Madison To Story Indiana
Monday Morning in Madison
I stayed again in Madison, Indiana. The van was parked on Mulberry Street in front of the Frontier Communications building. It looked like a communications hub for the company. It was much quieter on this street than on West Street, which is a main feeder for traffic coming into town.
I tried to get to the coffee shop before 8 a.m., anticipating that Monday morning crowds would be clamoring for their cup of java to help jump-start the week. Pleasantly surprised, there were no lines. I ordered a cappuccino and a banana walnut muffin. I pulled up to my same position as yesterday and opened my MacBook Pro to catch up on my blog.
The city municipal building is located across the street. A policeman, with his badge around his neck and wearing a short-sleeve white shirt and khaki shorts, came across the street. Several people greeted him with handshakes and smiles. He came in for his usual, and a woman started talking to him about some city business. The barista was already working on his tall coffee. After the conversation, he grabbed the coffee, swiped, said good morning to the owner, and headed back to work.
Outside, at a table just in front of me, a guy sat fidgeting for almost the entire time I was there. His attention span was all over the place. Someone brought him a coffee, chatted for a couple of minutes, and moved on. He looked to be in his early 30s. I got the sense he’d been through some serious stuff—maybe drugs—and was slowly climbing his way back.
At one point, a beautiful blonde came in, grabbed a coffee, paused to say hello to him, and then ended up sitting down for a longer conversation with him. A little while later, a young guy in a small pickup rolled in, waved to the same guy on his way inside. He seemed to know just about everyone and wished the whole place a great week. On his way out, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, handed one to the guy at the table, and kept going.
A few more women stopped by to chat. Then a man with two dogs sat down and caught up with him like they were old friends. I’m still not sure what to make of it all, but it felt like this little community was quietly doing what it could to support one of their own. No big speeches. No religion or politics. Just kindness in action. It was actually pretty moving.
I had spent at least an hour writing, absorbing the pleasant hum of this small town going about its business. It was time for me to get my day going. I stopped at Kroger for groceries. I had several issues with the self-checkout. It was a different system than what I had used at other grocery stores. A woman asked if I had a Kroger card, and I said I didn’t. She said, “Here you can use mine, it’ll save you a bunch of money.” It actually dropped the price by over $6. Figuring I’ll probably need to shop at Kroger again, I asked her for a card.
I then went to Planet Fitness for a workout, shower, and Hydro Massage. It was now almost 1 p.m., and I was on my way to Story, Indiana.
A Stop in Story, Indiana
I was looking for a place to stop between Madison and Indianapolis, and Story, Indiana caught my eye. I took back roads the entire way and stopped to capture some scenery. The roads all seem to run North-South or East-West out here (few diagnols). The roads will suddenly make sharp left or right turns as if avoiding a farmers pasture, a grove of trees, or some obstacle.
Story is technically considered a ghost town, but it didn’t quite feel like one. Founded in 1851, the town faded after the Great Depression and became nearly inaccessible after the creation of Lake Monroe and Brown County State Park.
The Story Inn
Today, it’s been revived by the Story Inn—a bed and breakfast with a restaurant, wine tastings, candlelight dinners, live music, and a few ghost stories, including one about a mysterious Blue Lady. No one lives there full-time, but it’s a popular spot for weddings and weekend getaways.
The restaurant was closed on Mondays, but there was activity around the property. Guests were settling in for a relaxing week, and preparations were underway for a wedding. One woman from the wedding party was clearly in charge, directing others around. I kept to myself, but the manager encouraged me to explore the grounds, offering a running commentary that leaned more promotional than informative.
The place had a calm, inviting atmosphere, with events scheduled almost every night during the summer. On my way back to the van, I met Frank, the musician for the wedding. He and his girlfriend were unloading gear, and we ended up talking for ten minutes about music and the industry. He’d been laid off from an IT job writing transactional software and now makes a living playing keys and guitar, supplemented with some online design work. Most of his gigs are around Indiana, mainly through contacts in Indianapolis. He gave me a few suggestions for food and live music in the city. We wished each other well, and I got back on the road.
The Long Way to Sundance Lake
I saw a post online about a place called “Sundance Lake” in Hoosier National Forest. It sounded like a peaceful spot to camp, so I dropped the coordinates into Google Maps and hit the road. The route led me through some of the more remote stretches of the forest—narrow, winding paths, with long sections of dirt and partially paved roads. The forest was thick and lush, and it felt like I was deep in the middle of nowhere.
After about 30 minutes, I arrived at what turned out to be two small, man-made lakes on private property. Definitely not Sundance Lake. Frustrated, I tried a different search—typing “Sundance Lake, Hoosier National Forest” directly into Google Maps. The result? A reroute that took me right back through the same network of backroads. Somewhere along the way I pulled over to check my route, and a huge dog charged up to the van door. He wasn’t exactly friendly, and he kept pace with the van for several hundred feet before finally giving up.
Fortunately, the second attempt was a success. I ended up on a dirt road that dead-ended in a small clearing. About 150 feet away, tucked just behind the trees, was the real Sundance Lake. The area had six level, paved spots for vehicles—surprisingly nice for a free spot so far off the beaten path. It was quiet, shaded, and felt like a place meant for those who don’t mind doing a little extra work to get somewhere special.
Camping at Sundance Lake – What to Know
Sundance Lake is part of Hoosier National Forest’s dispersed camping system. It’s free to stay, and you’re allowed up to 14 consecutive days in the same spot within a 30-day period. There are no amenities—no water, no toilets, no trash cans—so you’ll need to come prepared and follow Leave No Trace guidelines. Fires are generally permitted in designated areas (I saw the remains of a few), but it’s a good idea to check current fire restrictions before lighting one. Cell signal is weak or nonexistent (even with a booster), which adds to the sense of solitude. This isn’t a place for RV hookups or creature comforts—it’s for those who enjoy the quiet, the trees, and a night sky untouched by city lights.
I’ve not heard a loud truck exhaust, an airplane, air brakes, or the general hum of a city. It is super quiet here. There was a small Toyota car parked here when I arrived, but they left before dark.