Boats and Bourbon

North America » United States » Louisiana » New Orleans
August 25th 2014

Published: July 28th 2017

Geo: 29.9537, -90.0778

We were once again awake early this morning, our body clocks still on Nevada time, and used to the 6am starts on the tour, our eyes pinged open at 8am. We had nowhere to be until 11am, and so we took our time getting ready and then made out way out onto the streets of the French Quarter. After strolling around some of the curiosity shops and art galleries of Royal Street, we passed through Jackson Square again. Here we were treated to impromptu jazz performances by two sets of buskers. One pair singing and trumpeting, while the other substituted the trumpet for a huge euphonium. New Orleans truly is the city of Jazz, with musical performances not confined to the jazz bars of Bourbon and Frenchmen streets, but where is is not uncommon to experience acapella performances by singers, serenading the people passing by and drummers and guitarists hooking up to provide a soundtrack to your stroll around this incredibly beautiful and vibrant city. We hit one of the riverfront cafés for breakfast and were once again treated to that famous American hospitality. The local who served us not only recommended the best food to eat, but also the best places to see on our whistlestop tour. On her advice, we selected a breakfast of jambalaya - spicy rice flavoured with meat and sausage - and beignets - thin layers of dough, folded into squares then deep fried and coated in powdered sugar. A local delicacy, it is claimed that the best ones are served at Cafe du Monde right across the street, but I can't imagine that they could be better than these. They were deliciously decadent and unhealthy! After our breakfast, we boarded the Natchez paddle steamboat for a lunch cruise down the Mississippi River, a romantic ideal we have both held since childhood. As we waited in line to board, the engines began to power the steam that would eventually power the huge red paddle on the back of the boat. However, the steam was now used for entertainment purposes. Sitting atop the very top deck, an organist was perched at a white steam organ. The pipes in front of him illuminated and lines of steam rose out of them each time he played a key. We were treated to old standards, including the Chattanooga Choochoo, albeit in a very high pitched, almost ear-piercing squeal! We boarded the boat and made our way to the bar to enjoy our complimentary cocktails (we had signed up for the all inclusive drinks package) and both sampled the famous traditional hurricane cocktail. With three types of rum, including the famous 151 rum, it was a potent mix and we were soon incredibly relaxed as the boat slid out of the dock and made its way down the great Mississsppi. We were treated to a commentary from the captain as we sailed downstream, and learned more about the industry that relies on the river for its power and transportation. We passed sugar and oil refineries, industrial shipping depots and huge cargo ships on our route down the mighty river. In places, we learned, the river is 200ft deep, making it ideal as a shipping river. It is also possible to use the tributaries and man-made canals along the river to sail all the way to Florida or Texas. The captain once again spoke in the Louisiana accent twang we found difficult to translate, but we enjoyed guessing at what he might have said! Once we had got as far downstream as we were going to, we turned around and lunch was served. It wasn't gourmet cuisine by anyone's standards, but we did get a flavour of the main famous dishes of the area, eating Monday's traditional meal of red beans and rice, corn bread, fried fish, frittata and turkey sausages. All washed down with more of the hurricanes. Alongside our meal came a performance from an excellent jazz trio - who played traditional jazz standards and more modern, upbeat music. They really complimented the feel of the cruise and gave us a great New Orleans sensation. Then, after two hours, we docked back by the riverfront of the French quarter. It hadn't been the most exciting trip we'd ever been in, but it was a piece of "N'awlins" history that we had to experience, and the very fact of being on an historic vessel which is part of the cultural tradition of the area made it worthwhile. After a quick change and realisation that Stacey had lost yet another pair of designer prescription sunglasses...... Yes, another.... We joined another boating tour but this one was poles apart from our first leisurely cruise on a stately, historic vessel. We were picked up by minivan and taken away from the heart of New Orleans and into the neighbouring district of Jean Lafitte. Named for the French pirate contain who had joined forces with the American side to defeat the British, this was swamp territory. We were joining s tour with Airboat Adventures, where we would board, funnily enough, an airboat and tour the swamps of Louisiana. For those who don't know what an airboat is, it's basically a shallow piece of metal with what is effectively a giant fan strapped to the back. This then powers the boats around the swamp at speeds of up to 60mph. In the registration office, there were various nods to the main attraction in the area - the gators. Gator statues, memorabilia, signposts and severed heads adorned every surface, and at the back of the office (somewhat cruelly I thought) there was a large pond with an albino alligator kept in it. There wasn't much time to dwell on it, however, as our number was soon called and we boarded our jet boat with our captain, who really had the thickest Louisiana accent we had yet heard. When coupled with the roar of the engine, it was impossible to comprehend some of the initial commentary, so we simply kept our arms and legs inside the boat and hoped for the best. At first, it appeared that this was going to be another underwhelming experience. We almost floated along the initial part of the lake and saw very little in terms of wildlife. However, as soon as we reached the end of the waterway we were on, and started to move along the smaller tributaries, the captain put the boat into supersonic mode and we were off! Flying along the swamp waters, ear defenders on to protect us against the incredible thundering of the fan and practically gliding across the surface, it was a ride like no other. Our adrenaline was pumping, when he suddenly cut the engine and we drifted to a stop near the bank of one of the smaller sections of the water. The air became eerily still - nothing moved. There was no breeze, no current in the water, no noise except for the occasional chirping of a cricket. And then two beady eyes and two nostrils broke the surface of the water. The ripples began to radiate out from both sides as the alligator swished its tail from side to side, moving threateningly through the water. We were informed that this was a small 'gator. To determine the size, you measure the nose in inches from eyes to end. Whatever this measurement is will be the length of the 'gator in feet. This, we were told, was only a six footer. 6 feet of claws, teeth and the ability to hold its breath under water was plenty enough to keep us firmly on the boat! The captain then threw a marshmallow into the water. This, he told us, was more commonly known in the business as "swamp crack," - the alligators of crazy for it. Indeed, this one raced towards the mallow and devoured it in one gulp, giving us a flash of his teeth as he did. We learned about the water in the area being fresh water - indicated by the moss and the cypress trees growing on the banks. After a few minutes of taking in our surroundings, the engine was fired up once again and we powered across the water once more. We slowed to see a heron take off elegantly from its resting place on the side of the water, and then saw a larger alligator basking in the sunshine on a log. It was clear from this, that the water temperature was higher than the air - no mean feat in the humidity and heat of the swamp. The engine started again and we careered once more around the waterways, spotting around fifteen more alligators swimming slowly and menacingly on the surface. We saw another heron, a blue one this time, wading in the shallows and then we came to another stop. As we rested on the surface of the water, a nauseating stench rose from the swamp. Bubbles exploded on the surface and the water seemed to be alive. This was the swamp gas - the methane that exudes from the depths of the swamp and makes its way to the surface. This gas is harvested and refined from the swamp and used for energy. Here there were no cypress trees of moss overhanging, and this meant we had entered more brackish water. As we sat on the surface of the water, the captain pulled out more marshmallows and around 9 alligators came crowding around the boat. At this point, we heard a low squeaking sound and our guide pulled a cooler out from under the seat. Inside, he showed us was a tiny alligator, maybe 15cm long. He passed it around the boat so we could all have a feel and a hold of it. It felt like a small, hairless cat - you could feel the bones and sinews moving as it wriggled. It was, in a strange way, rather cute. Our guide told us that hundreds of baby alligators, just a little smaller than this one, hatch each month but only a few make it through to adulthood. We were about to get a lesson in why. Of the alligators that were swarming around the boat, waiting for their crack fix three were much smaller than the others, and one was much larger. As the larger one approached, the smaller ones turned tail and swam rapidly off in the other direction. After a while, we started the engine and raced off again. Our next stop was sudden, when our captain spied another boat hovering around in the middle of one of the canals. We were treated to the biggest alligator sighting we had seen on the trip. The guide estimated that he must have been around 16 feet. He came swimming towards the boat and it was an intimidating experience, even knowing that we were well within the safety of a large amount of metal. Smaller alligators swam up to the boat, intrigued and greedy for the marshmallows. Suddenly, the big 'gator turned tail and raced towards a smaller one, which was around 8 feet in length. Jaws open, there was let one thing on this huge fella's mind - and he wasn't going to waste his time on marshmallows. He lunged at the smaller one and the pair disappeared below the surface. After a brief stunned silence, where we realised we had just witnessed a 'gator attack, we heard a yell from the other boat. The smaller alligator had popped up behind our boat, unscathed. The large one did not resurface for some time, but when he did, he simply slipped back under the surface and, only his eyes and nostrils peeping out, slunk away, humiliated in his loss. Once back on dry land, we were driven back to the hotel. Our destination for the evening was Bourbon Street. However, we had a stop to make first. We had a date with the NOPD. Yep, due to the lost glasses, we were headed to the police station to fill out a form so we could try claim on the insurance later. We met some rather unsavoury characters, but it was quite exciting to be in a real police station. The desk sergeant thought it was hilarious that we had lost two pairs of glasses in as many weeks, and even funnier that the lost glasses were a replacement to the original lost pair. However, he did give us a recommendation for dinner and so we forgave his mirth and left the building! We visited art galleries on Royal Street and saw vast quantities of work we could easily have brought home with us, but sadly lack of space prevented us buying all but two small prints of jazz singers. Then it was off to the main event - Bourbon Street. Famed across the world for the jazz and party scene, the street has become synonymous with the good times to be had in the city. The bright lights were calling us, but I have to say, we were distinctly underwhelmed by the street itself. Yes, there was good live music, but the entire area had taken on a rather sleazy tone, more noticeable the further down the street you walked. At the outset of the street, where it traversed St Ann's, the bars seemed to be legitimate music bars - live vocals and pumping guitars were blasting out into the street. However, as we walked further, looking for our recommended restaurant, we were struck, not only by the smell of vomit that permeated the street, but by the huge quantity of "alternative entertainment provisions" - gentlemen to clubs, exotic dance clubs and, my favourite, "live love clubs - men and women." I have been told that, ten to fifteen years ago, Bourbon Street was a haven for jazz - drawing music fans from around the world, intent on hearing the best of local talent and enjoying a party atmosphere. Sadly, these days seem to be well behind, and all that remains is a touristy ghost of what was once an authentic experience, and has now become simply the bachelor party capital of Southern America - fun it may be, but that fun has come at a price. Fortunately, there is a new Bourbon Street on its way up - Frenchmen Street is where the jazz enthusiasts of today head to hear raw talent and enjoy the atmosphere of old Bourbon. This, therefore, will be our chosen destination tomorrow. We found the restaurant recommended to us and enjoyed delicious cocktails and some good old-fashioned southern cooking. Stacey had a three-fold combo of Jambalaya, Cajun spiced chicken and red beans and rice. I had the crawfish and prawn mardi gras pasta with an Alfredo sauce. It was not bad but, like to rest of Bourbon Steet, over-hyped and touristy, and not one we would go back to. We like to find the real heart of a place, and try to avoid too many tourist eateries where we can. Sadly, this evening fell firmly into the tourist category and we mist seek out the true experiences tomorrow.

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