Discovering Indiana

From I-65, Indiana looks rather dull. I have seen Indiana from this perspective almost exclusively. I know the exit with the Wendy's and Starbucks well. I always enjoy passing the wind farm. I regularly mess up when going through Indianapolis, and welcome the scenic rolling hills that usher me into Cincinnati. However, this trip has taught me that Indiana has much more to offer than what can be seen from one of its main thoroughfares.

We began our day in Marion, and soon found ourselves on the Sweetser Switch Trail, a modest 3 mile trail, but full of civic pride. Little placards decorated the tree lined trail. It was clear the community valued this path, and we felt it as it energized us for what would turn into the most beautiful day of biking yet.

From the first little trail, we found ourselves traversing county roads that hadn't seen cars in days. The soy bean fields, tomato groves, fluttering wheat smiled as we passed. The wind had not yet picked up full force. My dad hypothesized that when it is cooler out the wind is less harsh. I was not convinced, but then he brought up some argument about the different temperatures between the air and the ground. Knowing neither of us had any facts on the matter, I let his reasoning stand, and felt blessed to not be battling the wind. Instead, we settled into more of a flirtatious dance with it. Right as the wind picked up, we hopped onto the Nickel Plate Trail.

The first person we met on the path was a man in an electronic wheelchair with two American flags waving from each arm, and a veteran ball cap. As we approached we saw him joyfully popping wheelies. We did the obligatory nod and smile. As we rode away, he jokingly said, "don't break the speed limit." Those little moments are just the fuel I need to keep going. We got a bit too immersed in this beautiful trail, ending up beyond the google maps directions. That is where I have to give my shout out to GPS smart phones. Yes, that's right. I love it.

The phone helped us chart a new route into Logansport that took us along the bank of the Wabash River. This might have been my favorite part of today. The river on one side. A windy road that actually had a few hills. Horses and cows decorating the other side. Lush forests. It was truly divine. The strip malls of Logansport and the semi-trucks carrying supplies for them were a harsh awakening after such a delightful interlude. I was ready to just get lunch and go. My dad's bike cleat had other plans...

We rolled up to the diner. I dismount, my dad has his left foot out, but his right foot is literally stuck to the pedal. He had to untie his shoe and pull his foot out leaving a rather ridiculous scene. It seems one of the bolts had come out of his cleat, and the clip out function of his cleat was shot. But, not to fear, Jim rolled up on his motorcycle ready to save the day. I have a theory that there is a special bond between touring bicyclists and motorcyclists. Our experience with Jim definitely added data. It seems we had our malfunction directly in front of a "bike shop." I put that in quotations because this bike shop was really more of a guy's tinkering garage. But this guy, Mark, was one hell of a guy. Mark and Jim made it their personal mission to fix our problems free of charge. They accomplished their mission and when we offered money, Jim refused telling us to just pay it forward.

So we biked on. We found ourselves on a busy road we did not like, and went to find an alternative route when we accidentally happened upon the final bike path of the day, The Panhandle Pathway. This took us all the way to our final destination, Winamac, IN.

In Winamac, we went to the local pizza joint, strapped a pizza to the back of the tandem. We then rolled across the street to the grocery store and picked up a bottle of wine we stuffed into one of our paniers. And we rode 3 miles to the Tortuga Inn. The Tortuga Inn is owned by two artists who are clearly artists first, and then B & B owners. Everything is a little rough around the edges, but there is character here. It sits on the Tippecanoe River, and we could sit outside to enjoy our celebratory feast.

I will never again judge Indiana by the views from I-65.