We rode 65 miles through crawfish country. Again the route was flat, the altitude oscillated between 50 and 200 feet above sea level. The fields we passed were filled water for crawfish or rice. They alternate the two as the crawfish feed on the remnants of the rice harvest.
As we approached Mamou, there was a puppy sitting in the middle of the road. When we got closer we saw what must have been his companion lying by the side of the road, a victim of a traffic accident. The puppy moved over to him as we rode past. It was a sad situation, but nothing we could do.
Our first stop once we arrived in Mamou was Fred’s for cajun music. By the time we got there, shortly after noon, the place was hopping. From the looks of things most of the patrons had started early.