merrier, when it comes to a party. When it’s time to relax, numbers matter and big numbers aren’t welcome. A Chateau on the Bayou is the perfect place in a perfect little town to sit back, relax, and take in what everyone else is missing.
I would like to begin this post by retracting the last words that I typed yesterday. “Country mouse doesn’t like city mouse.”
What I experienced while I was in New Orleans has nothing to do with me being from a small town. I have traveled to and lived in some of the world’s largest cities. A few I have even been through on a bike. It is true that I prefer small towns to big cities but what I “felt” in New Orleans was something entirely different.
I left Long Beach, Mississippi Thursday morning around 9:30am. I had a decent day. There were a few physical and mental ups and downs. Now I’m in New Orleans. I’m scared.
I spent the latter part of last week and the weekend networking, sending out emails and getting things lined up for the next leg of the journey. Sometimes in business, not everything that we want is going the way we think it should. We need to know when to read the signs and adjust accordingly. Doing so, I learned about some cool sites and insights the past couple of days and picked up some awesome partnerships.
Hwy 90 runs along the coast of Mississippi from Biloxi to Pass Christian (pronounced Christy Anne). Biloxi is full of big high rise casinos that overlook the ocean and they gently fade away through Gulfport.
If you drive about 20 miles from the northern most point of Biloxi, through the hustle and bustle, the traffic and the noise, you’ll reach the town of Long Beach. Inconspicuously planted just two blocks from the ocean is a little bed and breakfast you’ll be wanting to call home for a quiet night’s sleep, good food and an evening stroll under the stars.