IRONTON, La. - Four streets. Forty homes. Not a single soul in sight.

Welcome to Ironton, La.

Population: 0.

Myrtle Grove, two miles to the south on La.-23 is empty too. As is West Pointe a la Hache, Socola, Port Sulphur, Empire, Buras, Triumph, Venice - all shanty towns that sit along the west bank of the Mississippi in a 63-mile stretch before the river dumps into the Gulf of Mexico.

Last week, Hurricane Katrina first touched the Gulf Coast on this finger-shaped delta.

Rossaire Barthelemy of Jesuit Bend, who rode out the storm in the home he has lived in since 1944, said of Katrina's 150-mph blow, "That was the worst wind in the world."

Yesterday morning, while Mr. Barthelemy, 81, his son, Raymond, and his nephew, Wilson Barthelemy, kibitzed in the Barthelemy garage, friends Trevellre Bartholomew and Calvin Sylve arrived with fresh supplies. Rossaire Barthelemy, who has been without power since the storm, said he welcomed the delivery.

"I've been eating shrimp every day; I'm sick of shrimp," said Mr. Barthelemy in a Cajun lilt that was hard to understand.

Mr. Bartholomew said he was pleased to help the Barthelemys.

"We all family here," he said.

The Barthelemys have the distinction of being among the last people still residing on Highway 23, where for years the independent-minded residents have made their living working for the oil refineries, the parish, in their citrus fields, or on their boats.

Although the wind blew hard in Jesuit Bend, most of the homes remain standing. Not so just a few miles from the Barthelemy residence, where Plaquemines Parish sheriff's Deputy Herman Rollie had the southbound lane barricaded.

He said authorities allowed residents to return to their homes in Ironton, Socola, and the other southern towns last week - but only for a day or two. No power, no running water, health concerns, and few stable structures decided the issue.

"There's nobody left," he said of the 3,000 or so residents who call this delta finger home.

At Ironton, Deputy Rollie's word proved true.

The town sits one block off Highway 23 and then stands out into four short blocks that run perpendicular to one of the two levees that are supposed to protect the west bank towns from the river. There's a mix of mobile homes, shanties, bungalows, and even a pair of brick residences.

The homes are in varying degrees of destruction. Some have been splintered and shredded. Others appear fine from the front but have gaping holes in their roofs or sides.

The storm cleaned out the closets and sent shirts, pants, underwear, and dresses into the barbed wire fence that runs along the town's western edge. In a ditch in front of the fence, everything from mattresses and toilets to chairs, picnic tables, and ATVs lay muddied and useless.

Felled trees and busted vehicles blocked off two of the four streets. A short-haired mutt lay dead in the street. A tan cat - the only sign of life in Ironton - ran across the street and under a porch. Except for the occasional crow that cawed and the whistling of the hot easterly breeze slicing through the gutted homes, it was as quiet as a wake.

Surprisingly, Alice Higgins' green mailbox still stood in front of her home at 128 Bradish. Ms. Higgins was not at home.

On the steps of the town's church - St. Paul Missionary Baptist - the pages of a frayed Bible frayed in the gulf wind. An inscription read: "Presented to Clifford Gasper, Jr., and Mary Ethel on Aug. 25, 1972."

South of Ironton, where the land is exposed to water on both sides, the damage is more severe. Myrtle and West Point a la Hache have been turned upside down. Farther south still, foul smelling water filled with oil, gas, diesel fuel, and other chemicals has filled fields where the area's few cattle herds grazed.

Yesterday, some of the cattle were observed being taken to safety. Others wandered onto the highway median in search of food.

The flooding was such that it damaged some of the area's cemeteries - where the dead are buried above ground because the land is below sea level. A few miles north of Port Sulphur, a power company crew from Florida stopped to photograph a casket that had floated onto the highway's shoulder.

Port Sulphur, the area's largest town, looked as if someone had tossed all its buildings out of a plane. Dale Pelas and Ty Wiltz, investigators for the parish coroner, spent the day searching for bodies. They found none.

Only three are confirmed dead in the parish, a stunning figure, they said, considering the amount of damage. In neighboring St. Bernard Parish, the news was grimmer yesterday, after 30 bodies were discovered in a nursing home. Hundreds are feared dead there, largely because more people refused to leave during the storm.

"We're not as hard-headed here as those people," said Mr. Wiltz, not unkindly.

Mr. Pelas said he was told power might not return to the area for a year or longer.

No power, no people. A whole string of tombstones.

"There is talk," he said, "they're not going to rebuild."

Contact George Tanber at:

gtanber@theblade.com

or 419-724-6050.

First Published September 8, 2005, 2:35 p.m.