#21 Holly Beach
April 25, 2008 by chuval
Mais sometimes a Cajun just has to get away for a while. They need to kick back, relax, hang out with friends, and maybe throw back a beer or twenty. Growing up in Louisiana, there was no better place for this than Holly Beach, or the Cajun Riviera as we like to call it.
Located in southwest Louisiana, Holly Beach was the weekend getaway spot for Coonasses and their families. It was a loose community of around 500 camps organized around a strip of beach, and we’re not talking about million dollar beach houses. Most of the camps were just trailers, with a few nicer structures jacked up on stilts to protect against flooding. Holly Beach was a poor man’s beach, where just about anyone could go for a good time. It wasn’t one of those stuck up beaches with the blue water, clean sand, and public intoxication laws. No, it was the type of beach where you wore shoes in the water so you didn’t cut your foot on a broken beer bottle, a place where you’d occasionally see an alligator on the beach. It was the type of place that if you were too lazy to walk 100 ft, you could always drive your truck right up near the water.
Holly Beach is such a big part of Cajun culture that it even inspired several songs, including (Holly Beach) Under the boardwalk, Hurricane Woman, and the Waltz of Holly Beach.
My family would drive down to Holly Beach just about every summer when I was young. We’d head on down to Cameron Parish, cross on the ferry, and drive past the smelly pogie plant, until we reached our destination. My sister and I would play around in the sand and water (shoes on of course) during the day, and our parents would prepare a boiled seafood feast every evening. Afterwards, the adults would usually wind down by kicking back a few beers and playing a friendly game of cards. Many a good time was had there.
I’m talking about Holly Beach in the past tense, because it was completely wiped out by Hurricane Rita, the forgotten hurricane, in 2005. See that photo on the right? That’s a before and after picture. The only thing left standing after the storm was a water tower. Today, a trip to the closest market is a 100 mile round trip, and the water still isn’t safe to swim in, due to sewage contamination issues.
Despite the devastation, all is not lost as Holly Beach is starting to show signs of life. Camps are gradually being rebuilt, though some people are still fighting their insurance companies or FEMA for reimbursement. Cajuns are a resilient people, so I have no doubt that before we know it, Holly Beach will be restored to its former greatness, and its noble citizens will once again have the truest sign of civilization, a drive through daiquiri stand.
In the meantime, cajuns can go to the Isle- an opposite direction- to check out the beach situation. Somehow, fortunately, there are still a bunch of camps, a grocery store and several other things in Grand Isle. We usually go there in the summer. There are other Cajuns out that way as well-
Ahh, Grand Isle, the Other Cajun Riviera. That’s where all the uppity Cajuns go ;).
What, no mention of washed up, decomposing fish parts or the chocolate milk colored water? That’s the quintessential Holly Beach I remember. That and stopping along the way to do some crabbing (turkey-neck on a string) and alligator spotting at one of the small boat launches or bridges along Hwy 27. Ah, good times.
But then, I grew up near Holly Beach, in what could be labeled as a Cajun fringe area. This is where fishing outranks hunting (ok, marginally), and while French is still spoken, there’s enough outside influence that many Cajun surnames are pronounced *literally* (fais pas ca!).
Well, I trying to be nice by saying that the water wasn’t blue. We used to do some crabbing along the road. Some fools were dumb enough to tie a string with meat on it to their wrists. I wonder if anyone ever got pulled in by a gator.
I remember a particular trip to Holly Beach when I was about 11. My cousin and I rode in the back of my grandfather’s El Camino all the way from Abbeville to Holly Beach, past Sulphur and “the smell”. There must have been a million jellyfish that year.
There’s another Riviera that Cajuns like to invade…Gulf Shores, AL. It’s not far from me (Mobile) and every time I go, I see more Cajuns there than Rednecks.
Nothing like the smell of Holly Beach. Funny how the Coonasses jump right over Mississippi and head to Alabama.
I loved Holly Beach during 4th of July! I’m ashamed to admit it, but the first time I ever shop lifted was at Holly Beach. And it was an Alice in Chains cassette tape. Shame.
Growing up in Lydia (Iberia Parish), we always went to Cypremort Point or da poirnt as we called it. I am ashamed to say that I’ve never been to Holly Beach. We still had to keep our shoes on in the water at Cypremort Point.
Remember the big headless dragon… uh, thing out in the water that gushed water down on you when you swam? Wasn’t that at Holly Beach?