La.126 to 127 to Olla

Ride to Columbia Page Four

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Exiting Grayson, La.126 was a bit of a let down. I had expected the same rollercoaster diving, climbing and twisting that the road had exhibited east of US 165. It was just pretty with an occasional twist and turn. 126 is a beautiful ride through the forest and farm country. But, I might have over extended myself here. It was getting late and I'd signed up for 50 more miles of putting. It was worth it. The old church I found had been established in 1845. How many of those do you see? Plus, how many Royal Crown Cola signs in your neighborhood? You have to travel to see those.

Below, "Please, before burying anyone or thing out here, Call". I'd first seen those directions at a cemetery up in Arkansas and thought maybe I was a bit back in the woods where there wasn't a hole lot of law governing burials. Seems burying is equal to digging, but you need to call first if you do the digging/burial in an organized cemetery. I also see they spell cemetary the same way I do sometimes. Might be the "Old English" spelling, so check before you criticize.

126 meets 127. 127 goes to Olla, so did I. Olla's mainstreet downtown sits facing the railroad track. This is a very common layout where the tracks were the town's lifeline. Things got tricky here. 126 had met 127, I was good on that, then 127 meets 125 which meets 124. You can't go out on 165 because if you want to get to 124 you can't although 125 parallels 165.
Barry and a friend had been camping out in the boonies where La.124 crosses Castor Creek. The night was dark and there were noises, not the noises generally associated with possums and armadilloes, cattle, dogs, mountain lions or other four legged creatures. What was heard as the clock neared midnight, was the sound of a heavy two legged being thrashing through the southern forest tangle. Rumors of a "big foot" have circulated these woods for years and sure enough, I've seen reports of local sightings on the internet. Barry was not joking around when he told me this story. He and his companions did not get the flashights and start poking around down the dark trails, they left.

I approached the campsite and heard a roar. It was what I believed to be an aquatic "black hole". Water was disappearing, but, where was it going? I would learn as time went on. The lake which the hole was seemingly draining was very pretty in the Louisiana Tradition.

Big Foot Country? That's your call.

I reversed once again and returned to Olla where I did get back on US165. Going south toward Urania, that's right, I saw an old highway bridge and a train trestle crossing a river. I had to get to it. I may have to start considering my urges.

I went through what could have been easily a hobo jungle. It had all the engrediants, train track, water, cover, etc. The bridge was what must have been old US 165. In fact I just know it. It was blocked off as the shore was falling in. I crossed onto it over a very shaky bit of concrete. The pictures were worth the danger. I hope my insurance agent isn't reading.

Isn't that shot of the trestle spectacular? If only a train had passed.

This is a picture of the bridge that is now in use carrrying US 165. It is likewise doomed as a new four-lane is cutting these woods. I was viewing what would be three generations of bridges. It was "a moment".

If you've read this far, then you deserve to know where that water was going back at Big Foot Lake. It was going to the other side of the road where it emerged in a spectacular verticle lift. That is the first time I've seen such a contraption and it is well worth the visit.