The bikes were loaded, and the suitcases in the trunk. We checked the house one more time, grabbed up our water bottles, purse and maps, pulled closed the door and locked it.
As we drove out the drive way, I locked away all my everyday cares and all my concerns. The newspaper would pile up, the tractors are parked. In the mailbox is a note, "Hold the mail for a week." Life on the farm was on hold. We were heading north to the beautiful land of trees, rocks, lakes, biking and hiking trails, nature,....and yes....Amish.
We stood on a high cliff. Beautiful oak trees rose up tall all around us. It was evening, the sun low in the sky. All is quiet as we stand hand in hand, starring out at the breathtaking view below. Way down beneath us and as far as our eyes could see, laid a beautiful valley between tree covered hills. In that valley two rivers flow together. The great Mississippi and the Wisconsin. Way below us you could see their ribbon of blue coming together and flowing on to the south and out of sight. I couldn't help but let my imagination flow like those rivers below. I imagined what it would of been like years ago as the native Indians camped along these beautiful rivers, and ran fast and quiet over those hills, so free and happy. I heard, in my mind, their soft songs of love to one another there on the rivers edge. This was our first day.
In a small town of less than 2,000, three major bike trails follow the old railroad bed. It winds its way through a forest of oak and ash trees...that black ribbon of asphalt. You are out there all alone...you, your bike and nature. All is still as you pedal your way across the old plank bridge, over little streams as they rush over rocks below. All you hear is the snap of a twig as your bike tire runs over it, or the soft hum of your tires. Once in a while a crow or tuttle dove will call to you from somewhere deep in the forest.
On you pedal for miles. The wind in your face, lost in your own world of thought. There is 101 miles of trail but yours ends at the mouth of a tunnel. As you near the tunnel, tall cliffs of gray white rock reach high on both sides. You round the bend and there it is! Right in front of you. The opening is huge, and as you look at it all you can see is blackness. Pure, coal blackness just waiting to swallow you up! Huge cliffs rise up on both sides, pinning you in! You just stand there, your legs straddling your bike, as you try to get the courage to walk into that dark black hole. You take a deep breath, and start to follow your husband through that huge opening and into utter darkness.
You can't breath! Everything seems to be closing in all around you! Your heart pounds hard inside your chest! You panic and scream! "I can't do this! I'm going out!" He tells you he will be back. He turns on his little flashlight, turns away from you, and in seconds he's gone, hid from you in the darkness.
You kick down the kickstand, take off your backpack, take a drink of water and a deep breath to slow your pounding heart. You notice you have no phone service, so you check the time...and you wait! You read all the information boards you can find because maybe....just maybe it will make the time go faster and he will be out of that hole! You get all that read so you look at your phone clock. Maybe ten minutes has passed. You walk back and forth between those huge cliffs that seem to hold you there! Another five minutes. You tell yourself "It will take a while, after all this thing they call a "thrill" is a mile long." Then the "what if's" start up. So you walk.
You hear a little something that could sound like footsteps echoing off walls. You look into that hole for a light. Yes! you see something! A very tiny speck of light bouncing up and down! Your heart slows down because you just know it is him! It has to be! You go to that huge entrance and holler "Honey is that you?" No answer! It's like your words holler back at you, laughing at you! All is quiet, black and spooky. You can hear water dripping from somewhere in the darkness. But there is hope....there is still that little speck of light, making its way toward you. You just stand there, your eyes glued to that little speck, holding your breath...until finally you see him! He had made it through that "thing" and back to you. On his face is a smile of satisfaction. You hop on your bike and follow him back down the trail, away from that black, dark dungeon. That was our second day.
Our third day dawns cold and misty. We knew we wouldn't be biking today, so we hop in the car and drive to Devils Lake. We followed the highway as it winds down, down, turning this way and that to the valley below. Surrounded by tall bluffs, lays a beautiful valley. A lake was at the south end and green mowed grass laid for acres. Picnic tables sat here and there among the trees. People were camping and small boats drifted there in the lake. It was quiet as motor boats were not allowed.
On went our back packs and sweat shirts. We headed up "Shoreline Trail" It followed the lake for a mile but it wasn't just walking on sand. A small, very narrow asphalt path inched its way over and around huge rocks running all the way to the lakes edge, small waves rushed up against them. On our left you could look way up on the cliff and all you saw were huge boulders of smooth rock that appeared to have fallen to the ground and there they lay. Piled there, one on top of the other, reaching up as far as your eyes could see. Some of those rocks were 3 foot square, but some as large as 6 - 8 foot square. At one place it appeared that one as big as 10 foot had come crashing down the cliff, coming to rest against a huge old oak tree, as it sat there on its edge, leaning against that old tree. On and on that black strip of asphalt went as our feet carefully walked up over those boulders until it lead us out into a flat grassy area and into a forest of oaks and ash.
Here we followed a wide gravel road as it started to inch its way up into those cliffs, deep into the forest of trees and brush. Soon we came to a small narrow rock foot path. Out of rock, someone had made hundreds of steps. Up we walked, one step at a time, stopping once in a while to get our breath, and you could feel your heart beat against your chest. Off came our sweat shirts, and we dug into our back pack for our water bottle....and on we walked up one step at a time.
At the top of that cliff, the foot path evened out some and we walked leisurely along, up a little rise and down again...over and over until we came to the half way mark. Here the trees clear away, and once again you have a breathtaking view of the valley below. In front of us laid a smooth white, light brown ledge of rock, reaching out to the very edge and seeming to drop off into nothingness. We inched ourselves out as far as we dared, and oh my!! What a view! There way below lay the dark blue of the lake and all around it the dark green of the grass. Trees here and there, looking so small way down below. We were standing there a couple hundred feet above the lake. I felt like an eagle, way up in the sky, souring so free, looking down on the beauty below. At that moment those familiar words came to my mind "Oh Lord my God. As I in awesome wonder" "When through the woods and forest glades I wonder...I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees...When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur...And see the brook and feel the gently breeze" At that moment I felt so small, standing there looking down on such grandeur, so much beauty. My heart was so full of happiness.
On day four we had a very special privilege. We took our first tour of an Amish community. As we followed those back country asphalt roads, it felt like you had entered a world where time stands still. As we slowly made our way back through the cliffs, bluffs and trees, all care fell away and we were in a world of its own.
As we rounded the bend in the road, we came up behind a low built black buggy pulled by a black horse. Sitting side by side on the wood bench seat, were two small boys, each wearing a round top straw hat. You could hear the clopping of the horse's hoofs as they hit the ground, and the hum of the steel covered wheels as it made its way down the road.
It was as if those two little boys were leading us into their little world where there is no such thing as computers, cell phones, wall phones or microwaves. Into a world where big white two story farmhouses stand next to a big red barn, its rounded sloping roof comes to a peck high above an opened hay loft door. An old bale elevator reaches up into the hole where bales ride up and are piled neatly in the loft. Into a world where a cloth line stretches from the house porch clear across to the silo, some 50 feet away. A world where dark colored dresses, and shirts and sheets flop lazily in the breeze.
Into their world where enclosed black buggies, with a red SMV sign on back, sat in driveways or make their way down tree lined back roads. Where huge gardens set in the corner of well kept lawns, with colorful flowers blooming at the edges. Into a world where three older ladies dressed in dark, stroll leisurely down the road at the end of day. Where a single room white school house stands alone at the corner where two roads met. Two old out houses stand behind, up next to a green corn field. An old silver swing set stands to the side, three boards attached to chain for the swings.
As we rounded one bend, a real surprise awaited us. We noticed there were a number of cars lining the road on both sides. We looked over to our left and there standing beside a red building was a large group of men, all wearing those round straw hats. It was a Amish auction!. We pulled in and parked.
I looked toward the white farmhouse and my heart fell in love. There hanging by a rope from the limb of an old oak tree was a tire swing. Little boys ran all around, some wearing their little hats and some had laid theirs on the grass. Little girls in long dresses swung in the old tire swing and a mother was pushing them back and forth.
As we made our way to the auction, we noticed all kinds of horse drawn machinery. There was hay equipment, two row cultivators, two bottom plows, and small spring tooth. There were strips of leather hanging from a saw horse, along with beautiful black shiny harnesses and collars. Inside the building sat heavy duty sewing machines.
Outside the ladies served homemade pies and sandwiches and cones and dishes of delicious ice cream. A white tent stretched over some tables where you could sit and eat. A little boy with suspenders holding up his little black pants, and wearing a straw hat was trying to catch a chicken that was under a old manure spreader. Little girls sat in buildings eating watermelon. Little barefoot boys and girls would walk by you licking on a ice cream cone that was dripping down their little hands. A few buggies stood at the hitching post where the horse stood chasing away flies with its tail. I treated my husband to a huge dish of ice cream for just 75 cents.
We really enjoyed our little trip, but after awhile you get "homesick" and want to go home. When we pulled into our drive way tonight the thought came to me.....No matter if you are Amish, or a highway patrol. No matter if you live in city or are just farmers like us....Home is where the heart is....and God looks down on us all.
As we drove out the drive way, I locked away all my everyday cares and all my concerns. The newspaper would pile up, the tractors are parked. In the mailbox is a note, "Hold the mail for a week." Life on the farm was on hold. We were heading north to the beautiful land of trees, rocks, lakes, biking and hiking trails, nature,....and yes....Amish.
We stood on a high cliff. Beautiful oak trees rose up tall all around us. It was evening, the sun low in the sky. All is quiet as we stand hand in hand, starring out at the breathtaking view below. Way down beneath us and as far as our eyes could see, laid a beautiful valley between tree covered hills. In that valley two rivers flow together. The great Mississippi and the Wisconsin. Way below us you could see their ribbon of blue coming together and flowing on to the south and out of sight. I couldn't help but let my imagination flow like those rivers below. I imagined what it would of been like years ago as the native Indians camped along these beautiful rivers, and ran fast and quiet over those hills, so free and happy. I heard, in my mind, their soft songs of love to one another there on the rivers edge. This was our first day.
In a small town of less than 2,000, three major bike trails follow the old railroad bed. It winds its way through a forest of oak and ash trees...that black ribbon of asphalt. You are out there all alone...you, your bike and nature. All is still as you pedal your way across the old plank bridge, over little streams as they rush over rocks below. All you hear is the snap of a twig as your bike tire runs over it, or the soft hum of your tires. Once in a while a crow or tuttle dove will call to you from somewhere deep in the forest.
On you pedal for miles. The wind in your face, lost in your own world of thought. There is 101 miles of trail but yours ends at the mouth of a tunnel. As you near the tunnel, tall cliffs of gray white rock reach high on both sides. You round the bend and there it is! Right in front of you. The opening is huge, and as you look at it all you can see is blackness. Pure, coal blackness just waiting to swallow you up! Huge cliffs rise up on both sides, pinning you in! You just stand there, your legs straddling your bike, as you try to get the courage to walk into that dark black hole. You take a deep breath, and start to follow your husband through that huge opening and into utter darkness.
You can't breath! Everything seems to be closing in all around you! Your heart pounds hard inside your chest! You panic and scream! "I can't do this! I'm going out!" He tells you he will be back. He turns on his little flashlight, turns away from you, and in seconds he's gone, hid from you in the darkness.
You kick down the kickstand, take off your backpack, take a drink of water and a deep breath to slow your pounding heart. You notice you have no phone service, so you check the time...and you wait! You read all the information boards you can find because maybe....just maybe it will make the time go faster and he will be out of that hole! You get all that read so you look at your phone clock. Maybe ten minutes has passed. You walk back and forth between those huge cliffs that seem to hold you there! Another five minutes. You tell yourself "It will take a while, after all this thing they call a "thrill" is a mile long." Then the "what if's" start up. So you walk.
You hear a little something that could sound like footsteps echoing off walls. You look into that hole for a light. Yes! you see something! A very tiny speck of light bouncing up and down! Your heart slows down because you just know it is him! It has to be! You go to that huge entrance and holler "Honey is that you?" No answer! It's like your words holler back at you, laughing at you! All is quiet, black and spooky. You can hear water dripping from somewhere in the darkness. But there is hope....there is still that little speck of light, making its way toward you. You just stand there, your eyes glued to that little speck, holding your breath...until finally you see him! He had made it through that "thing" and back to you. On his face is a smile of satisfaction. You hop on your bike and follow him back down the trail, away from that black, dark dungeon. That was our second day.
Our third day dawns cold and misty. We knew we wouldn't be biking today, so we hop in the car and drive to Devils Lake. We followed the highway as it winds down, down, turning this way and that to the valley below. Surrounded by tall bluffs, lays a beautiful valley. A lake was at the south end and green mowed grass laid for acres. Picnic tables sat here and there among the trees. People were camping and small boats drifted there in the lake. It was quiet as motor boats were not allowed.
On went our back packs and sweat shirts. We headed up "Shoreline Trail" It followed the lake for a mile but it wasn't just walking on sand. A small, very narrow asphalt path inched its way over and around huge rocks running all the way to the lakes edge, small waves rushed up against them. On our left you could look way up on the cliff and all you saw were huge boulders of smooth rock that appeared to have fallen to the ground and there they lay. Piled there, one on top of the other, reaching up as far as your eyes could see. Some of those rocks were 3 foot square, but some as large as 6 - 8 foot square. At one place it appeared that one as big as 10 foot had come crashing down the cliff, coming to rest against a huge old oak tree, as it sat there on its edge, leaning against that old tree. On and on that black strip of asphalt went as our feet carefully walked up over those boulders until it lead us out into a flat grassy area and into a forest of oaks and ash.
Here we followed a wide gravel road as it started to inch its way up into those cliffs, deep into the forest of trees and brush. Soon we came to a small narrow rock foot path. Out of rock, someone had made hundreds of steps. Up we walked, one step at a time, stopping once in a while to get our breath, and you could feel your heart beat against your chest. Off came our sweat shirts, and we dug into our back pack for our water bottle....and on we walked up one step at a time.
At the top of that cliff, the foot path evened out some and we walked leisurely along, up a little rise and down again...over and over until we came to the half way mark. Here the trees clear away, and once again you have a breathtaking view of the valley below. In front of us laid a smooth white, light brown ledge of rock, reaching out to the very edge and seeming to drop off into nothingness. We inched ourselves out as far as we dared, and oh my!! What a view! There way below lay the dark blue of the lake and all around it the dark green of the grass. Trees here and there, looking so small way down below. We were standing there a couple hundred feet above the lake. I felt like an eagle, way up in the sky, souring so free, looking down on the beauty below. At that moment those familiar words came to my mind "Oh Lord my God. As I in awesome wonder" "When through the woods and forest glades I wonder...I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees...When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur...And see the brook and feel the gently breeze" At that moment I felt so small, standing there looking down on such grandeur, so much beauty. My heart was so full of happiness.
On day four we had a very special privilege. We took our first tour of an Amish community. As we followed those back country asphalt roads, it felt like you had entered a world where time stands still. As we slowly made our way back through the cliffs, bluffs and trees, all care fell away and we were in a world of its own.
As we rounded the bend in the road, we came up behind a low built black buggy pulled by a black horse. Sitting side by side on the wood bench seat, were two small boys, each wearing a round top straw hat. You could hear the clopping of the horse's hoofs as they hit the ground, and the hum of the steel covered wheels as it made its way down the road.
It was as if those two little boys were leading us into their little world where there is no such thing as computers, cell phones, wall phones or microwaves. Into a world where big white two story farmhouses stand next to a big red barn, its rounded sloping roof comes to a peck high above an opened hay loft door. An old bale elevator reaches up into the hole where bales ride up and are piled neatly in the loft. Into a world where a cloth line stretches from the house porch clear across to the silo, some 50 feet away. A world where dark colored dresses, and shirts and sheets flop lazily in the breeze.
Into their world where enclosed black buggies, with a red SMV sign on back, sat in driveways or make their way down tree lined back roads. Where huge gardens set in the corner of well kept lawns, with colorful flowers blooming at the edges. Into a world where three older ladies dressed in dark, stroll leisurely down the road at the end of day. Where a single room white school house stands alone at the corner where two roads met. Two old out houses stand behind, up next to a green corn field. An old silver swing set stands to the side, three boards attached to chain for the swings.
As we rounded one bend, a real surprise awaited us. We noticed there were a number of cars lining the road on both sides. We looked over to our left and there standing beside a red building was a large group of men, all wearing those round straw hats. It was a Amish auction!. We pulled in and parked.
I looked toward the white farmhouse and my heart fell in love. There hanging by a rope from the limb of an old oak tree was a tire swing. Little boys ran all around, some wearing their little hats and some had laid theirs on the grass. Little girls in long dresses swung in the old tire swing and a mother was pushing them back and forth.
As we made our way to the auction, we noticed all kinds of horse drawn machinery. There was hay equipment, two row cultivators, two bottom plows, and small spring tooth. There were strips of leather hanging from a saw horse, along with beautiful black shiny harnesses and collars. Inside the building sat heavy duty sewing machines.
Outside the ladies served homemade pies and sandwiches and cones and dishes of delicious ice cream. A white tent stretched over some tables where you could sit and eat. A little boy with suspenders holding up his little black pants, and wearing a straw hat was trying to catch a chicken that was under a old manure spreader. Little girls sat in buildings eating watermelon. Little barefoot boys and girls would walk by you licking on a ice cream cone that was dripping down their little hands. A few buggies stood at the hitching post where the horse stood chasing away flies with its tail. I treated my husband to a huge dish of ice cream for just 75 cents.
We really enjoyed our little trip, but after awhile you get "homesick" and want to go home. When we pulled into our drive way tonight the thought came to me.....No matter if you are Amish, or a highway patrol. No matter if you live in city or are just farmers like us....Home is where the heart is....and God looks down on us all.
thanks for the lil getaway Helen <3
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