Biking River Road: New Orleans to Baton Rouge
"East Bank" - August 18th, 2007
by Taylor Lasseigne |
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| Grammercy Bridge (click photo for detailed view)
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| One of several markers along the river noting estates that were reclaimed by mother nature via the Mississippi River.
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Further down the river, I came upon a cluster of very old buildings. A marker reads:
LUTCHER. Established in 1891 by H.J. Lutcher, co-owner of Lutcher & Moore Cypress Lumber Co. The town, incorporated in 1912, grew around the sawmill built on the plantation of Pierre Chenet, developer of world-famous Perique tobacco.
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Standing between these old buildings is an original sugarcane grinder. The placard reads:
SUGARCANE GRINDER. Donated by Al Robert, Burnside, LA. Restored by Dee Jenkins, member of St. James Historical Society, with help from many dedicated people. Especially Bill Clopton, owner of "On the Spot Welding" Lutcher, LA.
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| Grist mill stone as seen at the base of the sugarcane grinder in the previous photo.
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| click thumbnails to enlarge |
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| Old kettle for boiling sugar.
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| St. Joseph Catholic Church in Paulina, LA
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| Paulina water tower.
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| Large Live Oak growing on the Mississippi River levee.
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| I took a detour into the brush between Paulina and Convent. The overgrown grassy path spit me right out onto the banks of the Mississippi.
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| The semisolid sediment beneath my feet was crusted from the sun but barely firm enough to hold up my weight. With every step closer to the river, the silt gave way more and more until I no longer felt it was safe to walk further.
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| A view north along the Mississippi.
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In Convent, LA I came upon a site that took me by surprise - the Manresa House of Retreats. A marker across from the gate reads:
MANRESA HOUSE OF RETREATS. Since 1931 the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) have operated a retreat house here for the spiritual development of the laity. The grounds and several of the buildings were the site and home of the Jefferson College founded for the education of the youth of St. James Parish.
The main building dates from 1842; the President's House and Gate Houses from 1836.
After Jefferson College failed in 1848, Louis Dufau of New Orleans operated the Louisiana College here: this college failed in 1856. In 1859, Valcour Aime purchased the site and erected a chapel in memory of his children. From 1862 - 1864, the Federal Troops occupied the buildings during the Civil War.
In 1864, Mr. Aime donated the properties to The Society of Mary (Marists) who established St. Mary's Jefferson College, which operated until 1927, when it was closed.
The Jesuits purchased the properties in 1931 and since that time have conducted retreats based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. Each year over 5,000 laypersons, religious and priests make retreats here
For the Greater Glory of God
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I was caught off guard by it simply being there. I didn't know there was a huge Catholic retreat space along the Mississippi. Also, believe it or not, I think the deep-seeded divinity of the grounds healed my woes. No kidding, when I arrived at those gates, I was a mess: head throbbing from extensive heat exposure, lower back screaming from the jolts of River Road, eyes stinging from the constant drip of sunscreen sweat, skin crimson from relentless summer sun, and hands cramped like rigor mortis from prolonged intense clutching of handlebars. With only about one third of the journey (45 miles) behind me, I was already beginning to question my ability to complete the trip. Could my body take this kind of heat and exertion for several more hours? I thought about all the times I was stricken with heat stroke as a kid, bed ridden, useless, and once or twice even dragged by my parents to mystics called "traiteurs" or Cajun faith healers. A typical visit to a traiteur included prayer, laying of hands, waving of arms, and some sort of concoction. I barely remember these visits, but one thing I do recall was that I never thought it was foolish. Prayers and potions are easy to dismiss as hocus-pocus, but if you could have seen the traiteur's earnest demeanor, you would have believed too. I was fever-free the next day.
Then, I paused there in the shade, staring down the column of oaks, and poured cool water down my neck, arms, and ankles. I sat down for a few minutes under an oak and let the breeze and the dowsing do its thing. After a while, I was good as new! No cramps, no heat exhaustion, no stinging, only a newfound motivation to get back on the bike. So what healed me? Were these grounds blessed by over 150 years of devout occupants: first the Marists in 1864 then the Jesuits in 1931 to present? Did I simply need to catch my breath and cool down? Either way, I was no longer daydreaming about scaling the gate, sneaking into the Manresa House, and commandeering a bed for the night. I was once again focused on traveling up the river to Baton Rouge.
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