New Orleans Plantations: Whitney & Laura Small-Group Tour

4.64

(429 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

We got picked up right outside our hotel in New Orleans — I was still finishing my coffee and honestly didn’t know what to expect from a “plantation tour.” Our guide, Marcus, had this easy way of mixing stories about Lake Pontchartrain with bits of his own family history. The van was small enough that everyone could hear him (and each other), which made it feel less like a tour and more like a road trip with strangers you might actually want to talk to.

The first stop was Whitney Plantation. I’d read about it but nothing really prepared me for walking past those weathered slave cabins and reading the names etched into stone. It was quiet, even with our group there — just birds and the crunch of gravel underfoot. You use your phone for the audio tour, so you can go at your own pace. I remember standing by the freedmen’s church, listening to one of the recorded stories, and feeling this weird mix of anger and gratitude that places like this exist now. The air felt heavy but honest, if that makes sense.

After Whitney we drove along the Great River Road — sugarcane fields everywhere, green as far as you could see. Marcus pointed out Oak Alley from the van window; he joked about how many movies have filmed there (I tried to spot which tree was in “Interview with the Vampire” but failed). We stopped for photos in front of Evergreen’s oak-lined entrance too — it almost looked fake against the sky.

Laura Plantation was different — brighter colors on the house, more Creole than I expected. Our guide there, Claudine, told these wild stories about four generations living under one roof (and all their drama). She didn’t shy away from talking about slavery either; she even pointed out where kids would play near the slave quarters. At one point she laughed when I asked her to repeat a French phrase — my accent is apparently hopeless. By then it was hot enough that even the sugarcane looked tired. The whole day left me thinking about how tangled up beauty and pain are in Louisiana’s history. I still think about that church at Whitney sometimes.