Paths of Kansas

No one was leaving Colorado for Kansas this morning. Across 400 miles of both states, none on interstate highway after Pueblo, the roads never felt busy. Congestion meant two or more trucks, nothing else. 

Follow U.S. 50 and the Arkansas River, and a car trip easily retraces the old Santa Fe Trail. There's a lot more to find on a loop tour through Kansas, even with minimal time in its biggest town and no time in the biggest town with its name. 

The intrigue does not wait long once crossing into western Kansas. I have to try to avoid Truman Capote’s descriptions of the region that frame the heinous crime that the center of In Cold Blood. 

One could pass through Holcomb, the tiny town where the Clutter family was murdered for a nonexistent fortune. But the Finney County Museum in neighboring Garden City has a large exhibit dedicating to the crime, including a bloody boot worn by Perry Smith that proved a key piece of evidence in convicting Smith and Richard Hickock of the crime. 

The pair were tried and found guilty at the Finney County Courthouse in Garden City, then executed in 1965. It’s hard not to think of that murder when in this country; even 60-plus years later, such a violent event feels out of place. 

Past Garden City, western Kansas offers a collision of colors – the golden wheat fields, patches of green corn and forests, then the intimidatingly blue skies to pull it together. What patchy clouds cross endless fields only sharpen the contrasts. This days’ wispy clouds on a severe blue background. Fields of green and gold sprouted corn and wheat. Farm machinery harvested fields, kicking up dust as they scoured the rows. year. A stiff wind shook acres of fields at a time, the young corn undulating like sea grasses. 

It might not have mountains, but only a truly sour mind could not grasp the beauty in western Kansas. The cities are small, almost nonexistent for the 100 miles between Garden City and Great Bend. Larned barely pokes up before vanishing into fields again. 

Fort Larned

Fort Larned barracks

Before Larned comes its namesake, Fort Larned, a national historic site and the best-preserved fort on the Santa Fe Trail. Stepping out at Fort Larned, the heat pushed in. It was brutal, even as a thin coat of clouds settled above. 

Even on a record-setting day, this fort should not be skipped. The smith shop and forges were silent today, with only a handful of visitors among the fort buildings. The barracks were a little hot, but the quartermaster’s storehouse, which was twice as tall as the other structures, held a refreshing supply of cool air behind its double doors. 

 By comparison, Great Bend and its 15,000 residents offer a metropolis. Here the Arkansas takes a major turn south to Wichita and across northeastern Oklahoma. Downtown bustled as we stopped at Dry Lake Brewing, a comfortable taproom with many tasty brews on tap. I went for a blueberry blonde, which almost went down as easily as water on this 102-degree day. For a second, I had their SMASH IPA, this version made with the assertive Idaho 7 hop. Dry Lake was the brand of brewery one hoped would serve brews in Great Bend for decades to come. 

Traffic was almost thick in Great Bend. But two block south of downtown, it died entirely as if the town were strung north along U.S. 50 and immediately ceded the land to farms again. Trees, even forests, grew common as the road jogged south. The day ended in Pratt, a small town 60 miles west of Wichita. A clean, no-frills hotel room could be had for $50. 

As it tend to on the Plains, morning arrived in gashes of red to the east. Rick’s Restaurant, a roadside breakfast spot that might hold 50 people. They served a pretty classic breakfast, hearty and good for six hours without another meal. Sadly, the restaurant had a “for sale” sign on the window, an omen that the changing travel patterns of American did not have room for a modest meal. Pratt sat right off U.S. 50 but 70 miles from an interstate, and few people budged from those travel patterns anymore, no matter what got overlooked on the easy routes. 

Follow U.S. 50 long enough and it spills into the highways of Wichita, the state’s largest town. Botanica, the city’s expansive gardens, were closed for an all-day pollinator event. Time did not allow waiting in Wichita. 

The Keeper of the Plains

A quick stop at The Keeper of the Plains, a Native American-designed statue at the confluence of the Little Arkansas and Arkansas rivers. B I would not mind coming back to Kansas’ largest city, but it might be a while. The 400,000-person town has all the big city trappings, so it isn’t out of the question. 

 With Botanica out as a stop, one can head north to the tiny town of Pilsen, settled by Czechs and still home to a well-kept Catholic church and cemetery. Like many small Kansas towns, the church steeple gives away the town center. 

For a century Pilsen has centered on St. John Nepomucene Catholic Church, with Saint Wenceslas near the altar and Czech language notations for parishioners whose donations paid for the stained-glass Stations of the Cross. The facilities include a shrine to its best-known resident, Chaplain Emil Kapaun, who had been a U.S. Army chaplain during WWII in the Burmese Theater then the Korean War, where he died in a prison camp. 

Ranch house at the Spring Hill/Bar Z Ranch

Pilsen lies on the edge of the Flint Hills and the tallgrass prairie, which has its largest protected tract in the Tallgrass Prairie Natural Reserve near Strong City. The prairie was quiet as its many trails were too exposed for casual hikes. But the reserve has temporarily moved its visitor center into the historic ranch house on the prairie compound, offering a view of life on the former ranch that dates back almost 140 years. 

Emporia, once the epitome of small-town journalism when William Allan White ran the Emporia Gazette, deserves a stop. Still a college town, Emporia shows the signs of wear, although it has an active historic district built on two one-way streets. 

Emporia State is quiet in summer, although on Saturday afternoon the streets are short but lively. Heat relief came quickly upon departing Emporia, as rain pounded the Kansas Turnpike. 

Topeka had sprawled out of a small urban core, as many state capitals tend to do. The state capitol was still the tallest building in town, with a ring of mid-rise towers around its adjacent blocks. 

Me and Gov. Capper

View from Senate Suites balcony

While most capitol grounds die on the weekends, a small Pride festival enlivened a nearby block, and people milled around the bars and craft breweries along one of Topeka’s main drags. 

A series of sculptures told the history of Topeka through its industries and the people who had been critical to the city’s growth. Near the capitol lies the Senate Luxury Suites, a pair of century-old buildings that likely still serve as long-term apartments during Kansas legislative sessions. 

Wilson egg

Landscape drew Czech immigrants to Kansas, and Wilson has held on longer than Pilsen, still touting itself as the Czech Capital of Kansas. 

Wilson boasts the world’s largest Czech eggand a small commercial district that still draws a crowd for its meals and its kolache, the Czech pastry (we keep coming back to them in this blog, don’t we). Wilson straddled the railroad tracks, but its main commercial blocks were locked in decay. That one restaurant still operated was a stroke of luck. 

 From Wilson the interstate began its slow climb back to Colorado. Along the grain silos, the towns counted off by the distant steeples of churches. 

Tempting as it might be to write them all off as the same, I suspected each little town had their own stories still worth exploring. But the stories would await those bold enough to leave the highway.