What We Found at the Centers (Part I)
As you all know, our journey’s goal is to visit the geographic center of every state on our bicycle. So far, we have been to twenty of fifty states, but unfortunately, we have been lax in writing up our experiences on our website. (We have been faithful in keeping notes in our physical journal, so our aspirations of writing a book after we’re done is still a possibility.)
But in the meantime, before we share the details of our trek to the center of Hawaii (a truly unique and remote locale), we decided to post a summary of what we’ve found at the centers of the states we’ve been to thus far. So without further delay…
Oklahoma
The center of Oklahoma, despite being in the heart of the state’s largest city, is in an open field that (save for the self-storage building to the north) looks as though it might have never been touched by the hand of man. A riot of wildflowers were in evidence among the prairie tallgrasses when we visited in June, while a lone western red cedar grew a few yards away. To the south, a ribbon of dark green trees signaled the presence of a trickling creek (this creek also served as a boundary between the field where the center lies and the neighborhood to the south.) Oklahoma also had the distinction of having been the only geographic center to date that was visibly on the market. Act now–you can be the steward of a lovely piece of the prairie at the heart of Oklahoma!
Arkansas
The center of Arkansas lies on Mount Pulaski to the north of the town of Maumelle, not far from the place where Palarm Creek flows into the mighty Arkansas. The property has been in the Prater family for several generations, and the current steward (Barry) and his sons both grew up playing among these hills, while his mother ran the town’s general store for decades. Barry was at home when we showed up to hunt down the center; he gave us full freedom to traipse about on his hillside, then treated us to cold drinks on the patio while we chatted for hours. After his wife and son returned home for the evening, they took us out for pizza at a local piehouse, then put us up for the night in their cozy RV out back. A hearty welcome by the stewards of the heart of Arkansas!
Missouri
The center of Missouri took us to the tiny town of Eldon, then down a gravel road (Frank Street) to the home at 123 Frank Street, which was owned by David and Maryann Frank. David was on the tractor when we arrived at his lovely farmhouse with GPS in hand, tracking down the center like a bloodhound. Once we explained our quest to David, he enthusiastically corralled his family to escort us on our hunt for the center. We hopped into the back of the truck and headed down the hill with David, his wife, his son, and his granddaughter. Parking near the farm’s long turkey coups, we walked past a barn filled with composting turkey manure, around a blackberry bramble, and into a hay field that the Franks were soon to cut. There, at the edge of the hayfield, we honed in on the center; David proudly produced a hammer and flagged pole to drive into the spot, marking the location. We all posed together at the center, then headed back to the farmhouse to chat. This farm has been in the Frank family for decades, and four generations of Franks still live on the land. David’s mother came over for a visit that evening, allowing us to meet all four living generations of Franks. Maryann graciously brought us warm quesadillas and cold drinks at dinner, and we were allowed to pitch our tent on the lush lawn overnight after enjoying a warm shower in David & Maryann’s home. Though some of our travels in Missouri (not the most bike-friendly in the union) were trying, our visit to the center and the Frank family was able to redeem the state’s reputation from innumerable bad drivers.
Illinois
Time to confirm some stereotypes here: the center of Illinois was in the middle of a field, a mile from the nearest road. The land was flat, the soil was black and rich, and the crop was corn. But we had to walk through a half mile of soybeans (carefully not trampling them!) to get to the center. Flat land, black soil, corn and soybean fields: that’s a pretty good summary of central Illinois. But the center of Illinois was unique in one respect–the town it was in (Chester) was the only one so far who was self-aware of its geographic centrality. A painted wooden sign beneath the grain elevator proclaimed: “Welcome to Chester, the geographic center of Illinois!” Walking the one-block, one-side-of-the-street Main Street, we pieced together the story.
We walked past the burned-out and not rebuilt general store (we’d learned of this tragedy from a crestfallen girl in a neighboring town: “We lost our only Coke machine! But it always did give you Mellow Yellow, no matter what button you pushed”) Next door, the Postmaster in the Post Office told us the story of a young man, a university student in some kind of travel and tourism degree, who’d come to town one day with the news: “Chester is the geographic center of Illinois!” His vision was to revive the dwindling farm town by building tourist-attracting industry centered around, well The Center. The young man was apparently an enthusiastic and persuasive salesman; press coverage had ranged from local newsletters to Chicago papers to national morning news programs. Elaborate ideas and plans were drawn up, including a tower hundreds of feet tall stabbing into the wide open Illinois skies, Cleopatra’s Needle among a sea of corn. A tiny triangular park was built across from the Main Street strip, with a marker indicating the town’s geographic uniqueness, but the tower, nor the tourism boom, ever materialized. Past the diner (closed), we entered the bank to chat, but were instead handed a scrapbook of press coverage about the town’s temporary fame. Since then, the town has settled quite comfortably back into its ways as a rural farm community, holding a mixture of pride and jadedness about the Geographic Center issue.
Wisconsin
The center of Wisconsin was an unusually communal event, since we had hooked up with the Bike Northwoods Tour for a few days across Wisconsin. The two days before arriving at the center we spent the day cycling with several hundred fellow bicycle touring enthusiasts, riding on low-traffic backroads on perfectly planned routes. We met and befriended cyclists from all over the country and got to experience a much more social way of touring. The nights were spent camping at area schools, with a much-welcomed shower awaiting inside in the locker rooms. On the third night, the tour was scheduled to stay in the tiny town of Auburndale, once again at the high school. Serendipitously, the geographic center of Wisconsin was actually next to the football field at Auburndale High, so that night after dinner, Laura and I stood up before the group, explained our quest to everyone, and welcomed all to come out and join us for our picture at the geographic center. I’m not sure how many were with us in the picture, but I’m pretty sure that we’ll not be joined by that many fellow touring cyclists at any other center! Overall, Wisconsin was a wonderful state, the first to strongly tempt us to move there after our journey is completed (and we didn’t even visit reputedly marvelous Madison!)
Michigan
Our choice to pedal over the Upper Peninsula (and spend our first anniversary there in a B & B on the shores of Lake Michigan) meant that we were in Michigan for a long time. The discovery of the center followed suit, occupying nearly a whole day of bushwhacking through the wilds of Pere Marquette State Forest to reach it. We ditched our bike in some tall grass along near the dirt road that took us to within 1.6 miles of the center, then began following a path that lead in approximately the right direction. We crossed through a field of tall grass, passed a small pond, then entered the forest proper. After a short while, the path began leading in a direction far from the center, so we opted to begin bushwhacking. Some of the forest was older growth, with knee-high ferns on the forest floor to wade through. At other times, the woods were young, with trees the size of your wrist at close intervals, making our progress slow and tedious. A few boggy areas were encountered then skirted, and a few times we crossed paths in the woods, unsure of where they went and whether they could ease our advancement.
Unexpectedly, we came across a house in the apparent middle of nowhere, and decided to knock. A young teenage girl answered the door; her parents weren’t around, and she was visibly nervous, so we thanked her and moved on. We followed the dirt road that her house was on for a while, but this too eventually diverged from our intended direction. Back in the woods, we finally arrived at the center, out of water and snacks. We set up our tripod among the ferns, under the dappled light filtering through the tall hardwoods, and snapped our center photo. It had been an exhausting walk, and we were worried about our lack of water and food for the long trip back. However, we soon came across a path and decided to see if it could speed our return. Although we encountered many intersecting paths, we always chose the one whose direction most closely matched the direction back to the bike, and sure enough, they led us all the way back out of the woods, past the pond, and to our waiting bicycle. In all, the return trip took a third the time the slog out had taken! But we were happy to be back at our bike, having successfully explored our way to our sixth state center.
Indiana
Entering Indiana from the north, we passed through the Amish country of Elkhart county. Here we encountered the Miller family, who welcomed us into their home for one of the most enjoyable and eye-opening evenings of our trip. Although there are innumerable “Amish” tourist draws in this area, we found that spending the night with an Amish family connected us with and helped us to understand this unique group far more than any “Amish Opry” theme park or “Amish furniture” store ever could.
Indiana, like Oklahoma, has placed its capital city at the very heart of the state. Although the majority of our experience in Indiana was rural farm country, the center fell in the suburbs of northwest Indianapolis. On the morning we set out for the center, our plan was to ride the seventy-plus miles to the center then pray that the family there would be hospitable to us, since we would likely be too knackered from the long day’s ride to pedal around a big city in search of accommodation. That day the wind blew strongly against us, and we struggled mightily to make our destination. Upon entering the community that held the center, we became nervous. To be frank, we have found that the wealthier a person is, the less likely they are to be trusting of and hospitable to strangers on a bicycle. When we passed a Bentley dealership less than a mile from the center, we really started wondering what manner of reception we would receive. As we pedaled into the neighborhood containing the center, with its massive, ostentatious homes, I began formulating a “Plan B” for accommodation for the night.
GPS in hand, we approached the estate that contained the center. Outside, we met a man who was practicing his putting on the back lawn. His reception was disinterested at best. We attempted to chat with him, but to little avail, so we asked permission to take our center picture. He declined our offer to be in the photo, but called out his teenage daughter to join us. His wife also came out, and after the photo, the ladies of the house were warm and eager conversationalists. After half an hour of chatting, I began getting nervous about the lowering sun, so we prepared to set off. However, just before we mounted our bike, the mother ran over and invited us to stay on their lawn overnight and enjoy a warm shower inside. We at first hesitated, sensing that perhaps the husband was not as enthusiastic to host us. Yet she insisted, telling us that our description of the way that our journey allows us to rely more fully on God to provide for our daily needs had touched her.
After setting up camp out back and showering, we got to chat a little more with mother and daughter over fresh berries and cream. In the end, we came to see this family as representing both the best and the worst of the “American Dream”. The fact that an African-American man from a family of twelve has become a managing partner in one of Indianapolis’s largest accounting firms seems to indicate that advancement and success is available to anyone with talent and a strong work ethic. However, we felt saddened while staying with this family that the dark side of the “American Dream” was in full effect as well: an “enough is never enough” lack of contentment. Despite a large and luxurious home with empty-nest status fast-approaching, this family was building an even larger home farther from the city center. This paradox gave us much food for thought as we pedaled east towards Ohio.
Ohio
Just off Centerburg Road, in the town of Centerburg (someone seems to have figured it out!) lies the geographic center of Ohio. It was in a small wheat field adjacent to a dilapidated old church. Though still used for worship, the building’s days were numbered and no effort was apparent to slow its demise. Surrounding the church were weathered tombstones dating back into the mid-1800’s. The church’s restroom was a porta-potty out back, which we utilized just before a giant truck showed up to empty its contents. Back at the field, we were puzzled that the wheat had not been harvested, but simply cut and then left to rot. I gleaned a few grains from the downed heads and enjoyed a taste of Ohio, then we walked next door to meet the nearest resident.
Here we met Roger Gorsuch, a nice man with a Kermit-ish voice whose mean dogs with angry barks nearly kept us from meeting him. He was excited about our journey, and grabbed cold water bottles then hopped on his own bike (long-neglected, by the looks) to ride back to the center with us for a photo. While chatting, we learned that the owner of the field lived across the street, an elderly woman named Nina Overturf. We then headed over to Nina’s house to try and meet her.
Although we’ve mailed home our notebooks home and cannot reproduce the dialogue we jotted down, here’s what we can recall. Nina and her husband had owned and farmed all the land around her house (including the center) for decades, but as time went by they had farmed less and less while selling off most of the old plot piece by piece. Her husband had died some years ago, and her relationships with her living children were sour. Our strongest impression was that of a bitter and lonely old woman, yet even during our visit, she never turned the TV off and was constantly distracted by it. We left her home and returned to Roger’s place, where he had offered us his park-like side lot to camp on for the evening. As luck would have it, we set up that night under a Buckeye tree, with the small brown nuts surrounding our tent. Roger even brought us hot coffee in the morning!
Pennsylvania
Pennsylvania is a lovely state to tour…by motorcycle. But crossing it east-west on a bicycle was brutal. When we finally arrived in State College, where the center is located, we were ready for a rest. Fortunately on the sidewalk in front of the public library, we ran into Brian Dempsey and Lynda Bullard, a couple who crossed a busy street to ask us about our bike. They invited us to stay with them for the night in their apartment nearby. Our conversations with Brian & Lynda that night were delightful and got even better when we met their friends at a local restaurant.
The next day, we took a rest from riding and wandered around State College and the Penn State campus, enjoying lunch at a local Thai restaurant. (We don’t often get the chance to eat Thai in rural America.) The following morning, Laura and I had planned to resume biking and visit the center. However, after riding his bicycle to work at the university, Brian called to tell us it was pouring and that we were welcome to stay another day. After watching the rain fail to relent for several hours, we appreciatively agreed. Lynda then offered to give us a ride to the center in her car. After a short deliberation, including consulting a local bicycling map (STEEP hills between us and the center!) and the weather (still pouring), we agreed.
The ride to the center was lovely, with part of the route paralleling a babbling stream. However, the center was anticlimactic. Despite being a very short distance from the grounds of Rockview State Penitentiary (the one that housed death row inmates and the death chamber), the actual center was on a deforested right-of-way beneath a set of power lines on top of a hill. The fence to the land was distinctively unwelcoming (something about “no trespassing” and “violators will be prosecuted”), and Laura was uneasy. Nevertheless, we made the quick jaunt to the center and snapped our picture, Lynda waiting in the getaway vehicle. True to Pennsylvania form, attaining the center was testing—of our endurance to get there, our jackets by the rain, and our convictions by taking a car shortcut then “trespassing”. But the next day, as we rode off in glorious sunshine, we were glad that we’d pushed on and left no center unexplored.
Washington, D.C.
Though not a state, we decided to visit the geographic center of D.C. because we were there already and it was more or less on our way out of the city. Not far from NPR’s national headquarters (”We love you, All Things Considered!”) the center was in a run down neighborhood that was quickly being swallowed up by high-rise condominiums. The exact center stood in a small parking lot across the street from a small El Salvadorian lunch spot, a haircut shop (”World’s best haircuts” written with a picture of an afro-globe), and urban dollar store, and an auto repair garage. We tried out the Puerto Rican place, sharing it with the construction workers from the rising buildings. The food was decent, the prices were great, and we had fun eating at a place borne not of high culinary aspirations, but simply of a local demand (hungry construction workers) and a supply (lightning fast El Salvadorian cooks).
That’s all for tonight: more states’ stories coming soon!
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thanks for the great update! of course when its 32 degrees and raining here in okc, i’m wishing i was in hawaii!
That was a really great update. Thanks, guys!