While Americans frantically dash through crowded strip malls, Paul and Michael Orr jump into their 17-foot Boston Whaler ready to hunt for a different kind of merchandise—the kind that grows in the Gulf of Mexico. They are searching for samples of seafood and sediment located in the oil damaged bayous of Louisiana. And what they have found so far may lead to important revelations about potential contamination along the entire Gulf coast.
For many here at ground zero of the BP oil disaster, news has fluctuated between the absurd and the insane. On the national front, testimony from the on-going presidential oil spill commission shows a seemingly never-ending cascade of mistakes and dismal safety measures, including a rig technician who missed key signals the well was going to blow up while he was on a smoking break.
A cold northerly wind blew through the bayous of Louisiana last night, bringing near-frost like conditions and hastening the end of the worst shrimp season in memory. Only the small fry are left, and they too are on the move with their larger brethren, swimming out to sea to feed over the winter. They will wait for warmer temperatures of spring before they return to their spawning grounds of the marsh.
Darla Rooks is a bayou fisherman to the core. When she married Todd 20 years ago, she wore her white plastic fishing boots under her wedding dress. Todd and Darla love shrimping in the coastal waters of Louisiana the way cowboys love riding the west Texas range. It's in their blood—a calling passed down through the generations—a lifestyle they hope to pass on to their grandkids.
Update: On Nov. 24, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration closed 4200 square miles of federal Gulf waters to fishing for royal red shrimp after oily tar balls were discovered in the nets of a commercial fisherman trawling for shrimp.
On Thursday, families of the Gulf coast will gather together to celebrate the holiday. But for many, it will be a bittersweet occasion. This is the first Thanksgiving since the BP oil disaster destroyed their coast and many of their businesses. Some will find it difficult to afford a turkey or ham to celebrate.
Down in the Louisiana bayou, the fall season is changing with the north winds. Millions of ducks, geese and migratory birds are arriving as they have throughout the millennia. Shrimp are slowly abandoning the nourishing coastal marshes as cooler water pushes them out to sea.
I first met JJ Creppel last summer while standing in the checkout line of the Buras Dollar Store. It’s one of the few places in this Louisiana fishing town deep down in the bayou where you can buy basic groceries and milk. Nearly all the other stores were destroyed five years ago in the monster storm that roared through here and leveled this community of 5,000 people.
As the six-month anniversary of the worst American maritime oil disaster approaches, people along the Gulf coast continue to struggle with its aftermath. Many feel uncertain about their future and abandoned by the media and politicians focused on their election campaigns this fall.
the six-month anniversary of the worst American maritime oil disaster approaches, people along the Gulf coast continue to struggle with its aftermath. Many feel uncertain about their future and abandoned by the media and politicians focused on their election campaigns this fall.
