Knight
We park the car near the eastern terminus of the Pumpkinvine Trail, which is just past the four-way stop in the center of Shipshewana. We lift our bikes from the rack, check our water supply and strap on our helmets. Then Becky and I start pedaling west. Shipshewana is a small town, and within minutes the two of us are rolling through the bucolic countryside.
The Pumpkinvine Nature Trail runs 17 miles from Shipshewana through Middlebury to Goshen. It was developed as a railroad line at the turn of the 20th century to serve passengers and carry mail between these towns. Due to the route’s curves and turns it acquired the nickname “pumpkin vine.” The rail service ceased operations in 1980, and in 1993 the Friends of the Pumpkinvine Nature Trail acquired the corridor. It offers another quiet and peaceful opportunity to experience this already quiet and peaceful part of our state.
This bright day, cool for August, is ideal for a leisurely ride. We glide under long, shady canopies of trees and then emerge into sunny, wide-open rural spaces. I am aware of my bike and its quiet path, I am aware of Becky up ahead, and at the same time, I am constantly scanning this world we find ourselves in.
Over there a woman in a long dress is hanging the wash—quiet blue dresses, solid blue shirts, dark long pants with buttons—on a rotary umbrella clothesline. Her work is set against a beautifully weathered red barn that presides over a collection of smaller farm buildings. The flower garden in her side yard fits like an appropriate piece of the natural world.
Periodically we come to where the trail meets a country road. In the distance, a horse-drawn buggy is approaching, but we calculate we have sufficient time to cross. Farther along the trail we come upon one of several quilt gardens in the area. Quilt gardens are a combination of quilting, gardening and art. Along with large painted murals of quilts, these installations comprise a unique visual experience for this section of northern Indiana.
We ride by solid horses in neat fields. Horses are part of the culture here due to the Amish and Mennonite presence. Horse-drawn buggies share the road with motor vehicles on the paved highways. The buggies move at a steady pace, clop-clop-clopping against the rush of cars and semitrailers. In town, the horses seem to know what is expected of them as they stand still in the harness waiting for instructions.
We pass farmers driving four-horse teams pulling mowers through crops of grasses. Becky and I are reminded of what we aren’t hearing: large diesel farm machinery chugging the fields. Quiet work.
About mile 11 on the trail we come to a sign explaining that due to trail repairs, we must take a detour onto a busy road. I guess you can’t avoid orange roadwork signs in summer in Indiana — even on a bike trail. Up to now, the ride had been so peaceful, and after a semi whooshes noisily by, we decide 22 miles roundtrip would be a respectable ride. We turn around and head back.
For me, the operative word for our recent getaway trip is “quiet.” And at the risk of over-thinking it, I might add “appropriate” to the list. The writer Wendell Berry, my muse in such matters, says, “The Amish are the only people I know who actually practice the radical neighborliness of the Gospels.” He maintains their use of horses limits their lives and livelihoods to a neighborly scale. They refuse to use technology when it would be destructive to their community. Well, if nothing else, technology sure can be noisy.
It was nice to get away even for a little while from the hustle-bustle of the day-to-day. I guess the challenge for us is to how to keep that quiet going.
Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
