Day 73

I awoke at sunrise and loaded the buggy. I jumped on 190 and headed west. 

It was a tough morning. I battled fatigue and other things. I was hoping to make the vigil Mass at St. Anthony of Padua in Krotz Springs later that afternoon. 

Around 9:30a.m. A woman named Sabrina pulled over on the shoulder. She told me she passed me a few times, and gave me a bag with Mcdonalds breakfast, a large Sprite, and some money! She was camera shy. I couldnt thank her enough. We parted ways. I ate my breakfast in awe feeling thankful.

It was the kick I needed. I made it into Livonia and stopped at a gas station. I drank lots of water and charged my phone until noon time. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, I hit the road. 

I made it through to Lottie, just to the outskirts of the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge. 

I found myself in a conundrum. I stumbled upon a bridge with very little shoulder. I decided to try and make it across as quick as possible. I was able to make it a few hundred yards and then traffic started to become overwhelming. I shimmied the buggy up onto the curb, and in an awkward pose, was stuck.
As I looked into the distance, I could not see the end of the bridge. I was too far from the start to turn back around, the cars sped buy. I couldn’t maneuver the buggy back along the curb either.
I did something I am not too happy about. Thinking and acting fast, I loaded my pack with essentials and abandoned the buggy. I actually threw it over the side of the bridge. It was a good 25-30 feet down. It landed with a crash. There would be no way of getting it back. 
Fumbling past my sleeping bag and tarp in my hands, I reached into my pack and grabbed my phone. I took out google maps trying to see how far the bridge went. It just kept going…
I started to move and then a police officer stopped me! She was actually extremely nice, which surprised me. She told me she encounters this all the time with travelers. She said someone called saying I was traveling with a stroller, but they must have been mistaken. I stayed quiet and was really hoping she wouldn’t look down over the bridge. She offered me a ride to the other side of the spillway. It was 4 miles.
I thanked her and got in the back. I suddenly felt really foolish. I felt really bad about what I did. All this woman wanted to do was help me. If I had hung on to the buggy for a few more moments, not only would I have not littered, we probably would have loaded it into the back of her cruiser. My actions weren’t very respectful towards the town, the refuge, the community, or towards what has been given to me.
We chatted along the drive, and she actually decided to take me further than she had to, over another bridge with a large shoulder, and into the town of Krotz Springs. She dropped me off at an Exxon where I could get a good meal. I looked at the clock on my phone, it was quarter to 4p.m. I could make the vigil Mass in town. I loaded the pack onto my back and carried the sleeping bag wrapped in tarp.

I arrived just in time for Mass, and afterwards spoke with Fr. Jason. I sought his counsel on the matter of the buggy, and we looked at it from all different angles. He also gave me permission to stay on the property. He was a very nice man! 
I strolled the neighborhood, and got some red beans and rice at a little shack along highway 190. I retired to the parish office building and fell asleep on a couch in the main hall.