Another Busted Trip

Yet another PWC trip logged onto the canyoneering board...

With a new year, it was time for a new ride; once again it was GL and myself trying to push trails in to some new waters. We had already established a short list of rides that we wanted to punch out for the coming riding season(and up through the next few years) - mostly one day, ass-haulin' 200 plus milers, a few possible one - two day trips, and one 1K mile, 5 night trip.

After a little debate we decided to log the trail from his house across to the west side of the Spillway up to Butte La Rose. This is the "bottom" leg of a run we have planned that goes from Alexandria, LA all the way down to our river homes just south of Pierre Part. Butte La Rose, a small community perched on the western boundary of the Atchafalaya Spillway, is the only chance we would have for fuel on the water. We had noted two routing options for coming home, and today's ride would insure the trail we would take - our only major obstacle, for this portion of the ride, would be the Bayou Sorrel locks. This lock is used to permit travel between the two water ways of Belle River and the Atchafalaya ICW, which are separated by a common levee.

With the bikes, fueled up, and the racks loaded with extra fuel, we departed GL's home and idled out the canal to Lake Verret. I noted that the air temp. held at 46 deg. and the water temp was 51. The two would meet for a brief moment later in the day for a high of 55. We were both layered in full wet suits, a life jacket, and then a full thermal suit to top it off. With a front passing through the day before, Lake Verret was being buffeted with a fair breeze straight out of the north. We tacked due east in the lake before making our turn for the north. By attacking the waves head-on, our ride was quite bouncy, but easier to handle. Working the one to two foot chop, we crossed six miles of open water and arrived at the Hwy 70 bridge in no time. We continued up the Grosbec, and finally made Belle River in less than half an hour from leaving GL's place. We continued due north, passing through the isolated community of Bayou Pigeon, LA, and finally making it to the Bayou Sorrel Locks.

Although our original plan was to cross over to the Spillway side, luck was not with us. We noted that no less than three barges were in line

and waiting to use the facility. GL, being a ship captain, informed me that two of them were carrying hazardous materials which would mean we could not "lock through" with them. In other words, we were looking at a possible two-three hour wait... trip busted: We couldn't take a chance of getting on the other side, then have to deal with another traffic jam on the return trip, and risk spending the night on the levee. After a few minutes of debate (and picture taking) we opted to continue north in the Belle and make a run for the end of the river at the locks in Port Allen, LA. We were hoping to get off the skis and have a pic. of us with the I-10 Mississippi R. bridge serving as a back drop.

We continued our trek north, passing through some more secluded and unnamed river communities. Travelling along, I noted a store or two that sold fuel, if needed, although a short portage would be required. At about 1:00 PM, and approximately 41 miles north of our starting point, GL signed for a restroom break. Just off the east bank of the river, we found a small island with an old house sitting across from it, along the river side. Unknowingly, at the same time GL was dumping some "juice", so was his PWC battery... crap - dead battery. Now "Plan B" is sunk... We tried to revive the battery via cables hooked up to mine, but to no avail. Although we had pushed some new water, we realized we would have to turn around, and end the trip just twelve miles short of our goal.

With GL in tow, I headed south at a leisurely pace of 28 mph, soaking him in the tow rope's rooster tail for the entire trip back - luckily, for him, his outer shell was water-proof. GL had made a phone connection before we began operation "KawiTow" and had a friend en route to Jack Miller's landing eight miles to our south. Once we arrived at Jack Miller's, GL confirmed that his friend was on his way and at that point we parted ways.

While not nearly as dangerous as exiting a cave or canyon, I was a little apprehensive about travelling the thirty-five plus miles back home, solo. But there was nothing to debate in the matter, so I promptly left GL and headed south. With the exception of two deer hunters, I was totally alone on the water ways. Although I initially took my time cruising home, once I passed the By. Pigeon bridge, I let the ponies loose and kept the bike at a steady 55 to 60 mph pace. I felt much relief upon reaching the Pierre Part Bay bridge; at least a solo break down would now omit a hike-out... GL and I had agreed that in the event of my bike failing, I would try to call him, cell to cell, and, if that wouldn't work, I'd hail him over the VHF radios that we travel with.  Feeling better, I looked forward to battling Lake Verret, only this time I'd be travelling over the back of the waves, running before the the wind.

I made GL's house in less than an hour from leaving him, and within ten minutes, he and his friend pulled up, with his Kawi on the trailer. While the trip didn't turn out nearly as successful as we'd hoped, we still pushed some new trail and managed to post just over eighty miles on a fair, winter day.