The Creole Nature Trail

If you are looking for a leisurely Sunday drive, I wouldn’t recommend the country road I steered down a few weeks ago. The Creole Nature Trail National Scenic Byway is serious business, not for those of faint purpose.

But if you like your road adventures a bit on the wild side, you’ll enjoy exploring this undeveloped area in the southwest corner of the state known as “Louisiana’s Outback.” You will need industrial-strength insect repellent and an abundance of patience.

The Creole Nature Trail is a 105-mile, two-lane road, a loop that stretches south from U.S. Highway 10 at Lake Charles down to the Gulf of Mexico, along a few miles of coast and then back up. Two spurs off the southern end of the loop, one heading west and the other east, add another seventy-five miles to the total trek. Wide-open spaces and wildlife refuges are its salient features.

For an overview of what is there and what to look for, your first stop should be the Southwest Louisiana Convention and Visitors Bureau just off U.S. Highway 10 as you enter Lake Charles. Friendly staff members provide maps and brochures and can answer questions.

If some members of your party aren’t up to a wilderness experience, you could leave them here to be entertained while you explore the wetlands, for within a few blocks of the visitors center, they can laze in the restaurants of Lake Charles or exercise their arms at casinos.

[Read this: A more recent look at Lake Charles and its environs.]

Another stop before you start should probably be to secure overnight accommodations. While it is possible to drive the entire trail in a day, there wouldn’t be much point. The major attractions can’t always be viewed on a tight schedule. Birds and fish and alligators aren’t, after all, trained pets. They don’t always appear on cue.

The tourism center’s advice includes bringing insect repellent and sunscreen, filling up on gas and visiting a bathroom. When I heard that, I immediately thought, “Uh-oh.” I had indulged in my usual pot of coffee, and one trip to the bathroom wasn’t going to last me for long. Luckily, I found there are restroom facilities at adequate intervals along the way.

The emphasis along this drive is definitely on the second word in its title: nature. In 1996, the Federal Highway Administration designated thirteen routes throughout the United States as National Scenic Byways. The Creole Nature Trail was among these first thirteen, and it is still the only National Scenic Byway in the Gulf South.

[Check out the Lacassine National Wildlife Refuge stretch of the trail.]

It is located in the Central and Mississippi Flyways, which means it is a major route for migratory birds. Birds are, therefore, one of the main attractions. Unfortunately, high summer is the only one of the four seasons that isn’t a time of either migration or wintering over. During my summer visit, I saw no multitudes of seabirds or great flocks of geese or ducks.

In fact, I was almost on my way home before anything special crossed my path. As I headed out of the wetlands on my second day, a large pink bird rose suddenly from the marsh grasses and soared overhead. It was a graceful and glorious roseate spoonbill, as pink as a sweetheart rose, as rosy as a drunkard’s nose!

As I headed out of the wetlands on my second day, a large pink bird rose suddenly from the marsh grasses and soared overhead. It was a graceful and glorious roseate spoonbill, as pink as a sweetheart rose, as rosy as a drunkard’s nose!

Bird watching is not one of my hobbies. I’m a photographer and not even a wildlife photographer. But I thrilled at the sight of that great bird. Consulting a bird list, I discovered that sighting a roseate spoonbill is considered “uncommon.” That brought a rosy flush of pride to my cheeks. I had seen something that not every visitor would be privileged to see.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, a cautionary tale of my first day’s travails. I headed out of the little town of Sulphur, down Highway 27, at about midday. Prairies and wetlands and marshes are pretty flat. The road was narrow, with almost no shoulder to pull onto if I saw something I wanted to photograph, which I didn’t. That isn’t to say it isn’t awe-inspiring. Marsh grasses stretched from horizon to horizon, while clouds began accumulating in the vast bowl of sky. However, a photograph needs a focal point, and there wasn’t even one scraggly tree.

Marsh grasses stretched from horizon to horizon, while clouds began accumulating in the vast bowl of sky.

At about twenty-two miles down the highway, I bypassed the Sabine Wildlife Refuge Visitors Center (where there are some spectacular moss-draped water oaks), because I was anxious to get into the refuge. Established in 1937, it comprises 125,000 acres of wetlands and marsh, crisscrossed by bayous and canals and ponds. I parked at the entrance to the Marsh Trail, gathered my equipment and headed onto the path. Wildlife in great numbers immediately fluttered around me, but they were of the variety commonly known as “pests.” I had forgotten the bug repellent, and I was being pursued by a swarm of deer flies. Deer flies bite. They won’t shoo away. The only way to get rid of one that has glommed onto your skin is to smack it smartly. After a few paces, I beat a swift retreat to my car, arms flailing.

Later, protectively swathed in chemicals, I did make it all the way to the watchtower, over a mile-long boardwalk. I saw a few birds, rabbits, turtles and a baby alligator. But I guess most life forms (other than humans) have more sense than to bake in the midsummer sun. I leaned on the watchtower railing, contemplated the quiet expanse of cattails and glints of waterways around me, read over the list of more than 250 species of birds that have been observed here and resolved to return at a more appropriate time.

Although birds were not in abundance during my trip, varieties of fish and seafood apparently were. At intervals along the bayou that parallels most of the roadway, people were standing on the banks almost elbow to elbow. They were catching crabs, shrimp and fish almost as fast as they could throw their lines and cast nets into the water.

The trail reaches the Gulf of Mexico at the fishing village of Holly Beach, referred to in the brochure as the “Cajun Riviera.” Don’t worry if you left your fancy duds behind, though. I doubt you will need designer sunglasses or a cocktail dress. From the looks of the unpretentious beach cottages, I’m guessing that nightlife runs more to a friendly game of gin rummy than to high-stakes roulette. Overnight accommodations are available here, as are other amenities, and some of the fishing cabins are available for longer stays. Activities include sunbathing, swimming, surf fishing and beach combing.

From the looks of the unpretentious beach cottages, I’m guessing that nightlife runs more to a friendly game of gin rummy than to high-stakes roulette.

A few miles farther along the coast, I rounded a curve and was in queue for the ferry to Cameron across the Calcasieu ship channel. The ferry runs continuously, but travelers are not allowed to leave their vehicles while on board. The wait was only a few minutes and the crossing itself even shorter. The town of Cameron has places to eat, gas stations and other amenities. A new fishing pier will attract those who would rather garner their own supper.

To get away from civilization entirely, you can bring camping gear and pitch a tent on Rutherford Beach, an undeveloped beach just a short distance along the coast from Cameron. There is nothing at all here except miles of fine white sand and the waters of the Gulf. 

The arm of the Creole Nature Trail leading back up to Lake Charles traverses an area called The Big Burn. More than 100,000 acres of marsh burned during the 1930s, creating numerous ponds that are now covered with colorful water lilies.

The Cameron Prairie Wildlife Refuge, a twin of the Sabine on the first leg of the Trail, has a wonderfully well-planned interpretive center. The building is surrounded by ponds, and from the walkways, it’s easy to spot turtles, alligators, ducks and smaller attractions such as dragonflies. Inside is a diorama featuring a robotic Cajun woman sitting in a boat and explaining Cajun culture, sure to be a hit with kids. At the back of the center is an observation pier with telescope for scoping out nesting birds.

The drive continues from the Prairie refuge through cattle country, and then you’re back in the urban setting of Lake Charles, with its abundance of good restaurants and urban recreations such as racetracks and casinos and nightspots.

However, I opted against the night life and in favor of an early bedtime. I was anticipating getting back to that Sabine watchtower for sunrise over the marsh.

Kathleen Saccopoulos is a professional-in-residence at the Manship School of Mass Communication at LSU, where she specializes in visual communication. A transplanted Midwesterner, she thrives on the rich gumbo of Louisiana history and the fascinating people she meets as she traverses the countryside for Country Roads.