Paddling across the Sabine River, I couldn’t escape the feeling I had forgotten something important. One of those nagging feelings in the back of your mind which sort of makes your stomach turn, but you don’t know why. Shoving this down I looked back at times to check on Lauren paddling 20 or so yards back. I was raised on these waters, what could I have possibly forgotten? Pushing my paddle under the washed out bank I hoped if there were a nesting alligator it would choose the paddle over my leg.
The mosquito population was hosting an involuntary blood drive, buzzing about whispering sweet nothings. Like a bad prom date, finding all the “tender spots”, promising they didn’t have diseases, and would call in the morning . As I pulled Lauren’s kayak onto the bank, I couldn’t help but feel a bit chivalrous, somewhat of a southern gentleman. If only I had a Mint Julep and were wearing a white suit I could have been the ginger version of Clark Gable in “Gone with the Wind”.
This feeling quickly faded as Lauren explained she had came across a large Moccasin which lifted itself from the water surface as it approached her. That’s what I had forgotten, we covered alligator 101 but I forgot the snake talk. Not knowing what to do she charmed the snake with her Snow White like powers. Joking aside she really does have a Snow White/ Cinderella way about her, like singing and dancing with birds and mice while sewing a gown. I’m certainly no Prince Charming,or Mr. Darcy; pick all you want but real men read Jane Austen…right..
Known as Old East Orange Louisiana, this reclaimed swamp was once the home of Casinos, Gin joints, Speakeasies, and houses of ill repute, more popularly known as brothels. If you still don’t understand, Google brothel on a co-worker’s computer. (Preferably one you don’t like), followed by an image search for overweight speedo. Now, leave the office; your I.T. guy should be there shortly.
Let’s just say this place was not filled with holy relics. Amongst the rubble we would not find the Spear of Destiny, or the Holy Grail. In fact we found bottles, lots and lots of old liquor bottles. Generations had come here to kill brain cells, gamble, and dance the night away to Big Band Swing and Cajun Zydeco.
What was once casino, now no more than piers and pylons set among the reeds and flowers. Once home to card sharks, pickpockets, and gamblers now the residence of alligators, toads, and snakes….. So the crowd hasn’t changed much.
Cement Stairs lead to what was once an entryway. What once was the threshold to a roaring casino/bar is now an invitation to walk directly into the swamp.
A tiled sidewalk cracked and decayed by time and the shifting ground played home to weeds rooted within its cracked surface.
Bottles sat catching rain, the ghosts of countless nights of party, dance, and a bit of debauchery. They roared through the 20’s and 30’s, yet like all things aging and slowly fading. Shifting economics, and the construction of a new Interstate system slowly starved these businesses.
We walked for miles on a thick asphalt roadbed often broken by the slow but persistent growth of trees. Ending in the swamp, only charred piers remained of the mile long bridge, a burnt reminder of what must have been a marvelous fire.
Why are we so attracted to these lost abandoned places, these ghost towns? Some may dream of treasure, others perhaps, romanticize of a better time. I, however, love to see nature reclaiming itself. With every flake of rust, steel beams and nails are converted, transformed, and redeposited. Cement cracks until it is no more than the sand from which it came. Wood beams rot, depositing hundreds of years of absorbed solar energy and carbon back to the forest floor.
I love seeing time and nature do what they do best, repair and restore. Yet, time does not only heal old roads and reclaimed swamp, for time and nature heals broken hearts and fearsome wounds.
“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” The wise old man John Muir
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Once known as the Mile Long Bridge.
Little Adventures 
Looks like an interesting place! Great read!
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Good post. Informative.
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Informative and intriguing!
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People often forget (or chose to forget) about the history of brothels and the like. Fun post and nice photos, too.
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Love your pictures; make me homesick for trees and marsh! I might be using your blog to live vicariously in the future…
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So glad it is brining someone a bit of happiness. You know how hard it is sometimes to send yourself into the blogging abyss and wonder if anything positive is coming from your efforts. Thanks for the encouragement.
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This was great when are you going to have a field trip?? you know for those first timers.. ?? Love your post Curt.
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Amazing place and your write-up was super entertaining. I doubt I’d ever get to go because I HATE kayaking, but at least I got to experience this through your blog!
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Interesting place. Nice sense of humor. 🙂 Enjoyed the read.
And thanks for checking our my DOOR challenge. You’re always welcome to come back.
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Very atmospheric post, and quite different from our local paddles!
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could you tell me how to get there. i would love to go take my granddaughters
gps maybe
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Using google maps. Search the Orange Texas boat ramp. Just South East of the ramp you will see a man made cut coming off of the Sabine heading dead east, and a road named old Hwy 90. This is the old road. Be careful the banks are badly eroded, to the point of 6 foot plus in some areas, lots of metal etc in the water. Enjoy your adventure!!!!
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Thanks for sharing, love old history !
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Do you mean casinos instead of casino’s?
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Thank you…
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Wow! This is so cool. Thanks for sharing!
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Your very welcome. Thank you for taking the time to stop by.
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Brings back memories! I was raised in Vinton and traveled highway 90 long before the interstate, Thanks for the postings.
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Some of those old places were my dad’s favorite places on Friday nights (Before he met my sweet mother of course). He told me about the names of DeMarys Club and a place called the Bucket of Blood. Don’t think that was the actual name but because of the reputation it had for fighting and other types of violence. There used to be a bridge at the eastern end of Green Avenue that lead to the mile long bridge. After you got back on dry ground there was Lou Anns and the Big Oaks. IH 10 came along sometimes after Eisenhower and Congress passed the Interstate Highway Act of 1957.
Guess they decided to leave the swamp instead of draining it…where is the infrastructure funding when it was needed?
Very enjoyable walk down an interesting albeit bawdy past!
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Thanks for sharing… I love hearing history first hand. That’s awesome..
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Also we found the big oaks, they are no more than giant stumps. Appears they died naturally as they were not cut Dow.
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I don’t know how I ended up on your blog post. Curt – you are a great writer. I don’t know if it’s because I grew up in Orange and had always heard about what we called “across the river”. Your post brought “that place” to life. I could see it, taste it, smell it (including the nearby refineries) – through your writing and pictures. I have never heard of “Old East Orange Lousiana”. This is just an awesome story! And then there are the alligators. I always tell people about growing up – waterskiing in the bayous – the same ones you were kayaking along – and seeing the alligators along the banks just a few feet away and never realizing that – that isn’t “normal”. Thank you for posting this. I’m now want to learn more about the casinos and juke-joints because I never was quite sure about what really was “across the river”. Now I know! Thanks for the great blog.
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Glad you enjoyed it. I grew up in Orangefield. Like you I also thought swimming with alligators was normal. It wasn’t until traveling a bit that I realized most places are really afraid of them..
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Fully enjoyed ….
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Thanks for taking the time to share our adventure
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