Day 63 - Louisville, Kentucky to Madison, Indiana

Today we set out to accomplish nothing at all. Well, that's not exactly correct, we did set out to drive somewhere. We just had no idea where that somewhere would be. We didn't plan on visiting any museums or battlefields or historic sites of any kind. We just wanted to wander our way out of Kentucky and end up in Indiana by nightfall. This would have been easy had we chosen to jump on Interstate 65 that ran by our camp in Sheperdsville, Kentucky (Louisville). Indiana was only a dozen miles north of us.

So, naturally, we didn't do that. Instead we headed south out of Sheperdsville on Interstate 65, away from the Ohio River, until we reached Kentucky Route 245. We drove route 245 for awhile, then switched to Route 62. Just before mid day we switched again, this time to Route 127. While motoring on Route 127 we stopped for gas and groceries in the town of Lawrenceburg, then we continued up Route 127 until we reached Kentucky's capital city, Frankfort.

The attractions listed on the brown highway signs were enticing in Frankfort, but before we could decide whether or not to take advantage of those attractions, I switched off Route 127 and went hill-climbing on Kentucky Route 421. We traveled route 421 all the way to the Indiana border and over the bridge to the charming town of Madison where our rig now rests peacefully with the Ohio River just beyond.

As you can see, our major aim was to avoid the Interstates today, and were we ever successful. We traveled roads today that were so narrow (see photo upper right), I sometimes drove right down the center of the road with the yellow line centered beneath us.

You never know what you're going to see as you thread your way through some of the tiny rural towns in this country. My favorite shot of the day was of a bunch of guys putting up a giant American flag (photo left). I suppose they were dressing up the town for some celebration. I never did find out what that celebration might have been. Still, I thought it was a great human interest moment.

After wandering all day in Kentucky, we finally crossed over the Madison/Milton bridge into Indiana. As we were crossing, I happened to look over and see a tiny RV park almost right at the foot of the bridge. The time was just short of 3:00 p.m. and we usually drive a bit longer, but here was a bird in the hand. We had no idea where we were going to stay this evening, so the tiny RV park might just do fine.

So, once on the Indiana side I began scouting around until I found the proper street that led to the entrance. Once found, we just pulled in and parked in a spot, ran the rig up on the ramps to level, then plugged in the utilities. We could see that the camp was posted as Madison Municipal. We have, in the past, encountered free municipal camps, so we didn't make any effort to find a way to pay. However, it wasn't long and the resident camp host came knocking on the door and asked me if, when I had the time, I would mind stopping by his rig to pay the fee and fill out the necessary paperwork.

Oh, well, pay or no pay, it's still one of the very nicest locations we've ever had -- in any state. The Ohio River is literally right in our front yard!

So, once we were squared away with the camp host, we put on our hiking shoes and headed for the historic part of town. The town was settled in 1809 and has one of the largest historic sections in the whole country. 133 blocks are on the historic register. The Chicago Tribune once described Madison as the "best preserved town in the mid west." Knowing, as you do, that my great love is historic architecture, you know where my head was located. I couldn't swivel my neck fast enough to take it all in.

When we grew hot and tired of walking, we ducked into an ice cream shop, deciding to treat ourselves before we walked the mile back to camp. It was Blue Bell ice cream and, after trying a double scoop of the Pralines, I'd have to agree that Blue Bell makes some mighty fine ice cream. Concetta had the Pumpkin Spice Pecan, which I had never heard of, but she said it was mighty fine. Most of the time when the two of us have ice cream, I end up finishing hers. Not this time. She ate every last morsel.

After ice cream, we abandoned the main street with all the gloriously-restored houses, and wandered down to the river. We walked along and I took a dozen shots of the bridge over which we'd arrived. The sun was getting low, the winds were soft and warm, and it was just the most romantic place to be on a spring afternoon.

At one point on our walk, as I was gazing out at the bridge, I noticed a big sign on the side of the center bridge pillar. The sign had the numbers, 50....40....30, reading up from the water. "Now that's odd," I told Concetta. "Why wouldn't the numbers read from 30 to 50 going up, as in thirty feet of water, forty feet of water, fifty feet of water -- as the river rises during a flood?" She couldn't understand it, either.

So, I did what I have become accustomed to doing in a strange city when I want to know something, I stopped the very next person we encountered and asked him.

"Well," the stranger said, "the sign's not reading up from the water, it's reading down from the bridge."

I didn't really understand his answer, but he went on to tell us all about how the bridge had been constructed over the last four years and that the old bridge had been destroyed recently, dropped into the river, and then the pieces plucked off the river bottom with sonar and special equipment.

Now that sounded interesting, we told him. "Just a minute," he said, and then dashed over to his nearby pickup and returned with a collection of photos of the whole process.

What followed was a wonderful conversation with the old gentleman, on the bridge, and a dozen other topics. He was born in 1933 and had lived in Madison his whole life. He'd seen all the floods. At one point he pointed to a house across the street and said, "the flood waters of '64 came to the peek of the roof on that one." (photo left)

We looked at the current level of the river and it was WAY down below us, at least thirty feet. Now THAT was some flood, we thought. At any rate, as we continued to talk to our new friend, Jack Bird was his name, we discovered that he's quite a photographer, mostly specializing in wildlife. He also had photos of his wildlife shots in the truck and we got to see them as well.

Jack was really a great guy and we just loved talking to him. In fact, once we had walked on, we regretted not asking him to join us somewhere for dinner. We're just certain he could go on for hours about Madison and all the happenings since 1933. He's single now that his wife passed five years ago. He was married for 53 years, and tells us that he has not been able to get over losing her. What a guy!

If you want to see some of Jack's wildlife photos, go to: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jackbird/