Dixie Transforming

For the few readers who may be wondering, I haven’t ignored what has been happening down in Louisiana.  You know, the oil spill stuff?  Thousands of jobs lost?  Seafood industries soon to be obliterated?  Wildlife suffocating under brown muck?  The future of Louisiana teetering on the brink of disaster?  Sigh.  Yeah.  I’ve simply been stewing for the last several weeks, trying to figure out a way to get this entry down.

I left Louisiana for Oregon on April 18, 2010, just a couple days before the epic blow out at the BP undersea rig Deepwater Horizon.  Had I anticipated this scoop, I probably would still be down in the bayous today trying to cover the story of the year (a story that happens to address my research thesis for this fellowship trip pretty darn well!).

Earlier in the spring I’d driven along coastal Louisiana hopeful to see some of these fabled rigs out in distance.  For me, a researcher of the South’s economic-fueled landscapes, the opportunity to capture the image of these floating virtual cityscapes was extremely alluring.  Sadly, from the vantage point I chose at Cypremort State Park, I couldn’t see them at all.  I was warned I would need to move further east to see anything – words of advice from an Army Corps of Engineers watchman I met at one of the Old River Control facilities. So I left the South in late April with only a faint idea of what the oil and gas industry means in a physical sense – the closest I got to an actual rig was in Morgan City, Louisiana where a retired (outdated) rig named “Mr. Charlie” is open to curious visitors like myself.  The rig functions as a museum and public outreach facility.

Morgan City's oil rig museum - modern rigs are exponentially larger than this old relic.

Oil and gas extraction is huge business in Louisiana and the South in general.  The diagram below describes the presence of offshore oil and gas rigs along Louisiana’s coast:

Over 3500 oil and gas rigs are in the Gulf of Mexico. Deepwater Horizon is just one of these.

As an avid radio listener, I’ve gotten downright depressed listening to the seemingly endless interviews and feature stories about forlorn shrimpers, oyster guys, and fisherman of lower Louisiana.  These people are some of the most dedicated, self-reliant, and earnest workers I’ve ever read or heard about.  They are not modern people – they are old-fashioned in terms of their global footprint and worldly ambitions.  But they sure know how to work a shrimp boat, which makes them a rare breed in today’s workforce.

One of the most remarkable things about  Louisiana’s coastal fishing communities is how tied to the landscape their members find themselves for their everyday existence.  That close relationship with the land is what makes the situation so much sadder.  With the inevitable arrival of oil into the marshes of coastal Louisiana, shrimp breeding and fishing grounds will be decimated and likely closed by government officials.  Considering forty percent (40%) of the U.S.’s seafood is harvested off the coast of Louisiana, it goes without saying that more than just shrimpers and fisherman will be put out by this oil spill.  As consumers, we will probably have a hard time finding seafood at an affordable price in the coming months and years.

The intertwined relationship these fishing communities have with the oil and gas economy is not unrecognized.  Some of the best paying jobs are on oil rigs and most these communities have members who depend on them for their livelihood.  Many shrimpers work rigs on the off season.  This fact may explain the even-keeled nature of the public’s comments on how BP is handling the capping operations and pending clean up.  Restrictions on future oil drilling is just as much a threat to the communities of coastal Louisiana as is the oil slick arriving in nearby marshes.

As for me, I’m hoping Louisiana’s bad luck changes course real quick.  I would be downright happy if I didn’t hear any news out of the state for a long time save for Super Bowl victories and everyday indecencies on Bourbon Street.

I got snowed out today and most of my plans were foiled, so I’ve been sitting around being reflective of my travels the last couple weeks.  Reviewing my many notes and scribbles, I realized I never made a well-deserved post about the little Cajun community that lived on the other side of the levee from Lake Fausse Pointe State Park.  Anyone leaving the park on their way to Interstate 10 has to drive through this neighborhood.  Herman Dupuis Road is really one of the only roads out of the swamp.  And I’m so glad that was the case…

The first time I passed through my attention was immediately drawn to the unique handmade home signs that are posted in front of each and every residence.  A simple, prominent phrase is the centerpiece of the sign’s design and more or less encapsulates the resident’s operational philosophy.  Care is taken to decorate them with the appropriate materials and colors, but that doesn’t mean they end up looking neat and tidy.  In many cases the words almost run off the sign, an indication of the casual handworked style that prevails in this neighborhood.

I would have taken photos of these signs, but, to be quite honest, one needs to be a bit careful about stopping their car on roads in remote parts of Louisiana to take photos of private property.  It could get you into trouble, or simply just shot.  I leave it to the reader to use their imaginations to visualize the possibilities for each of the following signs:

1. Black Pot Camp
2. Dad’s Pad When Mom’s Mad
3. Camp Flo
4. Cajun Castaways
5. A lil’ Piece o’ Heaven
6. The Hideout
7. Tac-u-lait
8. Beers R Us
9. His ‘n Hers
10. A Lot to Cock About
11. Calm Down
12. Tranquil Spaces
13. Funny Bidness
14. Coonass Yacht Club
15. Playin Hookey
16. The Tomato Patch
17. Timeless
18. Taj Mah Foul
19. Cat’s Meow
20. Never Home
21. R+R on the Butte

It is immediately obvious from simply passing through that these folks are quite proud of their modest homes and waterfront plots, and use a self deprecating way of communicating to both outsiders and their fellow neighbors about where they see themselves within the bayou landscape.  I assume these neighbors are aware that their street is traveled by many newcomers to Cajun country; it makes me smile to think at their creative efforts to welcome and share a small bit with each passersby.

In case you noticed #14 with the phrase “Coonass Yacht Club” and are wondering what the heck a coonass is, I will attempt to explain.  A coonass is an endearing term that Cajuns use to describe themselves.  They are “coonass”.

As silly as it sounds, I think it’s about right.

St. Bernard Parish, one of the most Katrina-devastated “counties” in outer New Orleans, has embarked on the largest tree planting campaign in the parish’s 203 year history.  Funded by Apache Oil’s tree grant program, Parish Councilman Fred Everhardt is administering this program that began earlier this month.  In less than 6 weeks, with volunteer and Americorp assistance, Everhardt anticipates planting approximately 140,000 Bald Cypress saplings.

The tree planting program is a future first line defense to protect against hurricane-related storm surge.  Cypress forests were common in St. Bernard Parish before they were toppled for development, fed to the mulch and lumber industry, or were compromised by oil/gas excavation.

Yesterday morning, on President’s Day, I joined about 50 college age and family volunteers along LA 46, just past the urban edge of the parish.  Wearing rubber boots, we planted saplings in teams of three (one hole digger, one planter, one ribbon tie person).  It takes about 30-45 seconds to plant a sapling in the swamp ooze.  You can even plant them in several inches of standing water.  The trees can be fast growers in their youth, slowing with age.

By an account of all the cypress saplings I could tally, our group planted about 1000 trees, with plenty more stacked up waiting to be turned out to the swamp.  I wonder how many trees will survive?  Someone told me that many of them become food for swamp rabbits, and only a few will emerge as adults.

On Sunday afternoon I drive 75 miles northwest of New Orleans into Iberville Parish during the heat of Mardi Gras. Here I was going to experience one of the most quintessential landscapes of all Louisiana – the river of trees – the bayou – the swamp. And let me speak plainly: it was worth every friggin’ minute of missing out on those much sought after parade throws.

The journey to Bayou Sorrel was in of itself an experience I’ll remember.  I must have driven past 2 mega-size oil refineries, 3 Walmarts, a couple ATV repair shops, a handful of fried chicken and live bait places, and more trailer studded highways than I ever thought possible in the span of two hours.

I organized a boat tour with Dean Wilson, the official Atchafalaya Basinkeeper for LEAN (Louisiana Environmental Action Network).  I learned about Wilson’s environmentally based tours after reading a 2008 Mother Jones article describing his work to preserve the cypress swamps of LA from illegal clear cutting.  The tour was fantastic and I highly recommend it to someone curious about the economic and environmental vulnerabilities of landscapes that are just beyond the public’s radar.

A few of the most interesting points from the tour:

1. Cypress and Chinese tupelo swamps offer the most effective and cost efficient storm and flood surge protection for all of coastal Louisiana.
2. Cypress and tupelo swamps act as critical incubators for nearly 40% of all the seafood consumed in the continental United States.  Yes, 40%!!
3. Cypress and tupelo swamps are critical flyways for migratory birds traveling from South to North America and back, acting as nesting, feeding and mating grounds
4. Cypress and tupelo swamps have been plundered by the wood chip mulch industry, who has acted to meet the skyrocketing demand for landscaping materials as part of the housing boom of the early-mid 2000s.

When I mentioned to people in New Orleans that I was going on a swamp tour, many of them rolled their eyes.  The typical New Orleans excursion swamp tour is a day trip for kids and hunting types, taking place on a high speed, noisy air boat where the tour leader taunts gators with rotting fish parts – the tour approximates a video game scenario for experiencing the swamp.  I must argue with them that Wilson’s tour is not at all noisy, rambunctious, or detrimental to the peace of the bayou.  We learned a great deal about these magnificent trees, the place they have in the hearts of the people of Bayou Sorrel, and the risk we are all exposed to when they are cut down for a one-shot paycheck.

Visit my Bayou Sorrel photo album here.