grasses. The land was rock-strewn as if the underlying lime- stone was rising through the top layer of the soil. The only sound was the wind brushing plant against plant and the war- bling song of the meadowlark. Pulling into nearby Strong City, we found nothing but the vitals: a church, a grocery store, a hardware store and a Santa Fe Railroad depot. A few miles further south is Cottonwood Falls, the county seat. Along its brick-paved Main Street is the impos- ing Chase County Courthouse, a matron smothered in makeup compared to the plain Janes that line the business street. Camping facilities in these parts are as scarce as sushi bars, but on our maps there appeared a symbol designating camping a few miles west. We jumped onto the county road and made our way toward the Chase State Fishing Lake and Wildlife Area. We pulled onto a gravel road that wound around a hill, then traversed the edge of a small lake. Along the water’s edge we found a picnic pavilion and lakeside campsites with ample room for our truck and fifth-wheel. Even large motorhomes wouldn’t have difficulty negotiating the hills and turns. We set up and prepared dinner while a mated pair of Canada geese with their goslings made the last round of the day before disappearing from view. The evening concerto of redwing black- birds, cardinals, bullfrogs, and tree frogs ushered in the still of the night. In the morning, the drakes were out with their mates and babies, and the choir of songbirds piped a gentle wakeup call. We motored to Elmdale and Highway 150, which caught up to Highway 56, the route that we began near Kansas City. As we drove, the Flint Hill tallgrass prairie dissolved into me- dium-grass landscape near Great Bend. Checking the maps, we noticed that at the beginning of our trek near Kansas City we were at an elevation of 900 feet, and we’d reach 3,000 feet above sea level by the time we crossed the state border.
a fine repository of historic artifacts, along with a collection of vintage buildings. Along the way toward Dodge City stands Pawnee Rock State Historic Site, a mega block of Dakota sandstone where on July 8, 1846, Private Jacob Robinson wrote these impressions from atop Pawnee Rock: “Far over the plain to the north and west was one vast herd of buffalo, some in columns marching in their trails, others carelessly grazing, every acre covered until in the dim distance the prairie became one black mass extending to the horizon.” Alas, they weren’t out to play when we were there. In the 1860s, the trail ran 200 yards south of here, the halfway point to Santa Fe. Further south is Fort Larned National Historic Site, a fine national park reconstruction. Built in 1859, the federal fort stood for 19 years. An African-American regiment, nicknamed “buffalo soldiers” by the Native Americans, served here. This site and the museum are a preeminent source for infor- mation on the Santa Fe Trail. Numerous exhibits and a lecture series provide the traveler with obscure and fascinating infor- mation. A yearly rendezvous features various aspects of trail life and bus tours from the fort to Dodge City. As we approached Dodge City, we got a whiff of what drives and has driven Dodge — cattle. Hundreds of thousands of cat- tle spend their last days in and around Dodge, getting fat and making Dodge the manure capital of Kansas. Fort Dodge (circa 1865) was constructed before Dodge was incorporated as a city. It was designed to protect travelers during the Indian wars. When Dodge became a city in 1872, it was the center of the buffalo trade. A hunter could make $100 a day killing and skinning buffalo. This unregulated slaughter guaranteed the near extinction of the high plains’ most pro- ductive food source and the principle food of the native people. One hunter with three skinners could kill 3,000 animals in a month’s time. A prominent hill in the city became the first burial ground for infamous gangsters and gunmen such as Black Jack, who was shot by a gambler named Denver and buried with his boots. In all, 32 people of ill repute or folks without money or title were interred here until 1878 when they were moved to the Prairie Grove Cemetery. Today Boot Hill is more an amusement park than an au- thentic historic site. Although the faux village has a backyard cemetery with stick grave markers for Jack and the others, it’s pure theater. We camped that night on the outskirts of town. Numerous restaurants give you a place to order —what else? — beef steak. The next morning, we stopped at a historic marker desig- nating wagon ruts from the 1870s. We marveled at the open expanse of land and sky and the hardship and adventure of our brothers and sisters from another century. Next time you’re traveling through Kansas, take our lead and get off the mostly featureless interstate to discover the unexpected pleasures of the state’s blue highways and the Santa Fe Trail. For More Information Kansas Tourism Division travelks.com
The evening concerto of redwing blackbirds, cardinals, bullfrogs, and tree frogs ushered in the still of the night.
The Arkansas River takes a turn at the city of Great Bend, where we found short-lived Fort Zarah (circa 1864), now mostly gone. The remains are on private property, and appar- ently most of the fort’s sandstone blocks were recycled into town buildings. The Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad arrived in Great Bend in 1872 and pretty much ended com- merce on the old wagon thoroughfare. A couple of nice rope swings hang in the cottonwoods at the Barton County Museum, a welcome ride after a day on the road. Eva swung like a kid, and this was my chance to push m’lady to where the sun shines and robins sing. The museum is
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