From Azaleas to Zydeco: My 4,600-Mile Journey through the South

The Road to New Orleans

The Road to New Orleans Before heading to New Orleans, I decided to swing by Avery Island. The island is home to approximately 2,000 people and is still entirely owned, I think, by the McIlhenny family. The island is one of five salt domes rising above the Gulf and is, quite literally, a mountain of salt surrounded by swamps and marshes. The salt is mined from a shaft 530 feet deep. Live oaks on Avery Island 291 It costs a dollar to get on the island—which only entitles you the opportunity to pay more money if you want to see how Tabasco sauce is made or, if you prefer, tour the 250-acre Jungle Garden. Since they don’t offer tourists trips into the salt mines, I chose the Jungle Garden. Unlike the nearby mainland, Avery Island has rolling hills, with huge live oaks, the Spanish moss hanging from their great limbs. The Jungle Garden of Avery Island boasts the world’s most complete collection of camellias—no fewer than 750 to 1,000 varieties on the island—and thousands of azaleas. The Jungle Garden began when Mr. McIlhenny, the island’s owner, began Bird City. In the late nineteenth century, plume hunters had nearly wiped out the egret population supplying feathers for ladies’ hats. In the spring of 1892, Mr. McIlhenny captured and caged eight young egrets to watch them grow, mate, and nest. At the beginning of the next migratory season, he released the birds. They migrated to South America where they spent the winter. In the spring, they returned to nest on Avery Island. Today, 20,000 nests are located on Avery Island for the annual return of some 20,000 egret families. Egrets at Bird City 292 On the far side of the Gardens is Bayou Petit Anse, a good-sized waterway. Just off the Bayou are the lagoons, where the alligators hang out, relaxing in the water and on the bridges. In addition to studying and saving the egret, Mr. McIlhenny studied alligators and wrote a book titled Alligator’s Life History in 1935. It’s on sale at the Garden’s Gift Center, a must-have for your basic herpetology library. Most of the photos are of very large alligators. One shows a forlorn man near a typical alligator’s nest and on the next page, another shows a worker opening the nest so the photographer can take a picture of the eggs in the nest. The second doesn’t show the man’s face, but I’m sure he’s no more comfortable than in the first photo. It’s difficult to comprehend how much work it takes to maintain a parklike quality on 250 acres. Every area is manicured. It’s a lot like Central Park, except, of course, for the presence of alligators and the absence of Baby alligator sunning itself 293 people. I shared the island with fewer than a half dozen tourists. And no noise: It’s a very quiet place, and you can wander in any direction with only alligators and birds as your company. And bugs, there are lots of bugs. As I wandered around the Garden, I thought about the Journey being half over. Washington DC was at least 1,200 miles away. I was about as far away from Washington, literally and figuratively, as I was going to be on the Journey. The Piedmont and mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee were a distant memory. Here in the land of alligators and moss, the humidity rivals the Delta’s, but no one would confuse it with the Delta. I had been on flat land for a long time, with just a few rolling hills interspersed. From here, I would be traveling toward DC, rather than away from it. I wondered if I would see any real hills before Atlanta. I bought a Coke and Mr. McIlhenny’s book on alligators and took off for New Orleans on U.S. Highway 90. Out in Cajun Country, U.S. 90 is a new four-lane, divided highway without the limited access of an interstate. Driving these divided highways is easier travel than driving on interstates because there are fewer trucks. Since the highway is relatively new, it bypasses the big cities on the route. Cities may be too strong a term because they’re large towns, really. Morgan City and Houma passed quickly...