Courtesy of Carly Viator
The Trainwreck Inn in Grand Coteau, Louisiana
After taking the exit 11 off LA-93, the modern world gives way to timeless beauty and tranquil rejuvenation. Once called the holiest place in Louisiana, Grand Coteau can save your soul if you let it. The historic town is renowned as a haven for spiritual rejuvenation and creativity, and its newest lodging, The Trainwreck Inn, serves as a vintage-inspired retreat that references the area’s history and contributes to its creative spirit.
Like most good things, The Trainwreck Inn is a labor of love. Co-owner Ben Trant, a Renaissance man if there ever was one, has the calluses on his hands to prove it.
By day, the born and raised St. Landry Parish attorney runs his law firm and serves as judge magistrate for six towns in the parish. He knew he wanted to return home after graduating from Loyola Law, and that decision has spawned several successful residential real estate endeavors—among them the Trainwreck Inn.
Courtesy of Carly Viator.
The Trainwreck Inn in Grand Coteau, Louisiana
In November 2019, Trant acquired a property in Sunset, and with it a collection of rusting train cars and a ticket booth from the old Lafayette passenger train station. "I saw the Sunset property listed and really wanted the train cars," said Trant. "They’d gone into disrepair.”
A sunshine yellow caboose, built in the 1920s, was determined to be the last caboose to run on the now-abandoned railroad that went through Sunset. Crafted in the early 1900s, the orange octagonal depot building was originally located at the Sunset train yard and housed rail workers. The oldest of the antiques was the nineteenth century blue U.S. mail car. Its origins are unknown, aside from its once having served as a hunting camp near the Atchafalaya Basin.
“I love history and old structures, and I wanted to move them here [to Grand Coteau] and have something old and cool," said Trant.
Courtesy of Carly Viator
The Trainwreck Inn in Grand Coteau, Louisiana
To assist in realizing the concept, he called his lifelong friend, the entrepreneur Colin Grussing. About a decade ago, Grussing had proposed the idea of putting tiny homes on a piece of land in Grand Coteau. “That was not the right time for such a project,” said Grussing, but after hearing Trant’s plan for the train cars, “I signed on immediately.” He is now a co-owner of the business, and spearheads logistics and operations for the Trainwreck.
Having acquired the train cars for free, Trant enjoyed the freedom of working on them on his own time—without the crazed rush of other real estate endeavors. On his own, he built out the decks, the railroad tie walkway, and the winding border between the red and gray gravel. “I did a lot myself, and I brought in friends that have great talents,” he said.
Courtesy of Carly Viator
The Trainwreck Inn in Grand Coteau
One friend central to the Inn’s ultimate vision was branding expert and interior designer Carly Viator Courville. For the site’s signature aesthetic, the media maven and owner of Electric Magnolia Studio drew inspiration from the 1970s: happy yellows, bright mints, deep blues, warm oranges—all grounded by natural light and unfinished wood. “We used Wes Anderson color palettes to make each space different, but have a cohesive thing,” Viator Courville said. “It’s timeless.” The mid-century modern furniture looks good in a photograph but doesn’t sacrifice comfort. There are record players and vintage glassware on bar carts; movie posters and portraits of local legends like Amédé Ardoin, Dennis McGee, Sady Courville, and Marc Savoy. The cabinetry was constructed entirely by fellow Grand Coteau resident Toby Rodriguez, best known as the owner of L’ache Pas Boucherie and for appearances on Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, Treme, and Top Chef. If every frame in a Wes Anderson film is a picture, then every corner of the Trainwreck Inn is a postcard.
Courtesy of Carly Viator
The Trainwreck Inn in Grand Coteau, Louisiana
Part of the magic of Grand Coteau is its tendency to attract creatives to its hallowed grounds. With a population in the triple digits, the artist-per-capita ratio can’t be beat. Conceptually, Grand Coteau has more in common with Marfa than, say, Opelousas. This is by design.
“The town council and the mayor are people who have lived here a long time, and they, for multiple reasons, have fought growth,” Rodriguez said. “There had to be a balance of that. You can have bad growth. But we’ve effectively kept the place as a time capsule.” The train cars, the caboose, and the ticket booth are now part of that time capsule—a tribute to the history of St. Landry’s old railroad towns and a to the possibilities of creative collaboration in the name of hospitality.
