Above was 1910, below is 2010. Same place.
Here's the story:
Al and Tilly had been bedroom furniture shopping all week long with little or no success. Poor Al, being worn, frayed and withered, called me asking if I'd take him along on the next ride. His tone was so pitiful you would have taken him for a ride. Sunday morning arrived. An hour early, here comes Al in his 1964 VW Micro Bus shaking the neighborhood with East L.A. Low Rider music. He was obviously up for the occasion and his hair was perfect, doing the werewolves of London look, again. After exchanging 15 variations of hi-fi low-fi, no-fi at all handshakes, he settled into unloading the leftover Halloween candy he had hidden under the table when the last trick-or-treaters came to their house.
I, on the other hand, was less than ready. I hadn't come up with a plan being one that never plans, not needing them or adhering to them when I have one. For some reason, when I ask others to tag along, I feel like I, having the misguided reputation of knowing where I'm going, should at least plot an enjoyable route for my fellow motor bikers, who after all, are friends of a sort. Instead, I came up with a terribly boring route soliciting boos, a thrown brick and hurled insults until the day was saved by the destination, the DeQuincy Railroad Museum.
Fellas, the yellowish wet tire was not funny and over the line.
Fellas, the yellowish wet tire was not funny and over the line.
We prepared to leave. The temperature had barely risen into the 50's which is cold for us South Louisiana riders. I told Al, who likes to ride in his "wife beater" underwear top, that it was coat time. He went to the back of the VW and pulled out a tux jacket with sash. It was going to be one of those days. I told him "offshore cold" to which he responded with appropriate clothing including his tin hat and a wink, "just joking". I don't know who's playing whom in these exchanges.
Next stop was Mark's house. Mark is always ready to go but he is so laid back a stranger might think that maybe he's still contemplating the possibilities which could lay ahead with Al in tow. Why wouldn't he?
Al, dismounted, poured himself some coffee out of his tank bag thermos while he and Mark commenced talking about the weather, the beautiful fields, sky, the state of Louisiana and other soft pastel pastoral settings and subjects. I never removed my helmet thinking that at any moment the plan, which I had divulged, would come into focus. I entered the conversation once saying that I bet the sky was blue in DeQuincy, also.
Louisiana coffee is different. The condition it creates is past manic. The serious connoisseur is buzzing so that there seems to be no movement at all, only a low hum alike a bee or humming bird. I turned the hose on them which seemed to contract their pupils a bit while gaining their attention. I asked if maybe we could leave to which they begrudgingly agreed.
Louisiana coffee is different. The condition it creates is past manic. The serious connoisseur is buzzing so that there seems to be no movement at all, only a low hum alike a bee or humming bird. I turned the hose on them which seemed to contract their pupils a bit while gaining their attention. I asked if maybe we could leave to which they begrudgingly agreed.
La.104 was conveniently at hand which is a wonderful motorcycle ride. Past Mamou we continued to La.26 and dove south to Elton where I turned west short of US 190 and rode behind the rice dryers where I saw acres of skinned trees kept wet by a sprinkler system. There was a spur coming off the main line to it. The spur did not seem active and further investigation is warranted. I'll be back. Very strangely our track shows up atop the main line when applied to an old railroad map. So, the road we came in on, for a while, was laid on top of the early Missouri Pacific rail bed. I'm not kidding.
Riding down US 190, we came into Kinder where Al started laughing at my train magnetism. It's true, I'm not so good with the ladies, but trains come flocking like I was a warm sidetrack in the midst of winter. If so, then why do they always leave? The trains I mean, dummy.
We had ridden over 100 miles at this point. A break with a little excitement was in order. I sure hope my little pictures translate the moment for you.
I become unusually excited about the presence of a train.
There have been suggestions made. I left my two companions,
gravel flying and engine roaring. I reached the corner just
as my front wheel lofted rendering me powerless to turn.
Upon landing, I skidded into one of my now famous U-turns
and headed toward an unknown place to better view the
slowly moving train.
Yes, manual switch moving is still practiced. Why?
Does the fireman now switch?
Fireman Bob was out of a job, so to his boss he gave this pitch:
I know there's no fire or steam but why not let me switch?
I may be surmising, but it would not be surprising
that switching by hand was not a compromising.
I didn't write that.
He gave me that "are you a terrorist" stare. Yea, I came
from Breaux Bridge to Kinder to terrorize you. Some of these guys are cretins.
But, can you blame him? I was riding one afternoon in
But, can you blame him? I was riding one afternoon in
west Mississippi and came upon a school for Muslim converts
in a black community. Tell me that the organizers were
not drawing off a bank of historical hate and channeling
it for their own purposes. If in backwoods Mississippi,
why not Kinder? You never know.
He hopped on the train doing a great Leonardo DiCaprio hang over the bow.
Would he go straight to Alexandria or turn to the east and
go down US 190? The bridge is US 165.
It was going very slowly.
It stopped. It also cut us off from going west.
And the clock has cut me off from going west, also.
More tomorrow.
But never fear, you are in the middle of a rewrite where
continuing just happens.
But never fear, you are in the middle of a rewrite where
continuing just happens.
A preview is in order to keep you hanging on. We met
several interesting characters at the museum. I'll tell you
more about them on the next page.
This guy emerged just as we were going in. He claimed
that he had gotten on this train in 1969 and had just awakened.
He asked if he was in Kansas City. I told him to talk to the
station manager. He wandered off and we never saw him again.
Did you think I made that up?
We arrived at the museum after enduring long and
straight US 190 and La.12. Al remarked that he didn't
realize it was so early, seeing the clock on the pole at 9:00.
He also asked if we were at the Alamo.
I panned a bit to the south to avoid the cellphone guy. Why
do they walk down the middle of the streets? It's like they
are saying, "Look at me, I have a cell phone and I am
important since I'm talking to someone." Dude, I don't think
Donald Trump is on the other end of your call. No, he was old
and can't hear so he's looking for a spot with better reception
which he'll never find as varying locations does not fix deafness.
The museum /depot sits appropriately in the middle of the
junction. But, there was something missing.
First, the yellow line is us in the parking lot west of N.Holly.
Switching our path over to my old map, you can see that
there was a crossover rail going from the south, the
Lake Charles branch, to the southwest, the Port Arthur branch.
We had found the depot closed. It was Sunday morning about 11:45.
We walked around back which was the loading area for
the depot. The black board on the right was .....
........this.
I thought I should at least take some shots through the window.
I placed my camera to the pane and rebounded when
I saw an aging Alfred E. Newman sitting there.
We continued walking around. Al wanted to get up on the
stage being his conception of life, and look around.
Of course we made a beeline to the car.
We could go this far, it was locked up, also.
Standing there brought back fond memories of the one
train ride I'd taken as a kid with my grandmother.
Al wanted to return to the stage where he preformed a
a song from "Cats". I was so happy that we did not have
company although a mother and her kids were across the way.
Evidently sound carries as they ran for their car and sped away.
In the Spring there's a big "Railroad Days" event.
We finally, after having to applaud, left the stage.
As we dismounted a gentleman approached and remarked,
"You don't seem to be from around here". We responded,
each giving our personal addresses which seemed to verify
his assumption. Then he offered to give us a personal tour
after he unlocked the door. We learned later that his
immediate recognition, that we were not from around there,
originated from the fact that he was a three time mayor of
DeQuincy and evidently knew everyone from the extensive
vote soliciting that position must require. He had also been
a railroad engineer for 30 years, a position which further
qualified him to guide us around.
The next pictures are whatI took.
Our tour was interrupted by throngs of people
The next pictures are whatI took.
Our tour was interrupted by throngs of people
beginning to set up for some occasion which had been planned
before we got there so no hard feelings came from that.
Museums overwhelm me. They are too much at one time to
assimilate. My wife will meticulously examines each piece, I can't.
The builders had left their mark.
Stuff.
They had recently found this old Lionel set up and were
selling it. We were now in the storeroom.
Alfred was still trying to get it done.
The depot was built during "Segregation". The white side
was a bit larger and had 2 restrooms. The black side was
smaller and had 1 restroom. Both had ticket counters.
The Missouri Pacific was in town also. Had they shared this
depot. Thus, the MP calendar?
* I never did investigate that.
* I never did investigate that.
Here's the rail set up now, first, and then, second.
The KCS comes from the north and branches, as I said,
to the southwest and south. The MP/now Union Pacific,
comes from the east.
This must have been a terminal point for the Missouri Pacific
as all other rails leaving DeQuincy are marked KCS. What
agreements they had, I don't know.
Our guide had been a MP employee.
The artist, Raoul, agreed to a photograph. He's a Tiger fan.
The board below is a little confusing. I'm sure it has to do
with scheduling? (an affirmitive statement followed by a
question mark is meant to reflect on this website)
Why was "Sobriety" included? Was it a sensitive
matter which they wanted to address?
These models were either on loan or donated. They are
priceless.
I want to drive the one on the right. It looks fast.
That may be a rice mill or dryer in the background.
Al took one more shot before we heard the horns.
This is the last page.
If you go to the museum and a train doesn't show up, the
railroad has closed down.
A KCS freight very slowly made the curve coming from DeRidder.
You might notice that I love drama. These engines can do drama well.
I even got him to blow the horn.
He was heading southwest in the direction of Port Arthur. which was
a KCS historical terminus.
a KCS historical terminus.
Angling through town in a SE direction, trying to follow the
Lake Charles tracks as closely as I could, several old buildings caught my eye.
They could have been in the Missouri Pacific yard area.
There went the rails. We'd follow them down La.27.
I angled across the top of Lake Charles as one of my fellow
riders refused to go across the I-10 bridge at Lake Charles.
He rides CO but can't do that? I won't either. It's not about
the height or the wind, but about the traffic.
My next POI was Iota where I wanted to see "Iowa Junction",
a much mentioned place spoken of on the Lafayette yard
scanner frequency.
From Railroad St., Iowa, La.
That is marked as Iowa Junction. There seems to be some-
thing missing? The bend goes up US 165 to Alexandria.
Straight goes to Lafayette-New Orleans. The the rear
goes to Lake Charles. To the south goes to south LC.
* Someone attempted to explain this recently.
I chunked it as I have my own ideas.
Don't believe everything born of the internet or imagination.
* Someone attempted to explain this recently.
I chunked it as I have my own ideas.
Don't believe everything born of the internet or imagination.
The Mundane Going Home Ride
Sugarcane ...... done.
I don't know what that business is, but the building is large.
Al knew. It is a boondoggle surgarcane mill that was built in rice country.
Huey Long is Obama's hero..
Al knew. It is a boondoggle surgarcane mill that was built in rice country.
Huey Long is Obama's hero..
US 90 East. Over and Out. Pretty good, huh?
