Day 4 (Tuesday, 9/13) - New plan to get to Indiana
When I woke up in Radcliff, I knew that I would not be able to tackle the next three days of 23, 15 and 24 miles. On top of that, the two intermediate towns in Kentucky, between Radcliff and Cannelton, Indiana - Irvington and Hardinsburg - had proven impossible to find lodging. A call to the only hotel in one of the towns had not been returned and there was no facility in the other. Finally, the routing I had to choose to stay within the 20 miles or so per day rule, had meant I could not visit Cloverport, Kentucky, the town where the Lincoln family started to cross the Ohio river.
I was a little reluctant to give up walking the whole trip both because of the physical challenge itself and the fact that supporters had pledged "pennies on the path" for the Abraham Lincoln Institute for each mile I walked. But these concerns weren't controlling and, when reality set in, I quickly came up with a substitute plan for the next few days. Rather than walking to Cannelton via Irvington and Hardinsburg, I would find a way to ride the 50 miles to Cloverport. I would then walk the 11 miles to Cannelton and then, most likely, take the next day off for rest and recuperation!
Located right next to my hotel in Radcliff was Freddy's Taxicab Service. So I walked over, met Freddy, and negotiated a rate for his driving me to Cloverport. Freddy is African-American, 71 years old, originally from Ohio and now retired in the Fort Knox area for longer than the 20 years he served in the Army. As we traveled down U.S. Route 60, and zipped by the towns of Irvington and Hardinsburg on the path that would have taken me two days to traverse, Freddy and I swapped Army stories and he probably learned more about Lincoln than he cared to know. It was only his second time in this particular area; generally, he said, he preferred to take the Interstate.
Freddy dropped me off right in front of the town hall in Cloverport. There was a big sign out front that said "Tourist Information." I went in and said I wanted to see the Lincoln sites. The young lady greeting me thought there might be some historic plaques, but wasn't sure of their location. A check with her boss garnered no additional information, so I just struck out on my own. I found a walkway along Clover Creek as it emptied into the Ohio River. As the walkway continued along the Ohio, there were a series of simple signs that spelled out the history of the town. Originally established by Joseph Houston, in an effort, I guess, to save the obvious name for use in Texas, the town was called Joeville and it became a center for coal mining and transportation. Later, Cloverport was established nearby and the two towns consolidated.
One sign had a wonderful sentence that would infuriate any grammar teacher but nonetheless let you know what it meant. It read, "A clean burning coal that would eventually light the bulbs at Buckingham Palace, Queen Victoria became a stockholder in the cannel coal company."
Another one of these simple signs did, in fact, recount the arrival of the Lincoln family. It was here that I came to realize part of the true value of this trek I was on. Any biography of Lincoln will report that in 1816, young Abraham along with his family moved from Kentucky to Indiana. But stand at the water's edge and look across the nearly half mile to the Indiana side. Imagine the thoughts of a seven-year old boy as he gets on a log raft along with his family and their ox-cart loaded with family possessions. They start across the river and will not land on the other side until they have travelled nearly 6 miles downstream. Being there and seeing the actual place adds a whole new dimension to my understanding of Lincoln's life.
I stopped for lunch at the Rivertown Deli and Ice Cream and then strapped on the backpack and headed to Cannelton. Within a hundred yards of town hall, right on the main street, I came across a beautiful historic marker placed by the Kentucky Department of Highways that succinctly spelled out the "Lincoln Family Trail" history. Of course, I took a picture. Now I have to decide if I should send it to the people in town hall.
Before I left town, and while I knew the cell phone signal would be strong, I had to take care of some business. I had sold some stock (or more precisely, I had intended to sell some stock) to help cover the expenses of my trek. An online check of my bank account that morning revealed that the deposit had not been made. A couple of calls revealed that the stock had been received but deposited in an account simply as stock and not sold for cash. So there I was standing on the street in this 19th century rivertown, talking on my cell phone and instructing someone, on a recorded line, to sell my stock.
The walk started out pleasant. The Route 60 business bypass through Cloverport included some shady scenic passages, but once I got out of the town and back on the main highway it was a different matter. U.S. 60 is a four lane highway with a grassy median, wide shoulders and very little shade. Moeover it is through quite hilly terrain. I had the best of intentions to walk the full 11 miles to Cannelton. At one point as I looked ahead and saw nothing but incline for what appeared to be 1.5 to 2 miles of incline, I set the summit as my target. I figured when I arrived there, I would see a downhill slope and perhaps even Hawesville, the town on the Kentucky side of the bridge to Cannelton. I made it to the top, but didn't even look any further. My feet were hurting and my thumb volunteered to take care of the rest of the trip. I stuck it out, and three passing cars later, I was on my way at 60 mph to Hawesville. Three miles of the eleven planned for the day would generate no funds for the Abraham Lincoln Institute!
My mobile hosts were actually headed right through Cannelton and offered to drop me there, but I decided that I wanted to walk across the Ohio River bridge. That proved to be a good choice (my feet might not agree!) because I stopped in the Hancock County public library before heading across the river. This is a small facility but one which clearly meets the needs of its community. A good collection of books and videos, an evidently well-used bound copy of the local newspaper, and a small number of internet terminals were on the main floor; but they could have had a larger number of Lincoln titles, in my opinion. The children's section on the lower level contained an astounding collection of original murals, painted by a local artist, depicting scenes from children's literature and local history. I would have hated not to have seen them.
The walk across the bridge into Indiana afforded a sweeping scene of the river. The Lincoln family's ferry would have passed right under my path.
I arrived in Cannelton about 4 pm and for a change the place I was staying was right near the town line. A bed and breakfast, decorated in a way that would have pleased the royal investor in the cannel coal company, awaited me and the end of day soak and shower reinvigorated me. I asked the proprietor if there was a washing machine available for guests and she said no. She then handed me a plastic bag, said to put my dirty stuff in there, and she'd take care of it. She did and I am grateful. I think I'll stay here another day.
My hostess also directed me to a nearby restaurant where the food was plain but satisfying. As I walked back from the restaurant, I came upon a strong anti-war statement on the signboard outside an auto exhaust service station urging that attention be devoted to Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama and not Iraq and Afghanistan. That wasn't the message I expected to read in this most southern part of this very red state.
I was a little reluctant to give up walking the whole trip both because of the physical challenge itself and the fact that supporters had pledged "pennies on the path" for the Abraham Lincoln Institute for each mile I walked. But these concerns weren't controlling and, when reality set in, I quickly came up with a substitute plan for the next few days. Rather than walking to Cannelton via Irvington and Hardinsburg, I would find a way to ride the 50 miles to Cloverport. I would then walk the 11 miles to Cannelton and then, most likely, take the next day off for rest and recuperation!
Located right next to my hotel in Radcliff was Freddy's Taxicab Service. So I walked over, met Freddy, and negotiated a rate for his driving me to Cloverport. Freddy is African-American, 71 years old, originally from Ohio and now retired in the Fort Knox area for longer than the 20 years he served in the Army. As we traveled down U.S. Route 60, and zipped by the towns of Irvington and Hardinsburg on the path that would have taken me two days to traverse, Freddy and I swapped Army stories and he probably learned more about Lincoln than he cared to know. It was only his second time in this particular area; generally, he said, he preferred to take the Interstate.
Freddy dropped me off right in front of the town hall in Cloverport. There was a big sign out front that said "Tourist Information." I went in and said I wanted to see the Lincoln sites. The young lady greeting me thought there might be some historic plaques, but wasn't sure of their location. A check with her boss garnered no additional information, so I just struck out on my own. I found a walkway along Clover Creek as it emptied into the Ohio River. As the walkway continued along the Ohio, there were a series of simple signs that spelled out the history of the town. Originally established by Joseph Houston, in an effort, I guess, to save the obvious name for use in Texas, the town was called Joeville and it became a center for coal mining and transportation. Later, Cloverport was established nearby and the two towns consolidated.
One sign had a wonderful sentence that would infuriate any grammar teacher but nonetheless let you know what it meant. It read, "A clean burning coal that would eventually light the bulbs at Buckingham Palace, Queen Victoria became a stockholder in the cannel coal company."
Another one of these simple signs did, in fact, recount the arrival of the Lincoln family. It was here that I came to realize part of the true value of this trek I was on. Any biography of Lincoln will report that in 1816, young Abraham along with his family moved from Kentucky to Indiana. But stand at the water's edge and look across the nearly half mile to the Indiana side. Imagine the thoughts of a seven-year old boy as he gets on a log raft along with his family and their ox-cart loaded with family possessions. They start across the river and will not land on the other side until they have travelled nearly 6 miles downstream. Being there and seeing the actual place adds a whole new dimension to my understanding of Lincoln's life.
I stopped for lunch at the Rivertown Deli and Ice Cream and then strapped on the backpack and headed to Cannelton. Within a hundred yards of town hall, right on the main street, I came across a beautiful historic marker placed by the Kentucky Department of Highways that succinctly spelled out the "Lincoln Family Trail" history. Of course, I took a picture. Now I have to decide if I should send it to the people in town hall.
Before I left town, and while I knew the cell phone signal would be strong, I had to take care of some business. I had sold some stock (or more precisely, I had intended to sell some stock) to help cover the expenses of my trek. An online check of my bank account that morning revealed that the deposit had not been made. A couple of calls revealed that the stock had been received but deposited in an account simply as stock and not sold for cash. So there I was standing on the street in this 19th century rivertown, talking on my cell phone and instructing someone, on a recorded line, to sell my stock.
The walk started out pleasant. The Route 60 business bypass through Cloverport included some shady scenic passages, but once I got out of the town and back on the main highway it was a different matter. U.S. 60 is a four lane highway with a grassy median, wide shoulders and very little shade. Moeover it is through quite hilly terrain. I had the best of intentions to walk the full 11 miles to Cannelton. At one point as I looked ahead and saw nothing but incline for what appeared to be 1.5 to 2 miles of incline, I set the summit as my target. I figured when I arrived there, I would see a downhill slope and perhaps even Hawesville, the town on the Kentucky side of the bridge to Cannelton. I made it to the top, but didn't even look any further. My feet were hurting and my thumb volunteered to take care of the rest of the trip. I stuck it out, and three passing cars later, I was on my way at 60 mph to Hawesville. Three miles of the eleven planned for the day would generate no funds for the Abraham Lincoln Institute!
My mobile hosts were actually headed right through Cannelton and offered to drop me there, but I decided that I wanted to walk across the Ohio River bridge. That proved to be a good choice (my feet might not agree!) because I stopped in the Hancock County public library before heading across the river. This is a small facility but one which clearly meets the needs of its community. A good collection of books and videos, an evidently well-used bound copy of the local newspaper, and a small number of internet terminals were on the main floor; but they could have had a larger number of Lincoln titles, in my opinion. The children's section on the lower level contained an astounding collection of original murals, painted by a local artist, depicting scenes from children's literature and local history. I would have hated not to have seen them.
The walk across the bridge into Indiana afforded a sweeping scene of the river. The Lincoln family's ferry would have passed right under my path.
I arrived in Cannelton about 4 pm and for a change the place I was staying was right near the town line. A bed and breakfast, decorated in a way that would have pleased the royal investor in the cannel coal company, awaited me and the end of day soak and shower reinvigorated me. I asked the proprietor if there was a washing machine available for guests and she said no. She then handed me a plastic bag, said to put my dirty stuff in there, and she'd take care of it. She did and I am grateful. I think I'll stay here another day.
My hostess also directed me to a nearby restaurant where the food was plain but satisfying. As I walked back from the restaurant, I came upon a strong anti-war statement on the signboard outside an auto exhaust service station urging that attention be devoted to Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama and not Iraq and Afghanistan. That wasn't the message I expected to read in this most southern part of this very red state.
posted by Bob Willard @ 2:30 PM
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