The_Loop

I have been known to "go on" about things I like. The Garmin US Topo map software is one of them. But, it does have a fault. Roads get hard to see from the bike seat while moving when you are in an area with a lot of relief. I had to look closely. I backed off the "detail" setting and it helped some. Then I worried about losing roads along with the less detailed contour markings. That was the first time I had to deal with that problem since there are few contour lines in south Louisiana.I'm sure it can be fine tuned into "acceptable". The software is perfect for the pupose of exhibiting the nature of the area I was in and the labeling of natural landmarks is exceptional.

Coming down Lower Woodville, which had morfed into a paved surface again, I came to a "crossroads". At this point let me point something out that just came to me. "Intersection" is a city word. It's a yankee city word. I don't hear it used much in Mississippi. "Crossroads" offers two fewer sylables to have to deal with and when it gets hot in Mississippi, the fewer things to have to deal with, the better. Ok, to make my point, think "intersection". Now, think "crossroads". See! Point made. Hallelujah.
At the forementioned crossroads, I spied the name Hutchin's Landing Road. That is the bait the catches this old catfish.

Across the bridge it was time for "mild gravel" again. "Gravel" is not simply "gravel". I can see Jason, Andy, Carl, Voodoo, Rider X, Ray and the other Ray nodding their heads. Gravel comes in all forms. It can be "light" with the stones only in the center of the road with the tracks consistiong of pulverized stone packed hard. Next, gravel can cover the whole road lightly. That's ok, but not Nurvana. Then, as it thickens it gets worse until it becomes a sea of ball bearings that have to be plowed through. Then, if sand is thrown into the mix, good old river sand, it becomes lubricated ball beaings. Then, a true torturous road is LIMESTONE. Tires have told me that they thought they were in HELL when I abused them wth that stuff.
Notice "shell" is not mentioned. Shell was the perfect road surface if you had a good pair of sunglasses. I bet half of you have never seen a shell road. Those of you that have carry with you a special memory. They are few and far between and may not even be legal anymore.

This is a shell road. Picture taken from Here

Things were looking up. Pretty and wild was ahead.

I love it when roads set up mysteries and tension. Whoa, everything in moderation, now. Lots of tension caused by the mystery of whether you'll survive falls outside that "love category".
Alone and stuck where no other fool goes, except in hunting season, is dumb. But then there's always the chance that Fred will come along. I'd rather stay stuck. Just kidding, Fred.

Ok, look back at the map at the top of the page. See all those brown lines. The closer together they are, the steeper the hill. Ain't that useful. When they are real-real close, it's a cliff and there are cliffs out here. Topo says I was at 160 feet approx.when I took this picture. The bottom land, below, is at 49. Do the math. Ten feet equals a "story" in a modern building. I was on the edge of the Ellis Cliffs.
The highest point I could find was 328 feet. That to 40 something makes a big hill. It is all loess.

When this scenerio presents itself, how can you resist?

Down at the bottom I came to this: Sibly HQ to the left and Butler Lake to the right.

The presence of a HQ was reassuring. Of course, some HQ's are not occupied almost ever. Some are a tin building with a tractor in it and a dumpster. I was optomistic and traveled on.

I was hoping I could get to the Mississippi River and see Hutchin's Landing. Huchin's Landing might have been on the river at one time. The river moved like a snake before it was contained by levees so many places were left high and dry. Long story short, I never made it to the river and never saw a landing except a dirt slide into this little lake.

Speaking of high and dry. At least the surface was dry.

     I thought I'd taken a picture of where I ate by the lake. Either I did and it didn't take or I didn't and it never had a chance to take. I did find one of my water bottles had opened and filled the plastic container that holds my stuff. I freaked when I found no food. Man! I'm slipping. I had left some Veener Sausages that David had given me a while back in the bag as an emergency meal. I opened them suckers and woofed them down like candy. A longing for some crackers was almost overwhelming.
     Which reminds me, I never-never litter. A bolt of lightening will stike me dead if I do. I enjoy the beauty of Nature too much and realize what litter animals can do to her. If I did litter it would not be because I'm an ignorant jerk, it would be intentional.
     Side note, beer cans don't burn, Fred.
     All that brings me to the main point of this thesis: The opened Veener can with all the juice and Veener gelatin is still on the bike.
     Gee, I hope I haven't started a maggot farm in my saddlebags..

   I exited and refound US 61. See the sign, what do you find a little strange about it?
I have two ideas I'll run front-you. (We often leave out prepositions in south La. It gets hot there, too)
The first is this, and it's born of all the Civil War stuff I've been doing all along:
    The main road is called Hwy.61 and not US.61 in lew of a resentment of hated Federalism.
The second is this:
    The guy that did the sign is a Bob Dylan fan.
     Which reminds me of a time I was in Austin and went by Holly Street. Someone had written "Buddy" in front of "Holly" on the street sign. I thought that was pretty cool, being in TX and all.
If something extremely interesting pops into my head, it can't stay there long. Too crowded. Your benefit.

Here's heading back up the Ellis Ciffs. This would be an almost-perfect gravel road except for one factor. That factor would be the possibility of a sand section. When a perfect gravel road gets to looking a little too whitish, there could be a problem, especially on a big street bike with wide tires. Please, don't go and fall down in this stuff, scatch up the old lady and sue me for damages that she did to you for getting her back here and doing the get off the hard way.
I always tell my passengers to walk.
Which reminds me, I wonder whatever happened to Karen when I dropped her off back in 1965.
Darling, I never even knew you then.