A much needed break from the melee of the open road

Having had a good rest at the city park in Missouri Valley, we hit the road with Council Bluffs as our goal. The distance is further winding along the old Lincoln Highway, but the scenery is pleasant. In fact, it's the first time in over a month that I've felt at home with my surroundings, probably due to the verdure of the Loess Hills and the sweet smell of clover and wild roses that permeates the air. I admit the plains have a certain charm, but endless flat prairie just isn't my cup o' tea. I like the comfort of nearby peaks and troughs.

After about 31 miles we make it to the entrance of what is purported to be Manawa State Park, but for 2 more miles all I see are houses and residential blocks. 'Funny place for a campground,' I tell Bud. With a little encouragement from local residents we keep going and finally come into the camping area around 21:30.

Then, a park official meets us at the gate and informs us that there's no room. 'Go on!' I respond in disbelief, 'You've got to be joking.'

'No,' he says, 'we're full up. You're best bet is Glenwood.'

Leaving the park, I notice that there's a trail going in a south-eastern direction, and being in a capricious state of disappointment I turn to Buddy and say, Let's just follow this trail and see where we end up. Well, it turns out--as I later learn from a group of bibulous bikers--we've stumbled upon the beginning of the Wabash Trace Nature Trail, a 63 mile expanse that goes all the way to the Missouri boarder.

Revived and inspired by the sounds of the night I continue walking. No cars to compete with and sure footing all the way, this is like heaven. Buddy drifts in and out of sleep, stirring only at the occasional hoot of an owl, or the creaking of some rusty barn door as it opens and closes in the warm breeze.

By 4:00 am I'm all out of steam, so I role out my sleeping bag on a picnic table that's just off the path and try to sleep. It's hardly been an hour when the dawn slips between the cracks of my eye lids and beckons me to awake. A slight mist is wafting through the foliage on both sides of the trail, and the fresh dew which dabs the surrounding ground cover glistens with soft hues of the first morning light. Buddy comes to life and leaps from the cart when he notices a raccoon up ahead rubbing the remnants of sleep from its eyes. They say there's no rest for the weary, but even the weariest traveler would become instantly revived by the landscape painted on this canvas, of which I feel grateful to be a part.

Through all of the morning and into the afternoon we walk--actually, Bud runs with each new whiff of a rabbit or squirrel. Trees along the causeway form a canopy that shades us from the sun, and the banks of each brook and steam are espoused by wonderfully well-preserved wooden bridges, many dating back to the 19th century when this was a heavily trafficked train route.