55th Class Reunion on a Two-Wheeled SUV:
A Two-Wheeled What?
Laying On the Utility
Thinking Small for a Big Trip
Day 1: Tucson to Las Cruces
Day 2: The Road to Santa Rosa
Day 3: Kittycorner to Kansas
Days 4 and 5: Wet Wichita, Sunny St. Joseph
Day 6: This Way to Humboldt
Enjoying Humboldt (Iowa)
Gas Tank Blackjack
The Real Kansas in Technicolor
A Liberal Dose of Memories
Holbrook? How Did We Wind Up In Holbrook?
Painted, Petrified, and Perfect
The Home Home Stretch
It would be a shame to write a typical story of a motorcycle tour, highlighting all the hamlets and attractions, and say nothing of Humboldt itself. To my way of thinking, the most notable part of it is the rather recently constructed system of hiking and bicycling trails.
The west branch of the Des Moines River cuts through town from northwest to southeast. When I lived there, the river was the west edge of town. My favorite place to get away from it all with a book and our family dog was the Indian Trail, a footpath along the west side of the river. (They called it that because a band of Indians had used it in a retreat during the Indian wars.) Over the years, as I came back to town for reunions, I always revisited the Indian Trail, but it gradually disappeared. More and more of it was roped off with "No Trespassing" signs. For all I know, it may always have been private property, but if so, the owners were less possessive in my time.
Cut to 1999. To my pleasant surprise, two railroad rights-of-way had been converted to hiking and bicycling trails. One of them runs for a few miles north and south. The other, running to the east or the northwest, can be taken miles and miles to other towns. Where there were railroad trestles, they've been given planked floorings. You might not believe it until you see it on foot, but Iowa countryside (when roped off a little from planted fields) is quite scenic, with a luxurious variety of plant and animal life.
The sign at the entrance of the northbound trail may interest motorcyclists as a quaint mixture of restrictions. Apparently the idea is that snowmobilers and hikers won't want the trail at the same time anyhow. Being a hiker as well as a motorcyclist, I can appreciate the idea of separate trails for hikers, bikers (with engines), and horses (with exhaust).
Back to the present: this year they had added a footpath along the east bank of the river. It's a bit tamer than the Indian Trail used to be, but pleasant in a tranquil way. There are benches for the contemplative. At its north end, the trail has a grand view of the dam. The water was high this year, as if posing for a picture.
Notice the structure in the middle: it's an island, reinforced after it washed out one year, with unpleasant consequences for a trailer park downstream.
One restaurant which might catch the fancy of motorcyclists, both for its name and for its ambience, is "The Back Seat Diner". Antique and custom car hobbyists gather there. On a weekend night, when several of their creations were parked in front, one that caught my eye was a stretch convertible. I don't know what make it was. In any case, I liked this restaurant for oddball reasons of my own: it's one of the few places I know where I can order a grilled cheese sandwich as the entrée for dinner.
