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Which means Wail Woad Walkers...if you're Elmer Fudd. Yeah, so the main road you take to get to Jason's neighborhood dead ends into some railroad tracks, though it didn't always. Past the concrete barriers, past the railroad tracks, the road continues to a gate and then another gate and beyond that the road continues into Barksdale Airforce Base. Chain link fence topped with barbwire stretches into the distance on both the left and right of you as you stand as these gates, which are merely padlocked closed. Could it really be this easy to sneak onto BAFB....one of the 15 largest US airforce bases in the world? Yes, it could.
Despite having lived in his house for a year now, Jason had never actually traveled down there to snoop, despite our interest. So this evening we did.
There is a trail that runs parallel to the fence and shoots eastward into the forest. We followed it, surmising that it was the route taken by hunters on 4-wheelers, looking for Bambis to shoot. Sure enough as we traveled through the woods, treading across dry, cracked red dirt we came upon patches of deer fur, seemingly fused into the ground. Bone fragments here and there. Even deer tracks. The trail went on for probably half a mile, winding it's way around fallen trees, sometimes becoming less defined in places where the weeds had mounted a counterattack. Finally we grew bored with it and climbed up to the train tracks. Onward...and upward.
It became clear that we WERE heading upward...or maybe the ground on either side of the tracks was simply heading downward. Either way...we suddenly founds ourselves with railroad tracks resting on a bed of white rock, and on either side a very steep decline. Should a train come...well...we were screwed weren't we? I supposed we could have jumped down, but with out luck we would have landed on one of the many railroad ties littering the forest and broken an ankle. Of course this didn't dissuade us from continuing. Jason asked what I planned on doing if a train did come through.
"Use your body as a shield."
"Gee...thanks."
In the distance we could see a bridge, and when we finally came to it we found that it carried the tracks over a swamp....something which Louisiana is known for, but you actually see very little of in the northern section of the state. Here it was...murky water covered with bright green moss...patches of red which give the water a very unhealthy sheen. What seemed to be a mushroom, the white ball of it's cap sticking up out of the water. An overturned boat...which made us wonder if the former owners were perhaps still in it....though no doubt a bit stiffer than they once had been. I picked up a rock and tossed it down into the water, listening to the satisfying ga-lunk as it disappeared into the depths.
Jason turned. "Don't disturb the natural habitat!"
I thought about pushing him in.
We walked until we found what looked like a ladder that had once been a part of a train. It had been there a while, collecting dirt and leaves. How had it gotten there? Had it just fallen off? Or maybe there had been a train wreck there at some point and the people who were supposed to clean it up just grew too lazy. Who knows. At that point we turned around headed back. We reached the swamp again and Jason tossed a rock into the water.
I looked at him, horrified, "Don't disturb the natural habitat!"
Screw it. We disturbed. Jason began flinging rocks at the overturned boat, finally landing one that rebounded off it's hull with a loud bang. I went for the mushroom....and apparently managed to snap the cap off, because the white ball floated a foot from it's orginal position before calming down again.
All in all we probably walked about 2 1/2 miles and in the course of this:
* Jason scared the crap out of not one, but two, armadillos . The first one somehow seemed to disappear underneath some old ties, which made me believe it was a ghost armadillo.
* What seems to be a one-piece bathing suit, or perhaps a wrestling uniform, was found in the rocks between the tracks. How it got there is a mystery.
*I found several rocks which look like petrifed honeycombs. I dunno, I just thought they looked cool.
*We counted 7 shotgun shells. Which leads me to wonder if it would be viable to create a unit of measurement out of this knowledge. All you have to do is find the average number of shotgun shells within a square mile of Louisiana and then extrapolate and computate and surely you could figure out something that would tell you that if you've seen 7 shotgun shells you must have traveled 3/4 of a mile. This may sound silly, but it would no doubt be workable here in Louisiana. We do have a lot of rednecks you know.
Finally we made it back to the house. And here the story ends because I can't think of anything else to write that might be remotely entertaining. I'm not even sure if the story was entertaining. Oh well.
Despite having lived in his house for a year now, Jason had never actually traveled down there to snoop, despite our interest. So this evening we did.
There is a trail that runs parallel to the fence and shoots eastward into the forest. We followed it, surmising that it was the route taken by hunters on 4-wheelers, looking for Bambis to shoot. Sure enough as we traveled through the woods, treading across dry, cracked red dirt we came upon patches of deer fur, seemingly fused into the ground. Bone fragments here and there. Even deer tracks. The trail went on for probably half a mile, winding it's way around fallen trees, sometimes becoming less defined in places where the weeds had mounted a counterattack. Finally we grew bored with it and climbed up to the train tracks. Onward...and upward.
It became clear that we WERE heading upward...or maybe the ground on either side of the tracks was simply heading downward. Either way...we suddenly founds ourselves with railroad tracks resting on a bed of white rock, and on either side a very steep decline. Should a train come...well...we were screwed weren't we? I supposed we could have jumped down, but with out luck we would have landed on one of the many railroad ties littering the forest and broken an ankle. Of course this didn't dissuade us from continuing. Jason asked what I planned on doing if a train did come through.
"Use your body as a shield."
"Gee...thanks."
In the distance we could see a bridge, and when we finally came to it we found that it carried the tracks over a swamp....something which Louisiana is known for, but you actually see very little of in the northern section of the state. Here it was...murky water covered with bright green moss...patches of red which give the water a very unhealthy sheen. What seemed to be a mushroom, the white ball of it's cap sticking up out of the water. An overturned boat...which made us wonder if the former owners were perhaps still in it....though no doubt a bit stiffer than they once had been. I picked up a rock and tossed it down into the water, listening to the satisfying ga-lunk as it disappeared into the depths.
Jason turned. "Don't disturb the natural habitat!"
I thought about pushing him in.
We walked until we found what looked like a ladder that had once been a part of a train. It had been there a while, collecting dirt and leaves. How had it gotten there? Had it just fallen off? Or maybe there had been a train wreck there at some point and the people who were supposed to clean it up just grew too lazy. Who knows. At that point we turned around headed back. We reached the swamp again and Jason tossed a rock into the water.
I looked at him, horrified, "Don't disturb the natural habitat!"
Screw it. We disturbed. Jason began flinging rocks at the overturned boat, finally landing one that rebounded off it's hull with a loud bang. I went for the mushroom....and apparently managed to snap the cap off, because the white ball floated a foot from it's orginal position before calming down again.
All in all we probably walked about 2 1/2 miles and in the course of this:
* Jason scared the crap out of not one, but two, armadillos . The first one somehow seemed to disappear underneath some old ties, which made me believe it was a ghost armadillo.
* What seems to be a one-piece bathing suit, or perhaps a wrestling uniform, was found in the rocks between the tracks. How it got there is a mystery.
*I found several rocks which look like petrifed honeycombs. I dunno, I just thought they looked cool.
*We counted 7 shotgun shells. Which leads me to wonder if it would be viable to create a unit of measurement out of this knowledge. All you have to do is find the average number of shotgun shells within a square mile of Louisiana and then extrapolate and computate and surely you could figure out something that would tell you that if you've seen 7 shotgun shells you must have traveled 3/4 of a mile. This may sound silly, but it would no doubt be workable here in Louisiana. We do have a lot of rednecks you know.
Finally we made it back to the house. And here the story ends because I can't think of anything else to write that might be remotely entertaining. I'm not even sure if the story was entertaining. Oh well.