Well, here we are, checking out a few of the 98 remaining covered bridges that still exist in Indiana. Only Pennsylvania and Vermont have more of them, while over in Arizona, we are one of the 19 states that have none.
Maybe it’s because the architecture of such bridges is no longer in favor that these appear to be so attractive. While I have no idea how often they have to be rebuilt, they do seem to have some durability with the oldest one over in New York dating to 1825.
Hmmm, it would be quite the epic journey to try documenting the more than 850 covered bridges across the country, but then again, that would probably take years to accomplish while neglecting everything else. I guess I can be grateful to see the seven we’ll be visiting or paddling under today.
We are a country where the number of buildings older than 200 years is likely under a few dozen compared to Europe, where there are buildings that have been in continuous use for more than 1,500 years. These random wooden anomalies represent a relatively ancient age here in the United States, though there are people still alive who are older than more than a few of these covered bridges.
In just a few hours, we’ll be seeing this from a different perspective, as in underneath it when we paddle down Sugar Creek.
With no ceremony, training, or others nearby to learn from, we pushed off in our rented canoe from Turkey Run State Park into Sugar Creek.
Two kayakers quickly followed but were soon well in front of us dawdlers. Nervous caution gave way to an exhilarating wow factor as the slow-moving, shallow creek allowed us to float downstream at our own pace, lingering as we came upon sights such as this.
It wasn’t long before shallow became so shallow that our little canoe would get stuck in the sand and gravel creek bed not once or twice but more than a few times. With paddles pushing and our desire not to step out of our canoe for fear of not being able to get back in without tipping it over, we shoved, bounced, and prodded the canoe free and once again were afloat. Until we ran up sideways against some tree limbs.
Funny how slow-moving water picks up speed near rocks and trees. Just before the current promised to roll our canoe, I pushed against a tree and somehow backed us away from the wedge long enough for us to paddle like mad and move around the fallen tree.
Of course, it wasn’t long before the next gotcha moment was bound to happen. We were fairly certain that we could go right over the minor blockage of thin tree branches; who knew that as we entered the wishbone, we would be hoisted aloft as though on a car jack stuck dead in the water.
PUSH, Caroline, no push that way; I said, no, the other way, not that right, the other right, see I told you I’d take care of it.
Fine, I don’t care if next time you canoe on your own. No, I’m not angry, and I’m not yelling; I was just a bit nervous. Well, we made it without further incident.
Maybe you are looking at this creek and are thinking, John, that looks mighty calm, but what you aren’t seeing are those parts where panic wasn’t going to allow me to photograph my own close encounter with death as I laser-focused on yelling at Caroline to get us out the pickle I couldn’t handle.
Our first canoe trip on Sugar Creek under covered bridges on a beautiful warm fall day – a day to remember. By the way, you might notice that this was one of the bridges we’d seen earlier; it’s the Jackson Covered Bridge, built back in 1861.
Phew…she’s still smiling.
Of course, we stopped at Gobbler’s Knob for no other reason than the appealing name.
Gifts from Gobbler’s Knob. Yep, I just love writing out Gobbler’s Knob.
We are heading back to Chicago, Illinois, as this road trip into the colors of fall is about to end. Tomorrow morning we’ll catch a flight back to Arizona and can say without reservation that this has been an incredible journey every minute we’ve been out here.
