For the past five days Kat, Jackson, and Pink have camped at Bogue Chitto, a south Lousiana state park off blue highway LA 25. It’s ten miles north of Folsom (not the one with a famous prison) and six miles south of Franklinton. Bogue sounds like Bogart’s nickname, and Chitto rhymes with “ditto”, not “Cheeto”. Unlike our previous Louisiana parks, Fountainebleu and Riverside/Fairview, you get some serious quiet five days a week at Bogue Chitto. And there’s fresh water fishing in deep abandoned gravel pits, biking on paved roads, and all kinds of hiking if your knees are up to it.
A couple days ago we had our Leer tonneau cover installed. The pictures of Pink do her justice; mine border on a misdemeanor. The cover really dresses up the Red Sled while giving us some secure, dry storage space. I suspect that the very van-ness of her truck is why RV Sue (and the Canine Crew) refer to their puller as the Perfect Towing Vehicle: it has enough power and plenty of storage.
The Red Sled has crazy power and adequate storage. That’s a fair trade for the mountains, we hope.
Kat bought a Black Widow fiberglass cane pole Wednesday. It came with line, a sinker, a float, and a hook. Bait was extra. Neither of us has ever had much success fishing, and this week has been no exception. But Kat did catch A Fish! Being newcomers to blogging, we forgot to bring the camera, so you can’t see how close our catch and release fish came to being a keeper. (About four ounces, in my book.) She caught a lively white perch on a worm and was deservedly pleased with herself.
Today we rode our bikes 6 or 7 miles on a wildflower tour. Despite having grown up in this state, I had no idea that wild azaleas grew here. This park has plenty, along with enough other specimens to hit our goal of a dozen different flowers per bike ride.
The short chunky thing other than the turtle in the pictures is Rosie. When I first saw her I thought “This is the first armadillo I’ve seen leashed up and wagging its tail.” Rosie is a miniature pot-bellied pig. The guy fishing in his Bud Light pj’s is her papa. He and we agreed that only in Louisiana, or New York City, can one order a beer and fish wearing pajama pants. Here. it’s laid back. There, it’s chic, or maybe deranged.
Vive la great outdoors!