Sunrise again. An instant ten degree rise in temperature. The walls of the tent change from light gray to orange. All night long towboat and train engines have been rumbling.
Yesterday we passed under the bridges of Baton Rogue and encountered our first ocean freighter. Tied empty alongside refineries it hung high over the river. Towboats and barge-that once seemed so huge-darted around its steel hull.
Even with all the smokestacks and refineries around Baton Rogue we found a clearing amongst some twisted sycamores in the bottoms along the river. Though between the towns, factories, and rising water campsites are becoming scarce.
Driftwood is also harder to find since much of it has decided to take its own trip towards the Gulf. The branches left seem to burn faster. There was nothing but ashes left from last night’s fire. Beneath them the sand was warm enough to heat my hands while I prepared breakfast.