I pulled out of Tippecanoe River State Park early and made my way toward Indiana Dunes State Park. The terrain stayed flat, but the countryside began to change—farm fields gave way to wetlands, and the presence of water became more pronounced the farther north I drove. Small lakes and ponds appeared between stands of trees and open stretches of grassland. I imagined these quiet pools as glacial remnants, scattered across the landscape like forgotten footprints from a colder, ancient time.

Water From The Nights Heavy Rains

Blazing Trails and Shifting Sands at Indiana Dunes

I arrived at the entrance station around 10:30 a.m.. I checked in and asked for a map and was told no more paper maps. Indiana’s parks seem to be going fully digital, leaning heavily into QR codes. Thankfully, the staff gave me verbal directions to the campground, but when I arrived, someone was still parked in my site. I had to wait until 2 p.m. to pull in.

With a few hours to spare and the temperature already pushing 95°F, I needed to move. I figured I’d try to find a shaded trail (spoiler: few exist). For the next two and a half hours, I navigated a confusing patchwork of trails—some recently built and beautifully maintained, others that quickly disintegrated into soft dunes impossible to ride.

Eventually, I spotted a sign for the National Park Service office and headed there. Inside, a helpful staff member explained the vision for a continuous trail system stretching from Chicago to Michigan City. “The funding was just rescinded,” she said, “but you probably already know that.” The project had been expected to finish in the next two years—what a ride that would’ve been. “Come back in two years,” she added with a smile. I just hope they leave the trees.

Back at the state park, I rode every accessible trail and interior road, logging about 13 miles. When I returned to the van, I did my best to shake out the sand that had infiltrated every corner and repacked my gear.

By now it was a little after 2 p.m.—peak park entry time—and although I’d already checked in, it took 30 minutes to get back into the park. I waited patiently in the air-conditioned van until the gate attendant waved me through. I was finally off to my temporary home.

First order of business: a cold shower. The bathhouse was deserted—everyone was down at the beach—and the cold water felt perfect after a hot ride. Though the campground had trees, the sun was relentless. The inside of the van read 93°F and was still climbing. This was one of those days when I turned on the A/C. With the van cooling, I did a some online work and more of the never-ending “organize the van” routine. It’s like a living puzzle that resets every time I move something.

Dunes Pavilion

To break up the afternoon, I headed to the rooftop restaurant at the Dunes Pavilion. I asked for shade and was given a table under an umbrella with a view of Lake Michigan. But the sun shifted, and I was roasting again within minutes. I moved to the bar—tucked behind a pole—for a little relief.

A guy nearby struck up a conversation. He’d overheard my request to the owner. “It’s brutal,” he said. He owned a company doing work for the BP refinery a few miles away. I told him I’d seen the refinery from the trail.

Meanwhile, my waitress was having trouble with her handheld ordering device. Orders weren’t making it to the kitchen, so there was a bit of a wait. When the food arrived, it looked small, but turned out to be the perfect portion. What stood out most was the number of staff—easily more than the number of guests. Two scantily dressed young women behind the bar were absorbed in their phones, not the drinks. It felt like a soft opening for the summer season—ten weeks to make all the money for the year.

Before leaving, I snapped a few shots with my phone. As I left I spotted a series of photos hanging on the wall. It was like being in a museum of Flight. One name stopped me: Octave Chanute—the "Grandfather of Flight." A photo showed him with the Wright brothers and their banker. I had somehow never heard of him.

Octave Chanute and the Birth of Glider Flight

In 1896, at the very dunes I was now exploring, Octave Chanute conducted a series of groundbreaking glider experiments. An accomplished engineer, Chanute developed stable, multi-wing designs that directly influenced the Wright brothers’ success. Unlike them, Chanute wasn’t interested in commercializing flight—he freely published and shared his work, inviting collaboration. He believed in the open exchange of knowledge and helped usher in a new era of aviation from the sandy ridges of Indiana Dunes.

Walking The Line

As I was leaving the pavilion, I noticed red and blue lights flickering against the wall. A couple stood by the window. “They’re making him walk the line,” the woman said. I looked out to see a man stumbling along the painted lines in the parking lot—clearly intoxicated. I stayed inside until it resolved. Eventually, the officers cuffed him, and I took the elevator down.

On the lower level, a group of women stood near a hallway exhibit. It was a historical timeline spanning from prehistoric life to the park’s current designation. A few entries caught my eye:

1838 – The Potawatomi Trail of Death

In 1838, more than 850 Potawatomi were forcibly removed from northern Indiana. Over two months, they walked 660 miles to Kansas. More than 40 people died, many of them children. The trail passed through this region—a sobering reminder of the land’s violent transformation.

1927 – The World’s Largest Ski Jump at Ogden Dunes

It’s hard to imagine today, but Ogden Dunes once had the world’s largest ski jump. Built by Chicago winter sports enthusiasts, it drew international competitors and massive crowds. Skiers launched from towering scaffolds and landed on the sand. The jump was dismantled during World War II, but its legacy lingers.

1930 – Pavilion at the Dunes Opens

The Dunes Pavilion opened its doors in 1930 as a beachside destination for dancing, dining, and summer escapes. The Art Deco design made it an architectural icon of leisure—equal parts community center and celebration hall.

1976–2019 – From State Preserve to National Park

The dunes were designated a state park nature preserve in 1976, protecting fragile ecosystems from development. In 2019, the area gained National Park status, expanding its boundaries and national recognition. Today, Indiana Dunes National Park protects more than 15,000 acres of rare habitats and biodiversity.

After soaking in the history, I picked up my camera and headed to the beach for sunset. The orange sky reflected off the lake, silhouetting the skyline of Chicago across the water.

Back in the van, I spent a couple of hours experimenting in Lightroom, trying to bring out the best in the sunset shots. So much to learn—but every evening like this makes it worth the effort.

Let me know if you'd like this in PDF or blog-ready HTML format, or want a punchier title and summary for your post list.