Hoosier Daddy

The camera slowly pans to an empty basketball court somewhere in rural Indiana. The net sways in the breeze as the narrator wonders wistfully where Larry Bird has gone.
ESPN cheese I know, but there is no doubting the basketball tradition in the state of Indiana.  "Hoosiers" high school Milan's dream run to a state title, the last undefeated squad at Indiana in 1976, Notre Dame's amazing upset of UCLA's juggernaut, Valparaiso guard Bryce Drew's dramatic buzzer beater, and Butler's back-to-back final runs are just a few examples of the state's hardwood history.
While pondering the career of the last great white hope, I trod down Highway 10 in the Hoosier state towards Roselawn. The town boasts two nudist resorts, the Sun Aura and the Ponderosa. The Ponderosa is considered "family friendly" which I guess means you get to bring your naked dog and naked children too.
In the old days the most famous of the Roselawn nudist getaways was Naked City. The restaurant there included glass top tables and the waiters wore only an apron. Unfortunately, legal trouble for the owner, appropriately named Dick, led to Naked City's closing in 1986.
Seeing as it was too early in the day to drop my pack and my pants I continued on several more miles to Lake Village. A less flashy place, everyone I met seemed to be wearing something called clothing.
I inquired at the library what this strange attire might be and wondered also if there was a church whose property I could lay my head upon for the evening. Sandy, the librarian, made some calls and was unable to locate anyone from the Presbyterian church next door. Ever resourceful, she had a plan B and contacted the fire department, who agreed to allow me to set up in the park next door to their offices. Just as I was settling down there I got a phone call from Alyssa, whom I had also met earlier at the biblioteca (Spanish word which means place where one dances with books).
Alyssa and her husband Gus invited me over to their place for a delicious dinner. Also present at table was Rob, a co-worker of theirs who had done a lot of section hiking on the Appalachian Trail. All three work for the local nature conservancy, which has purchased old farm land and restored the original prairie habitat on property just south of Lake Village. Why the ADT runs north of here along the same old corn and soybean fields rather than passing the conservancy and showing off a bit of the state's diversity is anyone's guess.
Gus and Alyssa are also practitioners of the DIY ethos, working to be self-sufficient whenever possible. Our meal included succulent honey, bread, potatoes, and kale all produced on their property. I think many of us will wish we possessed their skill set when the American economy collapses. Not like that could ever happen.

18 miles/1112 total miles

Precipitation Aggravation

July 24: Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. I know I sure did. After several grueling days of heat I made one little innocent wish for cooler weather. Shortly thereafter another wicked thunderstorm, appeared shortly after I reached a bump in the road named Asphaltum.
My choices were A)hide under a tree B)hide under a bunch of trees C)stand in the middle of a field like a lightning rod. I picked B, so please feel free to evaluate and perhaps eviscerate my choice.
As you can probably tell, I did avoid a lightning ride, but the rain kept up for several hours before petering out in the early afternoon. Soaked and exhausted, I limped into the town of Kniman, admiring both of the houses there before collapsing on the Methodist church steps.
My presence there was utterly ignored with one exception. As I sat on the steps soon after arriving a man pulled up in a truck and yelled out, asking if I was okay. I started my spiel about what I was doing there, but he interrupted and repeated the query. I said yes and he peeled out of the parking lot. A Good Samaritan on a strict schedule I gathered.
I had completed the Eastern time zone portion of the walk earlier in the day, so with my seven o'clock start I had been on the trail for ten hours. I chose to make the church my home for the evening, set up my portable home, laid down, and remained there unmolested for the course of the evening.

P.S.: Pictured above is what Indianans refer to as a "hill." Note the slight incline.

17 miles/1088 total miles

Grinding on the Grid

July 22: I got underway early in the morning, trying to gain ground before the vicious burning eyeball was high in the sky. I needed to do laundry and resupply, so I diverted my route slightly to Winamac, one of the last significant towns before the border with Illinois.
I was feeling great and rapidly chewed up the eleven miles, which included crossing the Tippecanoe River. American president William Henry Harrison made his name here defeating a band of Shawnee warriors missing their leader, Tecumseh, who apparently called in sick that day. Harrison's slogan during his subsequent presidential campaign was "Tippecanoe and some other guy too."
I managed to continue my string of good luck in beating the worst of the weather, arriving in Winamac just before a powerful thunderstorm. I sat in comfort inside the Laundry and Tan whilst chaos reigned outside, gale force winds scattering lawn furniture and turning a once majestic tree into kindling. In case there is any confusion, I was doing laundry - I figure my tan is pretty solid at this juncture in the trip.
By the time my errands were done it was too late to move onward, so I settled at a dirt cheap motel with plans to move down Highway 14 on the morrow.

11 miles/1054 total miles

July 23: The first day of my third month hoofing it across America brought me to Highway 14. There is nothing special about this road, except I spent a long time marching upon its black top. Very little happened during the walk except for some occasional wildlife spotting: a dead weasel (should this be wildcorpse spotting instead?) and a fascinating grasshopper called the Carolina Sandblaster, which resembles a butterfly when in flight.
The monotony left me time to ponder Indiana's grid system of numbering county roads. A very simple plan, the flat nature of the state makes the system possible. The grid runs outward from two base roads in the center of a county, usually state highways. One is an east-west road, the other a north-south road. If you travel one mile north of the base east-west road you will find 100 North, two miles is 200 North, three miles 300 North, and so on until the county line. The grids make judging distance a snap and addresses use the same process so you can gauge your progress every time you pass a home.
Let's see how good a teacher I am. In the comments section answer this question: If you reach 250 W, how far are you from a base road and do those roads run east-west or north-south?
I dismissed class to allow the students to complete their homework assignment and woke up in Medaryville. There I met a couple of fabulous people, Kent, who allowed me to rest in his yard and use his laptop and Faith, who served me good food and good beer in a mason jar while telling me about the town's inhabitants.
I found the Methodist church and took up residence just before a rain storm hit like Mike Tyson used to before he got all introspective. I waited out the deluge on the porch and set up camp just as the most amazing residents of Medaryville came up to introduce themselves.
The Perry family was headed this night by matriarch Tammy, who brought me enough food to fuel a battalion and volunteered to clean what dirty clothes I had. Son Justin did an impromptu interview of this guy right here for the Francesville paper while the other lad Ethan showed me his vast collection of U.S. Army memorabilia. Daughter Rachel added many insightful questions of her own and the youngest, Bethany, told me about the family's trips to Michigan.
All of these things occurred at once, making for a busy last hour of the day. Alas, the sun did set, bringing an end to the waking hours and I again had to say goodbye to a new group of wonderful friends.

17 miles/1071 total miles

Lake Bruce Bruce Lake

I slept in a bit this morning after the drunken hooligans at the pool had kept me up late last night. I believe I am finally being served that cold bit of revenge I earned back during my college years when I participating in such loathsome behavior, which I did not enjoy at all.
Nevertheless, I shot out of Rochester following a quick visit to their library and headed down country road 100 North for virtually the entire day. I had to keep my head down and go slow with conditions hotter than they had ever been and shade a rare luxury. The wind was my benefactor for the early afternoon, limiting the damage of the sun's blazing rays.
The highlight of the day was an irrigation sprinkler whose target mainly consisted of the road - and me. The tarmac did not seem to appreciate the moisture as much as I did, keeping my head underneath for several minutes until soaked. Five minutes later I was completely dry.
Passing motorists, including one man on a tractor kept me supplied with liquid refreshment. If not for their intercession I would have been mighty parched as the way was lacking in pretty much everything besides corn. A foundry worker handed me a Miller Light near the end of the day. I figured I wasn't too likely to be pulled over for a DUI, so I accepted his offer.
Hoosier Hideaway appeared in my site lines just after seven and I stumbled to the office and met the owner, Tom, who showed me where to plop down. He no doubt felt sorry for such a heat-dazed fool and allowed me to stay for free.
Once I crawled into my tent the daily gnat killing began. No matter how fast I zip open the fly, flop in, and zip closed, the insects have already infested indoor, or inmesh in this case. I try to herd them into either of the two flaps of on top, which have an opening I can easily seal, creating a death zone for all of the buzzing suckers who fall for the trap.
Once I had dealt with my home invaders the heat was still a problem. With no wind, the air had failed to cool down much even after sunset. So much for the new religion - I will have to come crawling back and beg the Methodists for forgiveness. Only after a couple hours of lying still and pouring water on myself was I able to finally catch some z's.

14 miles/1043 total

Founding Religion

July 20: Authors over the centuries have made symbolic comparisons between physical journeys and spiritual journeys. I'll not try foolishly to compete with the observations of the more brilliant ones, but I will say there is clearly a higher force at work here. I may have even found religion or rather, founded one. With all respect to the Methodists, who have helped me in many ways these last months, these last days of repressive sun have led me into the arms of another. I now practice windism and dedicate all my free time to worshiping and glorifying the virtues of a cool breeze. I imagine you were expecting some sort of deep thought. Sorry, you have the wrong channel.
The heat was indeed unbearable today so I started early, around seven, to try to make some ground early. By noon I had covered ten miles and reached the tiny town of "Macy"'s" Thanksgiving Day Parade. I had previously passed Things to do in "Denver" when you're Dead, Mr. "Deedsville", and "Birmingham" and eggs, a series of towns named by Chris Berman.
In Macy I was greeted by Donna and Brenda at the Macy Elevator grain and feed store. They had seen the article in the Tribune that morning and recognized me as the only idiot who would be walking the Nickel Plate in the midst of day when the pavement was more suitable for cooking eggs over easy than walking. I was invited in and plied with water, chips, and chocolate. We talked for a bit while I rested and got revitalized.
The break was just what I needed and my new friends mentioned that the trail would be shadier on the way to Rochester. They turned out to be only partially correct. Yes, there were tall trees up and down the right side of the path. Unfortunately, I was headed in a northerly direction and my good buddy the sun was on my left side.
There was no where to hide from the rays for the most part. I rested where I could, underneath benches and behind the slats of a wooden fence. The last miles to Rochester took all afternoon and I only finished the Nickel Plate just before seven, leaving a team of sweat bees behind, fully sated on the rivulets running from my body.
The sun having gone lower and town in sight, I rushed through the last two miles and arrived in the hotel district of Rochester, which boasts a whopping two such businesses of a reputable nature. Neither of these had a room thanks to a Kroger convention. Not coincidentally I think, this company rejected my first ever job application. I'm not bitter because the Piggly Wiggly hired me and Kroger went out of business in the Southeast. Eat your instant karma Kroger!
Jill at the Comfort Inn was not to be stopped by the grocer's evil machinations and managed to deliver me up a patch of grass behind the hotel for my tent. She also arranged a ride from Bob, a regular resident there, to a truck stop where I showered in one of their coffins. I kept slipping on the soap, but I didn't even have enough space to fall down.
The backyard ended up being a terrible option. A drunken group out by the pool kept me awake along with a couple of deer rutting in the woods just behind my tent. Around midnight I still had not slept when Jill approached and announced a room was now available and she had discounted the rate for me. Even so, I hated to splurge on the cost with my depleted funds, but tomorrow is scheduled as a triple digit day and I had to get some sleep - and pray for wind.

17 miles/1029 total miles

An Unlit Aorta

July 19: I'm becoming sort of like Kurtz in a way. Not that I'm insane or so I still believe. Rather, the further I travel the more I run into people who regard my journey with befuddlement or disbelief. The recent heat only adds to the shocked expressions as I shuffle on by. Some are practical enough to offer water, which I accept, or rides, which I decline unless they are off-trail.
I added a new pet today who isn't cleaning up my image - a fly who seems to be tied to my head, orbiting my noggin like a satellite. The picture of a sweaty, tired looking man cursing and swatting at air is not the one I would prefer to present to the casual observer.
Besides philosophizing and swearing I also met some new friends today. Jo, who I met on the road, thought I was crazy, so she took me to meet her buddy Joey. Joey and her husband, a retired Air Force colonel, live on property formerly owned by the legendary musician Cole Porter. Joey served me a delicious ham sandwich and used her influence to persuade the Peru Tribune newspaper to interview your favorite madman about the project.
On the way to the meeting I passed by the International Circus Hall of Fame. Peru is home to a world famous amateur circus and this week is Circus Week. Sadly, I could find no where to stay in town and had to miss yet another interesting event.
I met Sarah, the reporter for the Tribune, at the Toll House in Peru, a lovely mother and daughter owned coffee joint on the Wabash River. I'd love to recount what I said, but the heat had reduced me to one functioning brain cell, enough to talk, but not enough to record what I said.
I passed thru Peru in about an hour and reached the Nickel Plate Trail, which I will travel on for the next couple of days. Absolutely smoked from the heat, I laid down on a park bench three miles into the trail and drifted off to sleep. I had no nightmares but I do remember someone softly whispering, "...the horror, the horror."

P.S.: I'm now over 1,000 miles! 16 miles/1012 total miles

Thank you to recent donors:
Joey Kubesch
Steve Foster and the FNRA friends and family

Back in the Saddle or God I Wish I Really Had a Horse

My return to the trail finds Indiana in the death grip of summer. The temperature today was in the nineties and the heat index hit triple digits. The trend is set to continue for the rest of the week. Vegas is now setting odds on whether heat stroke or dehydration will fell me first, so step up and make your wager.
My late start didn't help matters either. David drove me back to Sweetser as early as possible, but the four hour car ride and one hour lost to the time zone shift meant I was bound to begin while the sun was set to broil.
The first few miles, which I spent on the Sweetser Switch Trail, were relatively shady. The country roads I trod later on, however, put me in the bull's eye of the burning star's glare. Constant bombardment with solar rays left my energy level lower than the limbo bar at a Gumby family reunion.
Water was at least not a problem. I encountered several shocked on-lookers who filled my bottles once they were done questioning my sanity.
Not until late in the day did I reach the vicinity of Mississinewa Reservoir. Nearly everything in the nearby area is named for Frances Slocum, a white woman who was abducted by Miami Indians from her Pennsylvania home and taken to Indiana where her brothers miraculously found her almost sixty years later. Despite acquiring the distinctly unflattering moniker, Short Chubby Bear during her stay with the tribe, she considered them her real family and refused to leave to live with whitey.
As far as my own saga, things were looking ugly as I arrived at Mississinewa. Luckily, Megan, one of the employees at the Miami SRA there had seen me wobbling along and took pity on me. She and her freshly minted husband Brent drove me out to the campsites to let me choose one, took me back to the offices to sign in, and dropped me back at the chunk of turf I would call home for the night.
Megan had clearly inherited the Good Samaritan gene. Shortly after I had set up my tent her mother and father, Paul and Mel, arrived with a huge plate of food and ice cold water. They sat with me as I ate and we discussed my hike. I learned from them that the Frances Slocum SRA, where the ADT had me camping, was a dump and considered a dangerous place. I had made a seemingly random decision during the day to head toward Miami instead. Chalk up another victory for serendipity.

14 miles/996 total miles