I had to fight myself for a bit to stick with the ADT leaving Lawrence. Why would this westbound walker want to suddenly turn left and head due south for some 28 miles? Madness! I realized, though, that the goal is to get walkers onto the Flint Hills Nature Trail, which originates in Ottawa, the southern terminus of those 28 miles, and loosely aligns with the Santa Fe Trail, one of the historic wagon trails that passes through here. After fighting the Katy for so much of Missouri, I decided to embrace Kansas with an open mind, so I shoved my objections aside and dutifully marched south.
After a long walk to extricate myself from Lawrence, zigzagging southwestwardly through its red brick residential streets, I found myself on Highway 59, walking deep in the generous shoulder as cars whipped past, enjoying the 70mph speed limit. Soon enough, though, I forked on to “old” Highway 59, which carried me on to Ottawa, many hours later. The walk itself was a race against time. While the night’s weather report had indicated that a thunderstorm would hit around 4pm, when I woke I saw a menacingly black-and-gray wall of clouds miles to the west. Sheets of rain clearly strafed the horizon. The radar revealed a striking slash across Kansas, with a long, diagonal line of thunderstorms bearing eastward. It’s northern edge was the closest part to Lawrence, but as I moved south I might buy myself some time.
This was an eerie walk, with thunder and lightning my constant companion to my right, while clear skies prevailed ahead and to my left. At one point, I thought I was about to get blasted–the winds picked up, I felt a sprinkle, and heard a boom–so I scrambled over a barricade and under a Highway 59 overpass, to ride out the storm. The radar revealed, though, that I still had a half-hour until the storm really hit, so I powered on. 45 minutes later, I reached the next overpass. The storm looked no closer, but I still paused. It felt like I’d hit on a ten-and-three, got a four, and was about to hit again. Still, I had a long walk and I didn’t want to waste time, so I rolled the dice (mixing my gambling metaphors). Not only did I make it dry to Ottawa, I also arrived with 20 minutes left in Pizza Time’s lunch buffet. And I can do a lot of damage in 20 minutes.
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I was not as fortunate after lunch.
I spent a little time enjoying Ottawa’s Main Street, one of the best-preserved that I’ve encountered on the walk. Whereas many towns’ Main Streets bear the scars of economic and population decline, often with the accompanying punch delivered by Walmart or Dollar General, Ottawa’s is filled with local shops, all seemingly operational. The buildings are aged, of course, but maintained and reflecting local pride. Meanwhile, the Dollar General that I passed was out of business.
Nonetheless, I pulled myself away to continue the walk, westward now, as I joined the Flint Hills Nature Trail. Not long after, I was forced to leave it, detouring around a section with a decrepit bridge. At that point, the skies opened up and a heavy downpour commenced. Cars started bustling past as well, on a surprisingly busy gravel road. As I spun at one point to corral my poncho against some uncooperative gusts, a car pulled up alongside. “Where are you headed?”, the man asked from his very dry seat.” “Denver!” The man paused. “Well, I’m not going that far.” “Ha! I’m walking there–that’s the goal.” After a pause, to let that wash over him, he added, “OK, well I’d offer you a ride, but if you’re ok, I’m ok.” “I’m ok!”, I declare, and then thank him as he drives on.
My short experience with Kansans thus far has been very positive, reminding me of the early parts of this walk in Indiana. Every clerk is curious and most are bold enough to ask questions; some drivers are inclined to pause their cars to check in. My favorite moment came on my walk to Lawrence. I was following a gravel road early in the morning; the sun was rising brightly just behind me. A dumptruck came barreling towards me. Now, after this many weeks on the road, I’ve become rather complacent about opposing traffic. Big trucks, in particular, have been consistently excellent about providing a very wide berth when passing. On this lone occasion, though, the dump truck careened right by me, forcing me to make my own berth by jumping a couple of feet into the overgrown shoulder. The reality is that I could have held my ground and been fine; it wasn’t a collision-course or anything. But it was close enough–and the truck big enough–to make a greater margin of error desirable. Whatever. I kept walking.
Three minutes later, I heard a beeping. The dumptruck was traveling back towards me, in reverse. Had it missed a pickup? Did it want to finish the job? I moved to the other side of the road and kept walking, until it pulled up right beside me. “Excuse me,” the driver said, “I really want to apologize. The sun was right in my eyes and I didn’t see you until the last second. I feel really bad about it.” I was, I confess, dumbstruck by the courtesy. I promptly expressed my appreciation for the gesture and shook his hand, and we were both on our way.
In any case, there are no dumptrucks on the Flint Hills trail, and after that brief detour on Thursday, I’ll be trail-bound on that through Saturday. The FH is the largest rail-trail in Kansas and it immediately reminds me of the Katy, with a well-packed, flat gravel walkway and a green tunnel overhead. As I proceed, though, it becomes a bit more diverse and rustic; the well-manicured trail gives way to what feels like a lightly-used truck track, with two cleared footpaths where the tires plowed through, but nature encroaching in all other areas. While “hills” might be overstating things, the terrain is rolling a little bit, and it’s remarkable how much this opens up the sky overhead (at least, when it’s not filled with storm clouds). Grasshoppers, swarms of small butterflies, and deer scatter in all directions, while wildflowers (and the inevitable spiderwebs) line the sides.
My last stop on Thursday came in Pomona, where I veered off-route to reach the “center” and took a half-hour break in Casey’s to charge devices and hydrate. From there, I headed a few miles further downtrail and set up camp, as the rains resumed. It was, without question, the worst night’s sleep of the trip, if it can even be characterized as “sleep.” The ADT’s notes indicate that the railroad running parallel to the Flint Hills trail through this stretch is the busiest one in Kansas. It also likes to blare its horns as it approaches intersections. Beyond that, people rolled through the trail on ATVs between midnight and 1am on a Thursday night. And, on top of that, thunderstorms rolled through off-and-on all night, with greater emphasis on the “on.” I staggered out of the bivy at 5:45, packed up everything in total darkness, and tried to walk out the cobwebs. Fortunately, at least, the rains had exhausted themselves and I had a dry day ahead
Friday split into two parts: the 20 miles leading into Osage City and the 20 miles that followed it. The trail continued to roughen up, making me wonder how much traffic it gets. I encountered one walker and one bicyclist over these two days–along with those midnight ATVers.
The biggest triumph was hitting an open buffet for the second straight day. I was the lone customer at Buzzard’s in Osage City and did my best to do the work of three people, knowing this was my lone shot at food today. The hills picked up a bit more in the afternoon, as did the swarms of tiny butterflies, often erupting around me as I interrupted their vigil.
Free of rain, train, and ATV, the night passed much more easily!
Technical Notes
- Strangely, the ADT’s map of the route through Kansas in its Data Book is incorrect, noting that the route goes through Overbrook and Burlingame, and masking the significant southward approach to Ottawa. Maybe the original plan was to follow the Santa Fe more faithfully?
- ADT waymarks are all over the Flint Hills Nature Trail!
- There’s a really tricky issue on the walk to Ottawa. Near where cars need to leave Highway 59 to join Old 59 southward, a few miles before Ottawa, the walker encounters a problem–Old 59 hits a dead end, just before the highway offramp. Undeterred, I walked to the end, where I discovered that barbed wire blocks access to the offramp. There was enough of a gap in one section for me to shimmy through. Then, from there to the offramp, there was a drainage ditch that would be impassable following heavy rains. Fortunately, the ground was solid enough to make it through. The safest approach is probably to get back on 59 at Stafford and follow it to the Old 59 exit.
- As noted above, the Flint Hills trail is closed soon after Ottawa due to a defunct bridge, but the detour is well marked
- Unlike the Katy, there are no facilities along the Flint Hills trail–no bathrooms, no water taps, no benches.
- The Casey’s in Pomona has two tables/chairs and power outlets
- Vassar doesn’t have any facilities, but it does have a park with a covered area with benches and outlets. Don’t go in that port-a-potty, though!
- Pizza Time’s buffet in Ottawa runs until 2pm (costs around $9), while Buzzard’s Pizza in Osage City has a buffet that goes until 1pm (just $6.50).
- It sure seems like the Flint Hills trail doesn’t run through the center of Osage City–or maybe I was just uncomfortable with walking through people’s backyards. I detoured to the main street through town (which was riddled with construction projects) and then looped back at the end of town. Not a huge imposition and worth the trouble–it’s not like there are a lot of other options between Ottawa and Council Grove!
