The Bigger Picture

    The future of Greenways, Blueways and Trails in our region depends on a much larger vision.  A vision that not only considers each individual asset but how they all compliment and connect with each other.  We designed the trails at Saunders Springs to progress riders from easier trails like Freeman Lake to the more advanced trails at Youngers Creek or Ft Duffield.  Now we need to use that philosophy with other facilities in the Lincoln Trail ADD. We need facilities for everyone who would like to enjoy human powered recreation whether it be to fish, geocache, hike, run, paddle or ride.  Whether they choose to recreate in hiking boots, kayak, wheelchair, handcycle or bicycle.

    Now is the time to solidify this vision by finding other like minded individuals, organizations and businesses.  We have started making connections with Greenspace, Etown Paddlers Association, the Lincoln Heritage District of the Boy Scouts of America,Girl Scouts, Running Soles, Outdoor Ventures and Etown Cyclery.   Email Vince or watch here for more information.

     

    One of our Visions is to create and establish the trails that John Muir took from (Started in Indianapolis) Louisville to the gulf of Mexico. John Muir (1838-1914) was America’s most famous and influential naturalist and conservationist. He is one of California’s most important historical personalities. He has been called “The Father of our National Parks,” “Wilderness Prophet,” and “Citizen of the Universe.” (http://vault.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/about/)
    We hope to not only teach the next generation about history, but also help provide an environment that people can enjoy. Maybe even see some of the sights that John Muir did Written in his book, “A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf”. 

    Small Excerpt from A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf, Written by John Muir

    Kentucky Forests and Caves

    I Had long been looking from the wildwoods and gardens of the Northern States to those of the warm South, and at last, all draw-backs overcome, I set forth [from Indianapolis] on the first day of September, 1867, joyful and free, on a thousand-mile walk to the Gulf of Mexico. [The trip to Jeffersonville, on the banks of the Ohio, was made by rail.] Crossing the Ohio at Louisville [September 2], I steered through the big city by compass without speaking a word to any one. Beyond the city I found a road running southward, and after passing a scatterment of suburban cabins and cottages I reached the green woods and spread out my pocket map to rough-hew a plan for my journey.
    My plan was simply to push on in a general southward direction by the wildest, leafiest, and least trodden way I could find, promising
    the greatest extent of virgin forest. Folding my map, I shouldered my little bag and plant press and strode away among the old Kentucky
    oaks, rejoicing in splendid visions of pines and palms and tropic flowers in glorious array, not, however, without a few cold shadows
    of loneliness, although the great oaks seemed to spread their arms in welcome.
    I have seen oaks of many species in many kinds of exposure and soil, but those of Kentucky excel in grandeur all I had ever before
    beheld. They are broad and dense and bright green. In the leafy bowers and caves of their long branches dwell magnificent avenues of
    shade, and every tree seems to be blessed with a double portion of strong exulting life. Walked twenty miles, mostly on river bottom,
    and found shelter in a rickety tavern.
    September 3.
    Escaped from the dust and squalor of my garret bedroom to the glorious forest. All the streams that I tasted hereabouts
    are salty and so are the wells. Salt River was nearly dry. Much of my way this forenoon was over naked limestone. After passing the
    level ground that extended twenty-five or thirty miles from the river I came to a region of rolling hills called Kentucky Knobs — hills
    of denudation covered with trees to the top. Some of them have a few pines. For a few hours I followed the farmers’ paths, but soon
    wandered away from roads and encountered many a tribe of twisted vines difficult to pass.

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    The future of Greenways, Blueways and Trails in our region depends on a much larger vision.  A vision that not only considers each individual asset but how they all compliment and connect with each other.  We designed the trails at Saunders Springs to progress riders from easier trails like Freeman Lake to the more advanced trails at Youngers Creek or Ft Duffield.  Now we need to use that philosophy with other facilities in the Lincoln Trail ADD. We need facilities for everyone who would like to enjoy human powered recreation whether it be to fish, geocache, hike, run, paddle or ride.  Whether they choose to recreate in hiking boots, kayak, wheelchair, handcycle or bicycle.

    Now is the time to solidify this vision by finding other like minded individuals, organizations and businesses.  We have started making connections with Greenspace, Etown Paddlers Association, the Lincoln Heritage District of the Boy Scouts of America,Girl Scouts, Running Soles, Outdoor Ventures and Etown Cyclery.   Email Vince or watch here for more information.

     

    One of our Visions is to create and establish the trails that John Muir took from (Started in Indianapolis) Louisville to the gulf of Mexico. John Muir (1838-1914) was America’s most famous and influential naturalist and conservationist. He is one of California’s most important historical personalities. He has been called “The Father of our National Parks,” “Wilderness Prophet,” and “Citizen of the Universe.” (http://vault.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/about/)
    We hope to not only teach the next generation about history, but also help provide an environment that people can enjoy. Maybe even see some of the sights that John Muir did Written in his book, “A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf”. 

    Small Excerpt from A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf, Written by John Muir

    Kentucky Forests and Caves

    I Had long been looking from the wildwoods and gardens of the Northern States to those of the warm South, and at last, all draw-backs
    overcome, I set forth [from Indianapolis] on the first day of September, 1867, joyful and free, on a thousand-mile walk to the Gulf
    of Mexico. [The trip to Jeffersonville, on the banks of the Ohio, was made by rail.] Crossing the Ohio at Louisville [September 2], I
    steered through the big city by compass without speaking a word to any one. Beyond the city I found a road running southward, and
    after passing a scatterment of suburban cabins and cottages I reached the green woods and spread out my pocket map to rough-hew
    a plan for my journey.
    My plan was simply to push on in a general southward direction by the wildest, leafiest, and least trodden way I could find, promising
    the greatest extent of virgin forest. Folding my map, I shouldered my little bag and plant press and strode away among the old Kentucky
    oaks, rejoicing in splendid visions of pines and palms and tropic flowers in glorious array, not, however, without a few cold shadows
    of loneliness, although the great oaks seemed to spread their arms in welcome.
    I have seen oaks of many species in many kinds of exposure and soil, but those of Kentucky excel in grandeur all I had ever before
    beheld. They are broad and dense and bright green. In the leafy bowers and caves of their long branches dwell magnificent avenues of
    shade, and every tree seems to be blessed with a double portion of strong exulting life. Walked twenty miles, mostly on river bottom,
    and found shelter in a rickety tavern.
    September 3.
    Escaped from the dust and squalor of my garret bedroom to the glorious forest. All the streams that I tasted hereabouts
    are salty and so are the wells. Salt River was nearly dry. Much of my way this forenoon was over naked limestone. After passing the
    level ground that extended twenty-five or thirty miles from the river I came to a region of rolling hills called Kentucky Knobs — hills
    of denudation covered with trees to the top. Some of them have a few pines. For a few hours I followed the farmers’ paths, but soon
    wandered away from roads and encountered many a tribe of twisted vines difficult to pass.

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