I find myself in a quandry. Please bear with me as my stream of consciousness runs amok. If a quandry was similar to a laundry, and a laundromat at that, then my mind could rightly be called a quandromat. There are ideas spinning around like blankets in a big gas dryer. I miss (and when I say miss, I mean desperately so) my trails. When I lived in Peru, which is the Circus Capitol of the World, I had the gorgeous Nickel Plate Trail
to hike, bike, jog and enjoy. Fate moved me quite serendipitously to the D.C. metro area for almost a year and a half. There, even on the outskirts of one of the most populous areas in the country, I had the privilege of renting a house nary a quarter mile down the street from the Mount Vernon Trail, four-and-a-half miles north of Mount Vernon, and a stone’s throw away from Geo. W’s River Farm Garden. Dyke Marsh on the Potomac. Stone arch bridges. Heaven.
Did I mention that I miss these trails?
Okay. Here is what I’m thinking. It may go nowhere, but it may go several miles. There is a seemingly abandoned stretch of railroad that bisects Shelbyville, and cuts southwest through Waldron (past my pal Hank Nuwer’s house, literally) and down through St. Paul, Indiana and beyond. I don’t care about beyond. I only care about the stretch from Sunset Park in Shelbyville to Hidden Paradise campground in St. Paul.
I’ve contacted an Indiana rail-to-trail organization and begun preliminary research into seeing if this is even possible. It is an intriguing thought. Will I tick off the powers that be in my new town? Who would have thought that Miami County would have let something like this happen! There is hope. Until then, I guess I’ll just ride my bike in traffic. Safely, of course.