I took a walk this morning and scouted out the bridges across Bayou Teche. Okay, so maybe some of the bridges on the bayou are less passable for the shantyboat.
Later we connected with some folks in Arnaudville—the weirdos and freaks, as George affectionately described them—and soon found ourselves invited to a neighborly gathering at Lilly’s. As we swapped river stories, conversation turned to Bayou Teche and the impressive logjam we’d posted about earlier. Hayden mentioned a half-submerged boat trapped in the debris, and how she’d been dreaming of a rescue. Jeremiah and I exchanged glances—great minds, same channel.
With bellies full of potato salad, ribs, and a few cold ones, we set off on our mission. After some sketchy fishing (involving a makeshift hook crafted from an auto security club), we managed to snag the boat and reel it in. Sometimes community means potato salad; sometimes it means dragging abandoned boats from the bayou.
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