A Dream is Crushed & A Po Boy is Eaten

Day 2: Ocean City to Venice to New Orleans

A flooded road, a failed sticker mission, and two po boys later—this day on the bike didn’t go as planned, but maybe that’s the point…

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Sleeping was just a wee bit hellish. It stayed hot for hours. I unrolled the sleeping bag for no reason because it never took part in the night. I laid on the sleep pad and sweated and listed to a WTF podcast until a slight breeze picked up and I was finally able to get to sleep. I got up early, and headed down 90 toward my vague destination. Rode through Biloxi and was surprised at how pretty the coastline was. There were tons of casinos, but it was pretty.

At a certain point 90 was closed so I had to jump on 10, head through New Orleans, and then turn south. I stopped at a McDonald’s for a coffee and wifi. I was excited about two things this morning. 1. I wanted to get to the end of the road to the “southernmost drivable point in Louisiana” where the road ends near where the Mississippi dumps into the Gulf. 2. I wanted a legit po boy. So I headed toward Venice. I’m not sure what I expected out of the road down there. I think I was expecting Spanish moss, weird industrial stuff, and remoteness. The first 50 miles or so of 23 south were kind of gross. Strip malls and traffic and not at all what I was looking for. Then it started to thin out. I knew the Mississippi was off to my left, but there was a levy the whole way. I passed a couple of gravel ramps that went up it, but I didn’t dare take the Wing up any of them. There was just no access. I hopped over to Hwy 11 which followed the river more closely and the weirdness levels grew. Old dilapidated neighborhoods, broken boats in driveways, and the occasional person walking down the side of the road in the blazing heat - one of them with a two by four over his shoulder. Twice on the river side, a mansion would suddenly appear and then be gone and replaced with a refinery. A strange mixture. I made it to Venice, the last little town and kept going. It was only about five more miles to the end of the road. Gorgeous herons floated off the road as I approached and flew over the marshland. For such a dumb goal, I sure was excited. Then I came upon this view.

At first, I just gunned it which is why I’m surrounded by water. But it was too sketchy for the Wing. I watched a huge truck coming toward me, and the water was over its bumper down the way. And this water went as far as I could see. I was .4 miles from the end of the road. I stood there letting the salt water soak into my shoes and socks while I went back and forth between going for it and making a wiser decision. The road I was on was called Tidewater Road. I took out my phone and looked at the tide table for the area. It was 11:10am. High tide was 11:25am. I would have to wait a good three hours if I wanted to get to the end of the road. I wanted to get to the end of the road, but not that badly. My dream of a photo of the bike by the sign and another placement of one of my stickers in a weird place was shot to hell. I shed a few tears. I also yelped with joy that the Goldwing has a reverse gear - because I’m not exactly sure what I would have done otherwise.

I drove away, and two miles later I turned around and went back. Fuck it. I’m going for it. When I got to the spot, a UPS truck was coming toward me and it was struggling. I knew there was no way in hell I could make it through. I turned around again, put my tail firmly between my legs, and pouted in my helmet. Would it have been worth riding all the way down there to put a sticker on a sign? No, not really. But it definitely wasn’t worth riding all the way down there to NOT put a sticker on a sign. Oh well. I spent the day on a motorcycle - there are worse things.

The end of the road...

I stopped at a little lunch joint that looked promising in Venice. I might not get to the southernmost drivable spot, but I could at least the southernmost edible po boy. The place was classic and the refinery workers pouring into the place were a good sign. I wasn’t that hungry so I ordered the small shrimp po boy which came on a bun instead of a roll. Okay - not totally authentic I guess. But it was delicious. Po boy - done.

Back on the bike and in less than two hours I was back in New Orleans. I checked in to a hotel and took a glorious shower, rinsed out some clothes, and checked emails for a bit. Then I headed down the street to this massive warehouse where they build and store a ton of Mardi Gras floats. Interesting place and worth the visit. Then I rode around the French Quarter which is about as much as I want to do in the French Quarter. It gives me Myrtle Beach and Gatlinberg vibes. That’s probably not fair, but that’s just how it is. It’s not really a place I want to hang out. By now it was about dinner time - and I had planned on doing double po boy duty - early lunch and again for dinner. I had a place called Domilise's Po-Boy & Bar. I picked it because it looked old, run down, and because it wasn’t in a touristy part of town. I then found out that they’re closed on Mondays, and it happens to be Monday. MOTHER SON OF A $%@!! Here are some photos from the internet. This is my kind of place.

Denied

The tide covered my road once again. Stupid tide. Defeated, I found a place close by. It felt a little touristy, but what the hell. For varieties sake I ordered a fried oyster po boy, and it was delicious.

I would have been much happier at Domilise’s, but I’m calling it good. Po boy mission - accomplished. I probably won’t have another one for another five years.

Now there’s only one thing left on my list for New Orleans for this evening. Snake and Jakes Christmas Club. More on that in the next post.

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I want to thank MotoCampNerd.com for sponsoring this trip. If you’re looking for gear, get it from these good folks.

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