Saturday Summary - Week 12 - Jan 17th - Jan 23rd - Cajun Rhythm, Cold Curveballs, Highway Heart-Stops

LaFayette, LA (60’s) → Bluff City, AR (50’s)  → Prescott, AR (40’s) → Athens, TX (30’s) | Jan 17th - Jan 23rd

This was the kind of week that reminds you why road life isn’t romantic, it’s resilient. Plans unraveled, surprises stacked up, and a few moments felt genuinely scary. But somehow, through luck, logic, and stubbornness, we made it through together and kept the wheels turning.

LaFayette, Louisiana

We started the week leaning into culture and curiosity. A slow Saturday morning led us to Avery Island, home of Tabasco, all Tabasco. Every bottle in the world is made here, which is both impressive and a little mind-bending. The self-guided tour was quiet on a Saturday, but the barrel room stopped me cold: rows and rows of aging pepper mash, impossible to count and even harder to imagine fully bottled. Every one of the 70,000 barrels stays there for three years before being turned into Tabasco.

From heat to rhythm, we shifted gears at Vermilionville Historic Village for their weekly Cajun Jam. Local musicians gathered simply to play; they play for themselves and for anyone lucky enough to wander in. It was joyful and unpolished in the best way. Music spilling out, feet tapping, history layered right into the air. We explored the village afterward, grounding the music in the stories of Acadian, Creole, Native American, and African-descended communities that shaped the region.

Back at camp, we tracked down firewood (why this is harder than expected on the road remains a mystery), cooked dinner at the picnic table, joined the Kuhl Call, and ended the night by the fire. One of those days that quietly hits all the right notes.

Louisiana to Arkansas

Sunday was designed as a long road day, with stops worth stretching for. Waffle House kicked things off (the rare chain exception), followed by Cane River Creole National Historical Park. The park does important work telling the full, honest story of slavery and labor in the region. It was sunny, beautifully preserved, and so cold. All restored houses are outdoors, which is great most of the year in Louisiana, but today encouraged a quicker walk.

Texarkana came next. Nearly empty, strangely quiet, and meaningful for no logical reason other than this: we once laughed at its name while planning this trip, and now we were there. Proof that this whole thing is actually happening.

We ended the day at White Oak Lake State Park in Bluff City, Arkansas. Beautiful setting, stubborn cold. Monday brought hikes, frozen water spigots, and a casual comment from campground maintenance that changed everything: “Your back tire looks really low.” This was when everything changed in our week.

We heard there was an arctic blast heading our way. That night meant rerouting everything. No Hot Springs. No Oklahoma. No Route 66 detour or Wichita Mountains, at least not yet. We’d promised ourselves from the start: if it gets too cold, we go south.

Prescott, Arkansas

A gas station check after leaving White Oak Lake State Park revealed the real issue: the inside rear tire was flat, the outside not far behind. A local mechanic stepped in, confirmed the truth we didn’t want, and replaced two tires immediately, but it didn’t end there. The two tires on the other side were headed the same way, so we opted to get all 4 back tires replaced. But they only had two in stock, meaning the other two were arriving the next day.

Overnight hotel stay. Unplanned expense. Big sigh.

But also? Luck. Those tires could’ve blown on the highway in freezing weather. Instead, we were safe, helped, and grateful.

Athens, Texas

We’d hoped to push on to Austin, face the cold blast with family, and enjoy some great food.  But Arkansas delayed us, the weather turned, and the drive into Texas was wet, dark, and heavy with nerves. Fresh tires helped, but Texas speed limits are unforgiving, and one reckless tractor-trailer passing us in a no-passing zone nearly ended everything. Not the trip. Everything.  Everyone survived, but it stressed that we were pushing our luck. So we changed plans, again! Athens wasn’t the destination we wanted, but it was the one we needed. Groceries. Filled growlers. A tiny house with heat (a luxury that felt monumental after the day we’d had). After a week of cold, rerouting, and close calls, it felt like shelter and safety.

This wasn’t the week we planned. It was the week that reminded us why plans stay flexible, and why making it through sometimes has to be enough.

6000 miles

Hitting 6,000 miles wasn’t a milestone we planned for, but it stopped us long enough to notice it. That’s 6,000 miles of highways, back roads, breakdown anxiety, weather chasing, and constant recalculating. We’re almost three months into a one-year trip, and we still don’t know what the final mileage will be, only that it’s adding up faster than we expected (as are the gas bills). The goal hasn’t changed: keep moving, keep learning, and eventually find our way back into the 70-degree days we keep chasing. From here, the road keeps bending south when it needs to, east or west when it calls us, and sometimes straight through the uncomfortable stuff. We’re trusting that the warmer stretch of road is still ahead.