We had a wonderful breakfast at the Mt. Vernon Inn, which has a lovely internal garden. We lingered a bit but with cool morning temperatures and clear skies we made for an early start. I was excited and hopeful about today as we would be entering Amish country and share our bike path with families in horses and buggies. Our culinary discovery of sauerkraut balls indicated to me that we were in a place where my dormant German heritage would flourish.
So with hope and lots of electrolyte-enhanced water, we left Mt. Vernon with Millersburg as our afternoon destination 45 miles away. A trace of mist is rising from the river, which is moving slowly out of town. A pair of fishermen in kayaks are trying their luck from their cool perch in the Kokosing River.
The Kokosing Gap Trail leads us into a shaded wood protected from the sun. A bit of dappled light hits the pavement leading to a cool ride. The river wraps around the trail and the vantage from bridges passing over it show a waterway that is more placid than what we have seen so far on our trip. With vegetation on both sides, it feels as if we are moving through an undisturbed forest.
Crossing a road, a buck and doe stand looking at us unworried; Ted thinks they are ready for a handout. We soon take our first break at the old train station in Gambier, which is adjacent to Kenyon College, a prestigious liberal arts school that count Paul Newman, William Rehnquist and Allison Janney as alums. It is a lovely campus but Ted and I are more interested in the railroad engine and cars that rest on an abandoned track. The station is here because Kenyon College would not give right of way to the railroad unless it created a station at the college. We consider taking a tour of campus but after spotting the hill we need to climb up, we turn around and continue on.
Ted harmlessly runs over a snake nestled in a road crack just outside the college, chipmunks run amuck along the trail and a lone quail flies directly in front of our path. Birds continue to chirp in the background. Corn (have I mentioned corn before?) is doing better in this portion of Ohio as the stalks are between 3 and 4 feet high.
We are peddling through a riparian refuge that is keeping the sun off our bodies. Though our trail is flat, hills have started to rise in the background creating a texture of undulating green. These trails are well appointed with facilities, picnic tables and shelters as one pops up every 5 miles or less.
Danville takes us off the trail and into the direct sun. Tiny houses dot the town and a quick detour takes us to the Mohican Valley Trail where we must share the trail with horses. I can’t wait.
Horses must stay on the right side of the trail, but it appears that many do not abide by this rule as there are many samples of horse emissions scattered on both sides of the trail. So rather than look ahead and outward for the sights of the areas, we look down and swerve around these equine obstacles. Unlike the other trails we have been on, this one has a distinctive odor.
We are now riding up the rolling hills that were viewed from afar and for the first time needing to exert ourselves. Soon we reach the Bridge of Dreams, a 370-foot covered bridge, which is the second longest such bridge in Ohio. No Amish yet.
Passing under a large overpass we stop to take pictures of a barn with an old Mail Pouch ad on its side. Just as I turn to leave I spot an Amish buggy that is leaving the trail to enter the main highway. The fading clip-clop of horse hoofs tell me that I have missed my opportunity.
We start up another hill not knowing that it is the start of a 4.5 mile climb. I settle into a groove and try to identify different trees and other things as I pass by them. Oak. Cherry. Ash. Hickory. Sycamore. Dogwood. Lots of slate protruding from a notch we bike through. Gun shots in the back ground. We don’t slow down.
We crest the hill to an open wheat field and start our 3.5 mile coast downhill. We should reach our lunch destination soon.
