Quiet roads where the west begins

Fort Larned National Historic Site

 

After the national preserve, I ran into the quiet I expected from federal roads in Kansas. Few cars plied the roads between these small towns. If they did, they usually turned off pretty quickly or passed me like I wasn’t moving. I had nowhere to be. A train carrying dozens of wind turbine blades headed east. I had to stop and observe its crossing. Seeing the blades at short distance, so close and huge, was rare. 

At one point I wandered just 18 miles from Wichita and nearly took the turn. The land stayed lush and green. I crossed farm fields and passed feed lots, scores of town that spanned a few blocks and receded to farm fields.

 A series of spring rainstorms pelted the road irregularly all day as I moved further west. I skipped through McPherson, then Great Bend came and went. 

I contemplated a trip up to Cheyenne Bottoms, the largest marsh/wetlands in the U.S. interior. Cheyenne Bottoms draws 300 species of birds and on warm sunny days Mississauga rattlesnakes sun themselves on the pavement. As it was rainy and overcast, I reminded myself I had no need to cover all of Kansas in one trip - it would be here.

South of Great Bend, Pawnee Rock had been an important landmark on the Santa Fe Trail, but now stood greatly diminished after railroad workers removing 10-20 feet of stone for road bed. That also strips away some mystique even if Pawnee Rock once marked the unofficial halfway point on the trail. The rock seen by Santa Trail travelers has little resemblance to what stands today. 

I had another destination in mind, one out of place in the 21st century but a necessary stopover on the Santa Fe Trail for travelers seeking to avoid local Indian tribes. On a quiet bend of the Pawnee River, several miles from the town of Larned, Fort Larned National Historic Site covers a well-preserved Army post looks like a city unto itself above the Pawnee’s tree-lined banks. 

What makes Larned unique is its construction. With little timber available on the tallgrass prairie, the Army constructed most of Fort Larned’s buildings from stone, and that aided in its preservation. Sadly the names carved into the stone were not from the fort’s active years, but from people who visited during the 70 years when a private ranch operated out of the fort. 

The fort had a lived-in feel, also pulsed with living history. Reenactors occupied some buildings, with forges and cooking fires burning, and the stone buildings seemed fresh enough that drilling troops might round a corner at any moment. The little turn in the Pawnee River was as interesting as the fort. Birdsong erupted from the steep but tree-lined banks. 

Few places disappointed as greatly as Dodge City. Every step felt industrial or completely intended to draw in tourists. Nothing interested me about it. The museum housing the Longbranch Saloon seemed artificial and without connection to the town’s history. Maybe it was the nearby Applebees that soured me. All I really wanted was to say, Hey Underpants!” to a surly bartender, and no place seemed acceptable to that. 

Garden City business district

I moved along to Garden City, letting my gas supply grow low just to add a little tension to the drive. Storms raged over the commercial district. When they finished, the air felt hot and dry. Garden City had the charm of a big-city zoo in a city park. 

The volume of small zoos across Kansas amazed me. Not all were of high quality, I heard. Maybe the small-town zoos were echoes from a more progressive time in Kansas. I'm not sure exactly, but that seems plausible.

Posing lemurs

Not a morning lemur

Welcoming committee

My pace made it impossible to spend a lot of time on zoos. I had to pick one, and my last stop felt like the right one. In Garden City, the Lee Richardson Zoo has a strong cluster of exhibits in a forested city park.

The lions watched me closely as they sunned atop rocks in their broad enclosure. Morning breath steamed from the bison and elk. 

A mixed flock of African birds rushed over to me at an overlook, apparently excited at the zoo’s first guest of the morning. I had nothing for them, but they didn't seem to mind.

Australian Gothic

Fortunately there were many active creatures. The river otters fed on fish in their false river. A pair of bobcats romped around their enclosure. 

Several types of lemurs swung through their netted homes. Three different species swung around.

The only omission on this chilly morning was the rhinoceros and its baby, the zoo's headline attraction since the birth several months earlier. Even the giraffes would only peak out of their heated building. Anytime they leaned out close enough for me to grab the camera, they ducked inside. 

After Garden City and the 100th Meridian, which passes through Dodge City, the land begins to lose the influence of the Ogallala Aquifer and influence of air off the Gulf Mexico. The lush greens grow muted then shift to straight-up browns. The underground reserves stop showing themselves and here the West arrived. As everything browned, I crossed the state line and ventured into Holly, the lowest altitude city in Colorado. From Holly, every mile home was uphill.