Pax Gaea Human Rights World Post

Thomasville, GA to New Orleans

On Friday, we were able to get a little more motivated in the morning and on the road from Thomasville, GA by 9 a.m. We continued our byway meandering to Highway 90, described by Pen as the "Route 66 of the South". This beautiful four lane travels west through undulating rolling hills dotted with pines and horse farms. We followed 90 throughout the morning and early afternoon, grabbing lunch at Pensacola, FL. Since we are traveling with a dog, we're fairly limited to fast food but we grabbed some take out and ventured along the Pensacola coastline to Bay Bluffs Park, a lovely overlook in Pensacola. A series of stairs and walkways take you almost to the shore and then you make your way down a steep path and across a set of railroad tracks and there you are... with this magnificent view of Pensacola Bay. Heavy black clouds and a terrific thunder and lightning storm chased us from the bluffs and we finally decided to travel a little of Interstate 10 just as a thunderstorm warning proceeded to inform us that we were in a very dangerous storm with wind gusts expected up to 40 miles an hour. The rain came in blinding sheets, so much so in fact that visibility dropped to just a few dozen feet. We slowed to about 15 miles an hour, slightly faster than the 10 miles an hour the storm was traveling and emerged in front of the storm in about 15 minutes. While it may have been wise to pull over, the fear was that the storm was supposed to be growing even more intense throughout the afternoon and with virtually no visibility, we figured it was better to get out of it than sit it out on the side of the road with those massive gusts whipping against the load. In mere minutes the sky was blue and we picked up speed until we found our turn off just across the Alabama border which took us back onto Highway 90.

One of the first turn offs we encountered on 90 was for Bayou La Batre, made famous as the home port for Bubba Gump Shrimp Company in the movie "Forrest Gump". Beautiful little rural towns dotted the highway as we crossed into Mississippi and we were in bliss... until Highway 90 suddenly came to an end. We checked the maps for an explanation. We pulled off the road to inspect and we could see the source of the unexpected halt.... the entire length of 90 lay in pieces, toppled like tinker toys across the entire length of Biloxi Bay. As soon as I get the pictures developed, I'll post them but to say the sight was shocking was a bit of an understatement. We made our way back to Interstate 10 and across Biloxi Bay and turned back towards 90 once we reached Gulfport. We weren't sure how long we could travel 90 but we were immediately made aware of the view to come as we cruised down the ghostly empty strand that passed along the coast of Gulfport.

The best way to describe the Mississippi coast beginning in Biloxi is a bomb blast. Except for a few trees and stone staircases, the entire coast line was virtually scoured of manmade structures. Odd sections of a pier or jetty remnant remained and, miraculously one wharf where an entire fleet of shrimp boats lay tethered ready for another day's hunt. Beyond that and the shattered husks of a few of the high rise casinos that were bent and tattered but unbowed, Katrina completely changed the face of this section of coastline. A year later, clothing and metal still suspended from the treetops of the remaining old growth oaks. Periodically, a house or two was in various stages of reconstruction. Here and there a FEMA trailer cast a lonely figure on what was once the foundation of a substantial home. We followed 90 until, once again, we came across a barricade that brought the highway to a halt. We turned back, traveling 4 miles and turned inland on a road indicating the way to Interstate 10. Along this tiny two lane road were campaign signs for various candidates for mayor and sheriff. And I was struck by the notion... in this vast empty stretch virtually devoid of human life, exactly what potential constituency were there candidates hoping to reach? The final strains of light were filtering through the trees along this twisting two lane highway and it was easy to see why people were so drawn to live here along the sand and swamps. The strains of Scottish and Irish folk music filled the cab of the truck from NPR, provided a sad but fitting soundtrack as we came through the community of Pass Christian. Abigail provided a running commentary of the sights to Eleanor as Pen snapped pictures and I drove in silence. Behind me, I could hear the soft cries of Elea who thought all of it, the images, the words, the music... was all just too sad.

We returned to Interstate 10 and continued on to New Orleans. Passing across the Lake Poncetrain causeway brought home the gravity of these last 100 miles of our drive. The beauty and magnificence of this vast stretch of open water and this feat of engineering, itself totally devasted by Katrina and just recently opened to traffic, carrying us into this city experiencing a rebirth. We checked into the La Quinta in Metarie. The emotional toll of the day, the weather the images, wore me down and I collapsed watching a documentary on sharks on the Discovery Channel.

We woke this morning to reports that, once again, storm cloud were heading our way so we quickly made our way to Downtown New Orleans. We wove our way through the streets of the French Quarter, slowly coming back to life and found a parking spot for our slightly oversized rig just off Bourbon Street on St. Philip. We were so amazed to find New Orleans weather absolutely perfect, warm but not dramatically hot, virtually no humidity, perfect. We made our way to Cafe Du Monde, sat at a table next to the sidewalk so we could tie Rommel just outside the dining area but next to our table and enjoyed the growing parade of people, native and tourist passing by. We dove into a plate of beignets and black coffee with chicory, and enjoyed Rommel's popularity with the passers by. We strolled along the Riverwalk, taking a picture from the exact spot where President Bush delivered his post Katrina prime time speech with Jackson Square in the background. A festival was taking place in the French Market and we wandered around, enjoying the sounds, sights and smells of New Orleans and taking pride in the determination of a people who hold only one goal... to rebuild New Orleans to her per-Katrina glory. We watched as storm clouds gathered in the distance and decided we needed to see the 9th Ward for ourselves. I headed off in the wrong direction but found a man on a bicycle who appeared to be local to ask for directions. He and the woman on the second floor of an ancient home pointed me in the right direction but warned us... to be careful over there. We made our way back across the French Quarter, crossing over a set of railroad tracks that demark the 9th Ward. At first there appeared signs of a recent destruction here and there, doors and walls still wore the spray painted markings indicating that a home had been searched and found empty... and here and there... indicating the signs of a fatality. The sky opened up and we found ourselves in a section devoid of power and traffic signals so we opted to head back to Metarie, figuring that the worst of the devastation was either out of view or merely a reality etched into our minds by the wall to wall coverage of the aftermath that ran and we absorbed from CNN. It was as we mounted the ramp which takes us back toward the Interstate 10 and our hotel, with a bird's eye view above the neighborhoods, that we could see the devasted homes and communities still years, if ever, from recovery. As the rain pelted down on our windshield it was then we could see for ourselves those destroyed roofs and walls that opened us to continue the aquatic erosion of these homes forgotten and untouched by the government and insurance companies that owe some measure of recompense to the tax payers and policy holders that had once occupied them.

We returned to the hotel, fast food bags in tow and talked about what we had seen the last few days. I want the girls to absorb all that they are seeing. I want them to see and understand that beauty and music and life can coexist side by side with destruction, silence and sheer devastation. I want them to know that it is only through sheer will and determination that people and places bounce back no matter what man and nature may throw at them and that those who rise above it must do there part to reach out and offer a hand to those who likewise hope to rise up.

I may not give much stock to the supernatural but I do know that I have seen magic these last few days. I have seen how light, a stark image and an appropriate piece of music can bring tears to the eyes of a five year old girl and a 41 year old man. And, in all this devastation, I am seeing rebirth. I am watching the rise of one phoenix after another.

And it is awe inspiring.

posted by Dave Carroll @ 8/05/2006 08:57:00 PM