Sunday Drive

Since no one is commenting on the blogs I am assuming you are reading as fast as I post them.  Don't miss the last post with the paintings we did of the dog that looks just like ol' DiNozzo the Destroyer.  And the one before that of Leaders and Enders and the Bow Tie block tutorial from Anna Lena. 

In the fall we are planning a bike adventure on the Tammany Trace.  So today we took a ride to Covington to have lunch with my dear Diane-boo-kins-ville.  She lost her Ralphie just about the time we got DiNozzo.  Remember?   So we met her for lunch and took a ride through Covington to the Train Station that is the head for the Tammany Trace Rails to Trails program.

That door says Covington Rails to Trails Trailhead.  We took in the movie about how Covington got started (a guy named Wharton bought 541 acres of land from a guy named Collins who got it from the Indians.)  It got burned down twice and it has evolved into what you see today.  Over lots and lots and lots of time.  During the very early days, every man was expected to "give" 12 days of labor to the city per year.  That is how the buildings got built, the docks along the river got manned and the lumber got cut and cleared.  Interesting.

 
We saw the trailhead and talked to the lady in the museum.  She said, Don't ride the distance until the fall!  It is way too hot right now.

Covington Trailhead



Covington Train Station



So we rode down to Abita Springs and pas the Brewery and stopped at the Pavilion.  The Pavilion was built probably during the 1920's as the center of town.  It is like one of those bandstand pavilions you see in the movies.  Really. 





Abita Springs Trailhead



Pavilion



And the rich people would come and bathe in the sulphur springs and drink the sulphur water (yuck, it stunk) for their health.  We would drive up from New Orleans when I was a kid and fill buckets and containers full of the water that flowed freely from the spring by the Pavilion.  My brother and I would play in the pine woods, we would stop by the great grandparents graves, stop by the old shipyard property my great grandfather owned and then cross the 26 mile long Causeway Bridge over Lake Pontchartrain home again.

Nothing looks the same.

glen