A green and watery world…the Manchac Swamp is as far from the jazz beat of a New Orleans street as you can go and yet it makes it’s own music. This sound is old and mysterious…and primitive as the time before man. The call of unseen birds echo through the thick trees and ‘things’ rustle deep inside the underbrush. Spanish moss hangs from the trees, almost touching the water of the bayou. And the alligator’s teeth snap as they grab their prey.
Through the Cypress trees the swamp is shaded, tangled and dark. The heat presses down on you…even in the shade. The guide told us that we wouldn’t last long if we wandered into the swamp. He pointed out an area of quicksand. “It’s everywhere out there.” he said.
Rick and I talked it over and decided we will NOT be relocating there anytime in the near future!