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| After publishing the pictures, minus any explanation because I was tired of writing to the void, David wrote back. His genereal message was echoed by several others in slightly differing intensities ranging from sweet syrup to outrage. Ray D. wrote, "More eye candy, but the neurons ain't firing". I know the problem.Those that wrote, usually do, so they have a license to vent at whatever setting. Dave, "Ok, the pictures by themselves don't cut it, it's the dialogue that makes the things worth waiting for...you can see pictures in a travel brochure if thats what you want...without your running commentary it's just a bunch of unrelated woodsy stuff, old stuff, wierd stuff, graveyards etc.etc" I take that as a license to bloviate: (newest best word, thanks Bill O'Reilly) |
| Imagine an Irish accent. It was a beautiful November first in the year of our Lord, two thousand and six. I dont' know why I did that, maybe O'Reilly? Or, I guess it could be the approach of St.Patrick's Day to which I have no connection and I never celebrated because I'd always get beaten up for not wearing green.This created in me a disdain for all things Irish though I must tolerate my wife and Ray Fagan if indeed he is Irish, the possible invalidity of which he has alluded. She is Irish and reminds me daily. "I am but a scorned Irish woman", she says.. Maybe, now, you'd like to go back to "just the pictures"? |
| I was at my daughter's, God save her, as this beautiful first day of November presented itself. I thought that it was indeed not a day to be wandering the house, but one to commune with the glory of Nature Herself, bless her be. At this point I'm going to try to cool it as the Irsh brogue is getting pretty deep, preceived or not by you. It's like a song you can't put away. Ahooom, deep breathe. |
| Locally, say within 40 miles of her house is the Honey Island Swamp. I've been there before, so you have, too, being I take you most places I go and hardly ever complain. I did, by the way, drop a few likenesses of yourselves off into the swamp. So, if you start to itch, its just swamp rot that you've got. It isn't terminal, right away. |
| From the north or the south, you get there by going to the town of Pearl River exit, then go north a little way on I-55 and follow the signs. You will be entering the park on what remains of US.11, the reason for my return. After discovering that US.11.......... |
| left historical leavings here and there, a further appreciation of this route was in order. In the picture above the one above, parts of one of the old bayou bridges can be seen. |
| To the right are the pilings and bridge which suppported Old US 11. through the swamp. |
| Some trees require tall pictures. Katrina shortened or lay to rest many tall trees. Honey Island Swamp was very near her pathway. |
| Old US.11 was a straight road relying on a totally man made backbone. There was also a railroad bed through here somewhere, maybe. |
| I got to where vehicles could go no further. |
| See the old bridge supports? Topo tells me that this is Indian Bayou, still a few miles from the Pearl River and the Louisiana and Mississippi border. |
| The remains of the old guard rail werer stll there. It must have been a grand crossing. Imagine the old cars and trucks crossing the endless swamp. There you go. |
| Honey Island Swamp |
| Old US.11 |