Scotland -- Part 2, Glasgow to Glencoe

To celebrate Eric's pending graduation from University of Glasgow (he'll have a Master's in Computing Science, which is how they refer to Computer Science), Bob, Andrew, and I went to Scotland to visit him and enjoy a true family vacation. On our first trip there, last September, (minus Andrew, as he was in school) we focused on Edinburgh and Glasgow, because Eric had orientation that week and we didn't have time to venture far from the city. This time, after a day or so in Glasgow, we rented a car and made our way from Glasgow up through the Scottish Highlands as far as Inverness.

In Glasgow, I was fascinated by the juxtaposition of old and modern.

Eric says the building on the left has the most floors of any multi-screen movie theater in the UK.

Next stop, Glencoe via a crazy twisty-turny road that runs along Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park. It was a challenge for Bob, as he was new to driving on the left side of the road (and right side of the car), the road was very narrow, and the drivers coming from the opposite direction drove very fast, especially those driving large trucks and buses. But the scenery was stunningly beautiful.

Along the way, we stopped at Dumbarton Castle . . .

and this charming "farm shop" . . .

Before we got to Glencoe, we encountered a downpour. It was quite dramatic, and the most rain we saw the whole week.

Look at the grip on that wheel!

In Glencoe, we stayed at the Ghlasdrium B&B. I didn't get a photo, but it was a friendly, accommodating place with a terrific full Scottish breakfast made by our hostess, Maureen.

Glencoe is a very small town on the banks of Loch Leven in the heart of the Highlands. We kayaked there the next morning. Many thanks to Stuart (Stewart?) at Rockhopper Sea Kayaking for accompanying us on a great paddle!

Next up, Glencoe to Inverness!

Ten Things I've Learned Since Moving to Louisiana

I read this article a couple years ago on Huffington Post; Eight Things I Learned in the South. And it occurred to me; well, yeah, I've learned a few things since moving to the South, too, right! The Huffington piece prompted me to write my own post, Eight Things I've Learned Since Moving to Louisiana. (read that post here).  It's been one of my most read posts to date. 

In the past two years, I've learned a few more things, so I decided to expand on my original list. Here’s my list of TEN things I've learned since moving to southwest Louisiana. 

Mardi Gras – Yes, Mardi Gras season will soon be upon us. Lake Charles will be awash in green, gold, and purple. One of the biggest cultural revelations upon moving to Louisiana for me was that Mardi Gras is not a DAY (Fat Tuesday). It’s a SEASON of balls, parades, and a myriad of other festivities which begins each year on Epiphany and culminates on the Tuesday before Lent begins, called Fat Tuesday or Shrove Tuesday. I've posted many pieces here about Mardi Gras, because, especially at first, I was fascinated by it. Your can read  them here, here, and here.

Friendships take time to nurture. I think this is true most anywhere. But I didn't learn it until I moved to Louisiana. We came south over eight years ago. I now have many dear friends here. But it took a long time, years, to develop these relationships. If you are new to the area, or new anywhere, hang in there. I know it's hard to make friends initially. Be active in the community. Join clubs or service groups you have an interest in. Volunteer. Introduce yourself and talk with your neighbors. Find a place to worship with like-minded people. Don't get discouraged. You'll make friends.

Kayaking – In Pennsylvania, kayaking is a daring, adventurous, often dangerous sport. It is almost always associated with river rapids. I’m adventurous, but I’m also chicken, and I would never consider kayaking on white water. Here in Louisiana, there is A LOT of water. And it's all quiet and slow moving. We have tranquil lakes, peaceful bayous, and rivers that move with the tides – a perfect place for me to kayak! This is me on Indian Bayou. It was January, hence all the winter garb.

It’s not always warm here in the winter. While it’s often possible to wear shorts and a t-shirt on Christmas Day, that’s not always the case. Sometimes, that pesky jet stream dips all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Sometimes it’s in the high 20s at night and only in the 40s during the day. After living in Louisiana for several years, one becomes accustomed to being warm, and 40 degrees is COLD! But the truth is, the cold rarely lasts for more than a day or two. Then it’s back to balmy. And I always say, I’d rather be hot in the summer than cold in the winter.

People around here will eat just about anything. I guess it’s the French influence, but nothing goes to waste here. They eat the craziest things. “Cracklins" are a very popular snack. It’s fried pig flesh, people! I've tried it a few times, but I'm not a fan. Though I do eat boudin, a type of sausage made with "parts" and a spicy rice mixture. We make jokes about roadkill gumbo (possums, armadillos, and raccoons are the most common), and speaking of roadkill, I know people who have accidentally hit a deer with their big truck, turned around, picked it up and tossed it into the truck bed, took it home, and processed the meat.

If it exists, there’s a festival somewhere for it. Every kind of music (Cajun, zydeco, jazz, swamp pop are popular), every type of food imaginable, and any Louisiana animal you can think of, and there’s a festival for it in some town somewhere. I've written more posts about festivals that I could list. But here's one from the very first festival we went to after moving here -- the DeRidder Watermelon Festival. 

I thought there would be more snakes, but I never dreamed there would be THIS many mosquitoes. I occasionally see a snake in my yard, as there is a large empty field just beyond our fence line. I've never seen one out in my kayak. I have seen a few when hiking through the woods. And dead ones on the road. But I thought I’d see more. On the other hand, no one could have prepared me for the nuisance of mosquitoes. All the horror stories in the world could not have convinced me of the extent of this pestilence. The degree of annoyance varies – it’s worse after a lot of rain. It’s less so after the mosquito fumigator truck goes through the neighborhood. Sometimes, they are so thick in the air, you simply can’t be outdoors without getting "eaten alive".

Boots are a thing here, apparently. And I have yet to figure it out. But people, especially women, LOVE boots. I have not worn a pair of boots since I moved to Louisiana. To me, a native northerner, people wear boots because their feet are cold. Who gets cold feet in Lake Charles!? And yet, folks get excited in autumn at the first hint of cooler weather so they can bring out the boots. I don't own any boots. But, I'm thinking about it.

The humidity takes some getting used to. We moved here in June 2007, and I was unprepared for the heat and humidity. But mostly the humidity. The air gets so heavy, it feels like you are breathing water. But I acclimated to it. (I grew gills.)

A unique balance of industry and the arts. The first time Bob brought the boys and me to Lake Charles, we drove in from the airport in Houston. We saw the signs that indicated we had arrived in Lake Charles, and the very first thing we saw from our view on I-10 was industry. Plant after plant after plant. And that was our first impression (post here). My heart sank. What kind of town was he moving us to? But while, yes, the town thrives and bustles because of the booming industries, I gratefully learned that Lake Charles also offers fine dining, entertainment, and a marvelous thriving arts community. Theater, ballet, symphony and other musical events, visual arts, museums, parks . . . it’s all here. And we have a great time!This was an art event a few years ago, held downtown on Ryan St.

So, though I had no idea what to expect or what life would be like in southwest Louisiana when we first moved here, I've learned that Lake Charles is a terrific place to live! For even more information on this great corner of the Bayou State, check out the Southwest Louisiana Convention and Visitors Bureau website.

Indian Bayou

I and a small contingent of the Pelican Paddlers braved the chill today and ventured a few miles down Indian Bayou, from Sam Houston Jones State Park to “the island” for one last paddle in 2012. The temperature barely reached 50 today, and I was concerned I would be cold. But I dressed warm enough, maybe even too warm, and had a delightful time. My arms reminded me that I hadn’t been on the water in two months. Too long.

The bayous in Louisiana are beautiful, even in winter.

I didn’t catch any with my camera, but we saw several blue herons. Otherwise, not much wildlife. I suppose one could say one of the best parts of kayaking in the winter is that there are no mosquitoes.

I'd explored Indian Bayou several times in the past, but never before in winter. You can read about a couple of my other trips down this pristine waterway here.

Happy New Year, everyone! How are you celebrating the end of 2012?

Cayenne Kayak Challenge 2012

As many of you know, I’m in a fun kayaking club called the Pelican Paddlers. Our annual big event, the Cayenne Kayak Challenge, was held this past Saturday. We have it by Lake Charles’ North Shore Beach and invite the public, those who are interested or merely curious about kayaking. We have extra boats people can try out. And we tell them about our club.

One thing I love about kayaks – they’re so colorful!

First we have a skills relay race, where we do goofy things like try to paddle with our hands (most ineffective), spin our boats around twice and then paddle backwards (useful), move a tennis ball through the water without using our hands (why?). I’m in the red/yellow/orange boat.

Then we have a four(ish) mile race around the perimeter of Lake Charles. I won first place in the ladies division. But only because Terri didn’t participate.

Ship to Shore, a local boating store, came with donated door prizes and stand-up paddle boards for people to try. I could paddle one on my knees, but didn’t trust my balance to stand up.

We end the event with lunch, awards, and door prizes. Come out and join us next year!

Bayou d'Inde

I enjoyed a pleasant 10-mile Labor Day paddle this morning with a few friends. I and a small contingent of fellow kayakers set off from Prien Lake Park, crossed the Calcasieu River ship channel, and wound our way up Bayou d’Inde (pronounced din), took a right at Maple Fork Bayou and shimmied up into Sulphur. Our club president and trip planner called it an “urban jungle” paddle.

We saw fish and birds, not much else. Bayou d’Inde has historically and notoriously been severely polluted by nearby industrial plants. Yet, it’s still a pretty place. Peaceful. I saw a few folks fishing. I can’t imagine eating anything out of that water. The EPA and other environmental groups have been coming down hard on the local plants to curb pollution, so I’d like to think it’s not quite as bad as it used to be. Nevertheless, I hosed my boat off very well when I got home.

The coolest thing was watching the moon set over the bayou.

Chicot State Park

I had wanted to go to Chicot State Park ever since a friend of mine raved about it a couple years ago. So when my paddling club planned a trip there yesterday, I jumped at the opportunity. I didn’t see the whole park, but from what I did see, namely a camping area, the boat launch, and several trail heads, it is indeed lovely. The park is home to the Louisiana State Arboretum. There are also cabins and a swimming pool. It’s north of Crowley, east a bit of Pine Prairie, mostly in the middle of nowhere.

Something unique about Chicot, from a paddler’s perspective, is their canoe trail. Unlike a hiking trail through the woods, a canoe trail has no beaten path. You just follow the signs, paddling from one sign to the next.

The lily pads and duck weed grew so thick in some places of this swamp, we struggled to get through it. But the flowers are beautiful.

We meandered slowly, taking it all in. Cypress and tupelo gum trees provided cooling shade and protection from the sun.

We saw several blue herons and oodles of dragonflies. Oddly, we saw no turtles. We saw no alligators or snakes. And surprisingly, no mosquitoes. The greatest threat to a paddler is this . . .

Wasps. And we saw lots of them. Their nests hang from low tree branches. If you touch them, or accidentally knock them with your paddle, they’ll attack. Your only hope is to retreat beneath the water and hide under the boat until they lose interest. I hope I never witness or experience this first hand.

I wonder what happened to this luna moth’s right tail wing?

These roots of a cypress tree are called knees.

I’ve been kayaking a year now, and this was my most enjoyable paddle thus far. Louisiana has so many beautiful places. I look forward to my next visit to Chicot State Park. Have you been there? What were your impressions and experiences?

In Search of the Pink Dolphin

I belong to a terrific club called the Pelican Paddlers. We're a kayaking group really, but occasionally, some folks with canoes come along. Early this morning, we went south to Cameron and put in at the ship channel by the ferry. Dolphins love to hang out around there. And I wanted to see some. Specifically, I wanted to see the 'pink dolphin.' Several years ago, boaters in that area started sighting this rare albino. I know a few people who have seen it. I've heard it is one of only a few known albino dolphins in the world.

We paddled around Monkey Island. I asked why they call it that. No one knew.

We saw pogie boats, which are blue-bottomed vessels that catch a type of fish called menhaden. These fish, also called pogies, are rich in oil, and are processed for industrial lubricants. The waste is used for fertilizer. If you drive past a pogie plant, it smells really bad. I learned all this today.

We also saw dozens of shrimp boats.

Can you guess what this boat with the tall black yellow-tipped poles is for?

It goes out into the Gulf and the poles go straight down to the seabed. It’s a platform. Probably something to do with oil rigging. I learned that today, too.

Yes, we did see some dolphins. They were a good distance from us (I was hoping one would come right beside my boat and I could pet it -- other kayakers say they've experienced that -- but it didn't happen) and we did not see a lot of them. It's also very difficult to get a photo of them. If you look closely, you can see a fin here.

And no, sadly, we did not see the pink dolphin. Not this time.

Do you have a kayak or an interest in paddling? Come join us! We paddle every Wednesday evening during DST at 6:00 p.m. from the I-210 beach kayak put-in. And occasionally on Saturday mornings.

Kayaking the Vermilion

Have you every surprised yourself and done something you thought you couldn’t do?

Last weekend, I joined some fellow kayakers for a paddle down the Bayou Vermilion from Abbeville to Palmetto Island State Park. I was told it was “approximately nine miles.” I only started kayaking last summer. The farthest I had paddled was around five miles. I was usually sufficiently tired after those five miles. Could I paddle nearly double that? I wasn’t sure. But it was a beautiful winter day and I wanted to get out. My kayak had been in the garage for too long.

The weather was perfect. Warm and very little wind. We headed south with the current. I felt great. A few miles into the trip, someone informed me that, no, this trip was not nine miles, but actually eleven. Maybe nine miles as the crow flies, but not as the river winds. Eleven miles, huh. A niggle of self-doubt crept into my head. Could I do it? By this time, clouds had formed, the wind pushed from the south, and the tide started coming in. We were not only paddling against the wind, but against the current as well.



I paddled on. Prior to the trip, I only knew one other paddler out of our group of fifteen. We were quite a variety of kayakers – the group included a priest and his beagle, a six year old and his dad, two married couples, and an assorted mix of the rest of us. I enjoyed making some new friends. Conversation helps pass the miles. Around mile four we took a lunch break. I had no idea how long the trip would take, and, while I did have a small snack, I was wishing I’d packed more food. One nice guy shared his homemade deer jerky. That helped. Note to self – pack more snacks.


We continued on. At around ten miles I got pretty excited, thinking we were almost done. I felt somewhat tired but was doing alright. When one guy suggested we take a break, I asked, “Why are we taking a break? Aren’t we almost there?” And at that point I learned the park was still three or more miles away. (They know this via these handy GPS gadgets hanging around their necks or on their smartphones.) My heart sunk. At that point, I couldn’t imagine paddling three more miles. But honestly, I didn’t have much choice. I just kept paddling, stroke after stroke, bend after bayou bend.

Finally, after 13.4 miles and five hours of paddling, we arrived at the park! We devoured an apple pie one gal had brought. Then drove back to Abbeville and ate a much-earned dinner at Shuck’s Seafood Restaurant.

If I had known at the outset that the route would be 13+ miles, would I have attempted it? Probably not. But I’m glad I went. I learned I could paddle a whole lot farther than I thought I could. And that’s a good feeling, to accomplish something I thought was out of reach.

Think of something you think you can’t do. Then challenge yourself. Dare yourself. Go out and prove yourself wrong. You’ll be glad you did.

(Thanks to Ian Wright for photos.)