Ranch Report: Visit to Grand Isle, LA

It's still the Gulf Coast, but a tad different

(Note to my readers: Please click the hyperlinks in this Ranch Report. They will take you to maps of the locations I reference.)

I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi, and lived there until I was eight years old. Our house was right on the beach, so I developed a love affair with the Gulf Coast at an early age. Always liked it and loved the return trips there after we moved away to Greenville, then to Laurel. This was the Gulf Coast from 1952 to 1960, before the casinos and high-rise condos came in. There were big, grand hotels, but not on the water and without the Vegas-style gambling.

Miles, cousins Mark, George, Tim and myself at Gulfshores, Alabama, circa 1967.

When we received an invitation from our old Oak Cliff friends, Billy and Patti Reynolds, to come visit them at their new vacation home on Grand Isle, Louisiana, we decided to take them up on it. They had been bugging us to “come on down” for nearly five years, so we finally stopped putting them off. Grand Isle is an island at the southernmost part of Louisiana. It’s only accessible by boat, or the causeway that connects it to the mainland of Louisiana. This is the Louisiana, not Mississippi or Alabama Gulf Coast. It is dominated by the oil industry and the mouth of the Mississippi River that dumps tons of silt as it reaches the sea. The water is darker, and the offshore rigs are visible, but it has its own charm, and is “a most singular country.”

It took us 11 hours to travel from the ranch outside of Fort Stockton to their place. First by car to the Midland Air Field, then by airplane to Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans, then another two hours by car to Billy and Patti’s place.

Upon arriving, the first thing you notice is that EVERY house is built up on stilts.

Billy and Patti’s place on Grand Isle.

They have to be constructed this way because you are barely above sea level, and there is no “slope” for drainage. Plus you will encounter tropical storms or hurricanes nearly every 2-3 years, so you best be prepared for major flooding. The other thing you must do is call it a “camp”, not a “house” because the first structures here were fishing camps. Hence, everything is still called a “camp.”

And they range from the simple, like jacking up a mobile home…..

To the stately, like this one near the beach.

The other thing is that ALL of your activities, sights and meals revolve around Gulf seafood. You are either catching it, fishing for it, watching someone catch or fish for it, and (my favorite) eating it. We had some of the best food I’ve enjoyed in a long time. What Louisiana may lack in clean water and pristine beaches, it more than makes up for in their food.

Both kinds: Gulf seafood and Cajun.

Right after they picked us up from the New Orleans airport, Billy and Patti took us to dinner at Spahr’s Seafood in Des Allmandes, Louisiana, where I had possibly the best thing I’ve eaten in a year: Crawfish etouffe served over a fried catfish fillet.

If you ever get the chance, dine at Spahr’s Seafood in Des Allemandes, LA. They have three locations but this is the best!

It only got better from there.

The next morning Billy had me up at sunrise to fish for Speckled Trout. We had decided to skip the charter boat because 1) I didn’t want to try and bring back 30 fish, and 2) we didn’t want to be gone most of the day. Plus we planned to eat what we caught. Billy knew some good fishing spots along the jetties and man-made reefs that had Specks on them, so I followed his guidance.
It would be the first time I had fished for Speckled Trout in 40 years. The last time was with my brother Miles and one of my dad’s best friends, Dr. Ray Mitchell, down in Biloxi, MS. Dr. Mitchell would take us out to Horn Island, just off the Mississippi Gulf Coast, to fish for Specks. We always had success!

Brother Miles with two Speckled Trout, 1983, Horn Island, MS.

Billy had us on the rocks, casting towards some submerged “islands” (actually underwater rock piles) just as soon as the sun came up.

Billy casting at sunrise.

Let me say from the outset that Billy is a purist when it comes to fishing. Absolutely no live bait, only lures, and he even ties his own flies for fly fishing. Plus he fishes all of the time. Even when we lived in Oak Cliff he was up before sunrise to hit some small lakes inside the Dallas city limits with his fly rod.

Therefore it was no surprise that he caught fish, quickly.

We, or rather he, wound up with three nice Specks before 8:30 am. Then we headed to the “camp” to clean them.

Billy is also an expert at filleting them. He still uses a hand filleting knife, whereas all the other folks I know use an electric knife. No bones, just nice, white, meat.

Our morning catch done, we got in their golf cart to check out the beach and the sights. (Much like our friends Mike and Anne Beck who have a place down in La Paz, Mexico, the golf cart is the preferred mode of transport.)

First stop was to watch a friend of theirs (Herb) casting for shrimp with his cast net.

Herb, using a cast net for shrimp near the rocks. Note the offshore drilling platforms on the horizon. They are everywhere.

We watched for a while and checked out his haul, so far.

They were all a nice size!

Billy with one of Herb’s shrimp, or prawns as the Aussies call them!

You know where this is going.

That night Diann and Billy peeled and de-veined raw shrimp. Then the next day we had shrimp and grits for breakfast, cooked in the “camp’s” kitchen.

Another meal so good it would make you slap your mama!

We got to tour the marinas that hold shrimp boats and oil-rig-service boats.

Then we tooled along the beach. Billy pulled the golf cart over and spoke to nearly everyone we encountered. (I joked that he should run for mayor.)

Making new friends as we golf cart down the beach.

Fortunately it wasn’t that crowded, so we really didn’t stop too much!

Golf carts and the occasional Kawasaki contraptions are allowed on the beach, but NO cars!!!

Satisfied with a day of exploring, we headed to dinner at a restaurant on the wharf so Patti and Diann could watch the sunset.

The next day Billy and I fished again, and once more he was successful while I managed to lose three of his fishing lures.

At least I struck a striking figure with my Aussie cap and fishing shirt. (It’s more important to look good than to fish well.)

We then swung back by the camp, picked up Diann and Patti and golf-carted over to Oyster Hatchery. Yes, you read that correctly.

When the Deep Water Horizon blew out and caused a huge oil spill several years ago, the crude oil settled to the bottom and destroyed nearly all of the oyster beds off the coast of Louisiana. The state used some of the funds from the lawsuit against British Petroleum to build and operate this oyster hatchery, where they are breeding and growing THOUSANDS of oysters then re-introducing them into the Gulf.

They also grow their own algae to feed the oysters they are growing in all of the tanks.

Growing algae to feed all of the hungry oysters at the hatchery in Grand Isle.

There are many things that make Grand Isle unique, but one of them is the range of people you meet here. There are blue collar and wealthy folks alike, all who have some type of a “camp” they come to, whether it’s a mobile home on stilts, or a gorgeous Southern Living worthy place. But they all rub shoulders eventually, either at the beach, the bay, or the store. Funniest thing I saw was this flyer posted at all of the cash registers in the grocery store.

Apparently this couple, and their company, had worn out their welcome.

Lastly, the island used to be covered in Oak Trees, but the hurricanes have taken their toll so that not as many remain. There is an effort to plant more of them because they hold the soil together, and provide shade and habitat for the birds. The ones they still have are very majestic.

We headed back home on Friday. Another 11-hour travel day, most of it spent in DFW airport for a three-hour layover, but it was all worth it. It was all worth it to see this most unusual and colorful part of the Gulf Coast.

I hope to go back someday soon and do more exploring, eating and visiting.

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In the meantime, laizzez les bon temps roullez!