INDIANA AND OHIO HIGH--Trip 2

Cowles Bog Trail sounded like an impossibility when we listened to the weather forecast last night. "Clouds moving in with rain by early afternoon or before" precluded any chance of walking 4.1 miles through bog and across sand dunes. But by the time we checked out of the motel at 8:00 a.m., the sun had burned off any morning dew and a brisk breeze cleared the skies.
"They are saying 70 degrees by early afternoon, but it's in the low 40's now," said Andy, as we loaded the car and headed 12 miles back to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore.
Cowles Bog Trail, named after Dr. Henry Cowles, who conducted initial studies of plant ecology here, circled the bog for 4.1 miles, according to the trail map, but designated parking .2 mile away added another .4 mile to the loop.
We set out along the oak savannah path with wetlands to one side. The trail, leaf covered, skirted green pools with downed trees and marsh grasses. "We have to come back this way," said Andy, when we reached the first junction, a mile in from the parking lot.

The consistent rumbling increased. "That can't be trains," I told him, "because the rumbling doesn't stop. But locomotives sound all those toots and whistles, and the crunching crashes have to be diesel engines picking up rail cars."

Andy agreed. "But the steel companies create that rumbling," he said. "It's the roar of the furnaces. I guess when people live here, they don't even notice it any more, because it is ceaseless."
The trail edged gently uphill another half mile toward the lake; then it climbed the dunes. Up, up, up we trudged, using the tree roots as steps in the sandy soil. Then down, down, down the other side. "But oh what a dirty trick this is!" Andy said. Another dune, higher than the first, separated us from Bailly Beach and Lake Michigan. Up, up, up, again. This time the down proved more daunting with larger roots entangled a foot out of the ground. But at the base stretched a bunch grass plain, the sand beach and beyond it the endless water of Lake Michigan, touching a blue horizon.
Two tenths mile down the beach, we scanned for a trail back. Easy to spot, it climbed an un-vegetated portion of dune, straight up. "You'll burn off your breakfast muffin now," said Andy.
"No kidding!" I gasped. Focusing on my feet, I trudged up the loose sand.

"Try to follow my footsteps," Andy called back. He breathed deeply too.

Right, left, right, I stepped, but with each foot forward, I slid down nine inches, as the loose, dry crystals gave under the weight of my heels. "I'm using your footsteps," I puffed back, "but your stride is longer than mine."

I caught my breath at the top, pausing to take in the view of Lake Michigan, waveless and calm, the power plant puffing clouds of pure white steam, the steel mill glistening in the morning sun, the oaks and maples, still shedding leaves of brown and yellow and red. Andy said he wasn't out of breath at all, but he waited for me anyway.
"It's all downhill now," said Andy, and he was pretty much correct. A few rises, a couple boardwalks and leaf-covered paths through wooded acres took us back around Cowles Bog. I shed my jacket, and we sat on the boardwalk, emptying the sand from our sneakers. It had been a pleasant way to spend a morning.
There were more trucks than cars on Interstate 80/90. That probably makes sense since it stretches from New York to San Francisco. UPS and Fed-Ex piggy-backs passed us both directions, all the three-trailer-pull variety. Truckloads of automobiles hauled both directions, as well, carrying bright blue Mazdas, black Ford trucks, silver Chryslers, and red Toyotas. I read names like Western Express, Patriot Transport Inc., USXL Worldwide, Covenant Transport, Pegasus Transport Inc. and M.S. Carriers. From the looks of the Interstate, it was hard to believe there was any slow down in production or any recession in the economy. The monster trucks just zipped along at 65 m.p.h., dominating the highway and outnumbering the passenger cars.
The Fallen Timbers Monument on the Maumee River paid tribute to the Indians and colonial militia who battled here over territory in the early 1790's.

"The Indians got screwed again," said Andy, as we walked around the bronze statue.

He was right. After failed military campaigns in 1790 and 1791 to crush the Indians who resented the white man's encroachment and settlement in the Ohio Territory, President George Washington turned to Anthony Wayne. Wayne assembled troops in Cincinnati, disciplined them for months as an army, and marched on 2,000 Indians in 1794. He found them here in what is now Maumee at a grove of trees downed by a tornado. Defeated not far away at the gates of Fort Miamis, the Indians signed the Treaty of Greene Ville, surrendering most of Ohio to the United States. Peaceful settlement of the frontier followed for 15 years. We walked around the statue, enjoying the unseasonable warm and knowing that the forecasted rain would soon be overhead.
The army broke ground to build Fort Meigs in February of 1813. Operated by the Ohio Historical Society, the earthen breastworks and log stockade with corner two-story parapets defended the Maumee River against the British and their Indian allies. The fort stood at the center of American military operations in the Northwest Territory and was intended to serve as a temporary supply depot and staging area for an invasion of Canada. Named for the Governor of Ohio, the garrison housed 2,000 U.S. regulars and militia from Ohio, Kentucky, Pennsylvania and Virginia.
The British laid siege on May 1, 1813, but after a four-day bombardment when Kentucky militia reinforced the fort, the British gave up, lifted the siege and returned to Canada. The Indians who had accompanied them were bitterly disappointed by the British failure to take the fort. They had hoped a British victory would drive out the American settlers and discourage any more newcomers.
In July the British besieged Fort Meigs again to appease their Indian allies, but American forces saw through the initial mock battle to lure them out of the garrison. The second siege failed, as well.
By December 1814, with the signing of the Treaty of Ghent, the war ended. Abandoned, Fort Meigs burned to the ground. The Ohio Historical Society restored it in 1974. Even though the museum was closed, the grounds remained open for visitors. We walked around the inside and outside of the Fort, admired the sunset and marveled at the history resurrected and preserved.