Madison & Clify Trail

I woke up on West Street in the center of Madison, Indiana. I moved the van forward about a block so I’d be closer to the corner of Main Street. I had noticed the Red Rooster Café there the day before. The same group was already sitting out front. One of them greeted me with, “Good morning, good day for a coffee.”

Inside, the air conditioning was the first thing I noticed—cool and quiet. There was no strong coffee aroma. I ordered a large cappuccino and asked if they had porcelain cups. They didn’t. The café sits on a corner, with large windows along the front and individual workspaces at each one. I took one of the two stools at a window seat. I would spend the next two hours sitting, writing about my day exploring and finding any excuse to hang out and watch people. On either side of the window were two local papers: The Crossroads, which listed real estate, and The Outlook, a guide to what was happening in town.

Father’s Day

As I sat at the Red Rooster Café, sipping coffee and writing about the day’s hike, my phone buzzed with a message from my older son. It was a simple “Happy Father’s Day,” but it made me pause and smile. Sitting there surrounded by the gentle hum of conversation, the clink of mugs, and the scent of roasted coffee, that little note felt especially meaningful. Life on the road has a rhythm of solitude, and moments like this—unexpected and heartfelt—quietly remind me how connected I still am to the people who matter most.

Red Rooster Cáfe

In front of me, at a table outside the café, sat a very thin man with a patch over his right eye. His cap suggested he was a Vietnam vet, and a long, unlit cigar rested between his lips. He stared at his phone, quickly swiping left and right, occasionally up, until he tapped out a message. Once finished, he leaned back, lit the cigar, and took a slow first draw. People stopped by now and then to chat. About twenty minutes later, a friend arrived with a coffee and a dog. They sat and talked for the better part of an hour while passersby greeted them and paused to pet the dog.

A tall man in shorts and a T-shirt strolled past, his arms and legs completely covered in tattoos. He held the hand of his young daughter, with another man—maybe a friend or brother—walking just behind. He had a relaxed way about him, comfortable and open. He stopped to pet the dog, who took it all in calmly, like a dog that had done this many times. The little girl clung to her father’s leg, unsure at first. He knelt beside her, wrapped an arm around her, and she slowly reached out to touch the dog’s fur. Her smile lit up when she did. Then they headed inside for coffee.

The space outside the café felt like a natural gathering spot—people from all walks of life drifting through. Locals, visitors, families, friends, and solo wanderers shared the same corner without much fuss. Dogs helped spark small talk and made things feel a little more human. No one seemed in a hurry. People paused, connected, and went on with their day.

Later, I returned to the van to clean up and get ready for a hike. I had the door open and a breeze blowing through as I sorted photos at my desk. A man in his late 30s stopped to chat. “Nice unit you’ve got here,” he said, then asked if I was moving in. He looked fit, like a runner, but I got the impression he might be between homes. He said he used to have a van, but it kept breaking down. “You look busy, I won’t bother you,” he added. I told him I was just finishing up my blog. A few minutes later, he came back and asked if he could read it. I gave him the address, and he headed off down the street.

Hanging Rock Hill

I read about a famously steep stretch of road just west of Madison, Indiana, known as Hanging Rock Hill. It’s located on State Road 62 as it climbs out of the Ohio River valley. Some sources list the grade anywhere between 12% and 25%, and a few even claim it’s among the steepest roads in the country. From what I had read, I worried the van might have trouble making it up or down. In fact, I’ve been on steeper roads elsewhere and the van had absolutely no issues.

There are a few dramatic videos online showing water pouring down the hill during heavy rains—in those conditions, there’s no way I would drive the road in any vehicle. But on a dry day, it’s a scenic drive and worth the effort. Madison is also known for the Madison Hill Climb, a long-running annual event where vintage motorcycles race uphill along a course that winds from Vaughn Drive up through Cragmont Street, Park Avenue, and West Street.

The Madison Rail, apparently, is the steepest railroad grade in North America. I didn’t hike this, but it looks like a fun trail.

Clifty Falls State Park

I drove to Clifty Falls State Park, paid the $9 out-of-state entrance fee, and found a shaded spot to park the van. I downloaded the Trail 6 and 7 map on AllTrails and followed the signage for Trail 7. Neither trail was especially difficult, but the rocks, roots, and leftover mud from the previous night’s rain added just enough challenge to keep it interesting.

One thing I noticed right away was how friendly everyone on the trail seemed. Unlike some places where people avoid eye contact, nearly everyone here offered a greeting or a smile as they passed.

Make it stand out

On my way back from Trail 6, I saw a woman standing by a tree, taking a photo and then gently hugging the trunk. I said, “Interesting shot,” and told her about a comic strip a friend had recently sent me. It reminded me of *The Overstory* by Richard Powers. She smiled and said, “Trees communicate using fungus,” which brought to mind another book I enjoyed, *The Hidden Life of Trees* by Peter Wohlleben.

Her name was Penny. She’s based in Indianapolis and runs a successful business but takes weekends to unwind and hike. We talked about mushrooms, Ohio’s natural beauty, favorite hikes, and places worth visiting around Indianapolis. She mentioned wanting to buy a camera and take a photography course—right now, she shares her pictures on Facebook. We took a quick photo together, exchanged Facebook info, and I gave her my blog address before we went our separate ways. Later, I saw her again in the parking lot. She was on her way to surprise her dad for Father’s Day. I imagined it would make his day.

Toward the end of the hike, I met a couple from Virginia trying to get a photo of the falls, though the view was mostly blocked by thick foliage. The woman stood a few feet back from the edge, clearly uneasy. She explained that she had a fear of heights and couldn’t bring herself closer to the wall for the shot. Neither of them were into hiking for exercise, but they loved to travel. They said they preferred spots where they could drive in, walk a short distance, and still capture something beautiful. He pulled out his phone and showed me dozens of pictures from their past trips. He was getting ready to retire from construction, and she was a special education teacher. They planned to travel more slowly in retirement, taking it one stop at a time.

Back at the parking lot, a woman collapsed onto a bench, clearly overheated and worn out. “I’m about to sit and relax too,” I said. She looked up, smiled, and commented on how humid it was. I agreed—the trail itself hadn’t offered much breeze under all the tree cover. She opened up a little, sharing that she’d been through some tough times but was in a better place now. She was a truck driver and traveled with her boyfriend, who soon joined the conversation. I asked them what they thought about the future of self-driving trucks. Both believed their jobs were safe for the foreseeable future, despite what I’ve seen in documentaries and reports. They shared stories about long hours, tight deadlines, and learning to stand their ground when safety was at risk. It was an honest conversation, and I appreciated their perspective.

Along The Ohio River

I returned to Madison to take in more of the city and absorb more of this microcosm of the mid-west. The Ohio River flows through Madison, and you’ll find a mix of historic charm, public green space, and riverfront activity. Vaughn Drive runs parallel to the river and offers access to a paved walking and biking path with benches and open views of the water. There was plenty of parking.

The Lanier Mansion Park sits just west of town, with trails and overlooks above the river valley. The Lanier Mansion State Historic Site, a preserved 19th-century home, stands near the river and marks Madison’s role in early commerce and industry. The river itself remains active with barge traffic, and the waterfront is a popular spot for fishing, walking, and local festivals.