Where Bayou Towns Stood, Only Bayou Remains

[CountAllVotes]

At its worst, Rita behaved like a viciously effective bulldozer, scraping away everything it met, scraping away places such as Holly Beach. The full scope of the storm's brutality can be comprehended only from the air, and from the air the images are heartbreaking: 200 miles of Louisiana coastal life broken apart or left to steep in the brownest, dankest water imaginable. The destruction stretches from the wobbly levees that flooded New Orleans for a second time, west to the shattered levee that has submerged more than 10,000 homes near Houma; westward along the coast, where the lowest-lying parts of Louisiana were wrecked; and inland to Lake Charles, a major city so battered that each highway exit is blocked to keep residents out.

Row after row of gray foundations -- laid out like tombstones in a monster-size graveyard -- are the only clues that some coastal neighborhoods, some towns, once existed. In other places, subdivisions are ringed by moats, and houses are transformed into islands. Cows push against one another for comfort on tiny patches of dry land in deep bayou-country pastures, stranded three football fields of water away from the high road. Their determined human keepers patrol by horseback, hoping to save a few, while elsewhere the most intrepid residents float flatboats up to their roofs and hack through, hoping to salvage something.

On the ground, the scene is a still life. Most of the bayou towns are empty -- even repair crews cannot get in. And in the places where people have managed to cajole or sneak or power their way in, the plastering that Rita administered is so complete that there is seldom anything to do but stand in awe. They would clean up if there were something there to clean up. But there isn't.

"It's hard to believe what water can do," Jerry Melancon said, standing on the empty ground where his dream pad used to be in Pecan Island, below the expanse of White Lake. "Unbelievable."

Looking down from above, it's clear what functions in Louisiana and what doesn't. The places where the marsh -- run through with brilliant patches of orange amid seas of browns and green -- was allowed to thrive without development are vibrant. The marsh wears a storm well, wrapping water around it like a shawl, guzzling the excess. But the places where people pushed themselves into the marsh -- where houses and businesses sprouted in place of marsh grass and lilies -- are apocalyptic, smashed and eerie zones where the few things left standing are in tatters.

more ...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/09/27/AR2005092701863.html

Just a glimpse of how bad it really is. What a joke - remaking New Orleans. Seems like most of the Bayou is gone for certain and there are lots of dead bodies floating around in it's waters. :(

:dem:

[malaise]

1. As hard as it is to bear

particualrly the loss of life and dislocation for the people living there, I can assure you that in a few years the Bayou will be back and full of living organisms and people. After hurricanes, new life emerges and even the marshes and swamps return. Lots of plants that had been killed over the years will sprout again.

I too thought it was all over after Gilbert. I cried when I saw the marshes on our south coast but within five to seven years, even seaside grapes were on the trees and we hadn't seen those for years before the hurricane. Nature is amazing - your bayou will return full of shrimp and crab - just give it a few years. Fresh life also came in with the storm. The question is how to protect it from environmental degradation and big business self interest.
Edit -sp.