Indiana Dunes felt like walking through layers of time — sandy trails, quiet forests, and a wide-open beach framed by pines. It’s a place shaped by ice, wind, and water, still shifting today. After a long, rainy drive north, I was met in Lansing with a warm welcome that made all those miles worth it.

As I left Tippecanoe and drove north through Indiana’s quiet farmland, the countryside began to change—flat fields gave way to scattered lakes and low wetlands. Nearing Indiana Dunes State Park, the land felt shaped by water and time, with hints of glacial history revealing themselves in the pools and shifting sand beneath a wide, open sky.

A quiet morning hike at Tippecanoe River State Park took a turn as the mosquitoes closed in and the air thickened near the stream. Along the trail, I spotted the vivid red caps of Russula emetica—a toxic mushroom with a name as memorable as its effects. I’ve been trying to learn mushroom names, but it’s proving to be a daunting task.

What started as a quiet morning hike at Fall Creek Preserve led to a drive through dust, turbines, and industrial rhythm. Windmills stood still, a mail truck kicked up gravel, and a lot of stacked timber dried under the sun. The patterns and pace of the day were anything but still.

ChatGPT said:

Today was a detour-filled, heat-drenched kind of day. I woke up to birdsong on the farm, with a peaceful start and a surprise visit from 14 species identified by the Merlin Bird ID app. I set out for Fall Creek Gorge but accidentally crossed into Illinois after realizing my Harvest Host reservation was an hour in the wrong direction. Obligated to honor the booking, I arrived in sweltering heat and chatted with a neighbor named Bob about everything from tornadoes to tomatoes. I briefly explored nearby Forest Glen Preserve, a beautiful but ironically low-shade sanctuary, before retreating to my van to battle the 100-degree temps with fans and watermelon. Not much accomplished, but a quirky, memorable stop on my Indiana adventure.

On a sweltering Sunday, I chose the quiet beauty of Shades State Park over the noisy chaos of nearby recreation areas. What started as a peaceful hike turned into a rugged adventure through six steep ravines, mossy creek beds, and forgotten folklore—including the park’s former name, Shades of Death. Along the way, I met lost hikers, climbed a massive ladder, and learned how a fourth-grade classroom once helped save this wild place. After 6 miles of humidity and history, I returned to the farm for a sunset, a cold drink, and a well-earned outdoor shower under the Midwestern sky.

Summary:
A full day exploring Parke County included a scenic hike through Turkey Run State Park and a covered bridge photography adventure. The day began with a detour to the wrong bridge after misreading a map, followed by a hot but rewarding hike through muddy, rain-slicked trails, steep steps, and striking rock formations. After cooling off and recharging, the evening was spent tracking down several covered bridges, including an unexpected encounter in a preserved historic village. Along the way, the day offered both natural beauty and small misadventures, tied together by a mix of curiosity, persistence, and a little humor.

A full day in Indianapolis included a powerful visit to the Kurt Vonnegut Museum and Library, where exhibits on his wartime trauma, censorship, and personal life added depth to his writing. Downtown, the futuristic Artsgarden offered art exhibits and skywalks connecting nearby buildings. A stroll along the Canal Walk revealed a scenic path lined with bridges, modern apartments, and museums, including a quick stop at the Indiana State Museum bookstore. The day ended at a 1,000-acre Harvest Host farm, where the host shared travel stories and local tips before a quiet evening with fellow van travelers.

Visited the Indiana State Capitol in downtown Indianapolis yesterday. Toured the building, admired the blend of old-world architecture and modern function, and took time to photograph details like the grand staircase, the dome, and the murals. Also explored the grounds outside and watched the bustle of the city from the steps. A solid stop for history, architecture, and street photography.

A simple day detoured into the unexpected: After tweaking the suspension on my van for a smoother ride, I encountered a deer with superpowers (and another with three legs), a turtle crossing the road, and wine for sale at CVS—something I’d never seen before. Toss in a surprise tornado warning while riding the bike and you’ve got one of those days that starts off ordinary and ends up as a quirky chapter in vanlife.

A quiet, rainy day at remote Sundance Lake in Hoosier National Forest offered time to reset—birdsong filled the air, teenage fishermen stood silently in the rain, and a Grey Heron made a dramatic appearance at dusk. I caught up on work, wandered the area, found wild berries, and enjoyed the deep calm that comes when the rest of the world feels far away.

Stopped in Story, Indiana for a midday break between Madison and Indianapolis. Explored the grounds of the Story Inn, a restored 19th-century town turned bed and breakfast. The restaurant was closed, but I walked around the property, took in the quiet atmosphere, and chatted briefly with the musician setting up for a wedding before heading back on the road.

Spent the day in Madison, Indiana. Started with coffee and writing at the Red Rooster Café, then drove Hanging Rock Hill—one of the steepest roads in the region—with no trouble. Later, I hiked Trails 6 and 7 at Clifty Falls State Park. Trails were manageable but muddy from recent rain, with some rocky sections adding a bit of challenge.

Just outside Madison, Indiana, I passed the haunting remains of the Jefferson Proving Ground—once a vast Army munitions site, now part wildlife refuge, part time capsule. Around the corner, I stumbled on the Prop Walkers Model Boat Club mid-race, their high-speed boats carving arcs across a rain-soaked pond. By afternoon, I arrived in Madison—a town that defies expectations. With no parking meters, beautifully preserved buildings, and a relaxed, welcoming vibe, it felt more like a hidden gem on the West Coast or New England than a river town in Indiana.

Starting from a quiet suburban street near Dayton, I set out for what I thought would be a 36-mile bike ride from Yellow Springs to Dayton and back. After parking in the artsy, laid-back town of Yellow Springs, I got directions from a friendly local who pointed me through Xenia. The first part of the ride was peaceful and shaded, with a beautiful red bridge, scenic river crossings, and trails lined with dense greenery. Along the way, I stopped to help a fellow rider fix a flat tire—a good reminder to always carry the right tools. The path dipped into a long descent I knew I’d be climbing again later, but the ride was full of unexpected moments that made it worth every mile.

After a peaceful night at John Bryan State Park, I set out to explore two of Dayton’s most iconic museums. The Wright Brothers Museum offered a deep dive into the invention of powered flight, with exhibits on lift, drag, and early propeller design. Later, I spent the afternoon at the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force, wandering through massive hangars filled with historic aircraft, from early warplanes to experimental jets. It was a full day tracing the evolution of aviation—from bicycle shop to supersonic flight.

I spent the morning exploring Clifton Gorge, following shaded trails along the Little Miami River. The limestone cliffs were dramatic, and I stopped at the old Nixon-Hagar paper mill site—just stone remnants now, but once powered by the river to produce coarse paper in the mid-1800s. On the way back, something in the air irritated my lungs and eyes. I coughed, drank water, and eventually felt better. It was hot by the time I reached the van—over 90 degrees—so I made lunch and took a nap. Later, I headed to John Bryan State Park, where I got the last available campsite: a steep, tent-only site that the van managed just fine. After a hot shower and a light dinner, I settled in, closing the vents to keep out heavy campfire smoke. It was a quiet night, and I fell asleep around 11:30.

Columbus was more laid-back than I expected for a state capital. Sure, there was traffic and people in suits, but it didn’t feel rushed or overwhelming. I visited the Statehouse, which doesn’t have the big dome most capitol buildings do, and wandered around the well-kept grounds. A preacher was shouting scripture through loudspeakers while a choir backed him up—not something you see every day. Later, I stopped by the main library and was impressed by the architecture and artwork. It was an easy place to spend a few hours, and all in all, Columbus felt like a mix of big city energy and everyday moments.

A rainy day on the road meant shifting plans, a hearty bowl of 15-bean soup, and the steady rhythm of raindrops on the van roof. From a restless night behind a Cracker Barrel to a rejuvenating workout and a quiet evening in Millersburg, today was about adjusting, warming up, and settling in.

A quiet overnight in Girard gave way to a rainy, vibrant day in Cuyahoga Valley National Park. I waited out the downpour with espresso in the van before hiking a lush 4.1-mile loop from the Stanford Trail to Brandywine Falls. The forest was brilliantly green from days of rain, and the paths led past fields, streams, and a series of sturdy bridges. I met a few fellow hikers along the way—some in need of directions, all happy for the company. Brandywine Falls was the crown jewel, reached just as the rain picked up again, and I ended the day with a well-earned pint of ice cream from the park conservancy.