Was it to get in a bit of training for my Alaska hike next month? Or was it to get away for a few hours from a house full of moody children, barking dogs and grumpy adults? Either way, the Steamboat Trace trail between Nebraska City and Brownville seemed exactly what I needed. Jo dropped me off at noon one day beside some deserted grain bins on the side of a lonely farm road and took my photo in case it was the last time anyone saw me. She had packed me two sandwiches, a bag of pistachios, and two water bottles.
For the next six hours I walked along some pretty wooded trails, portions of the historic Lewis and Clark trail, beside the Missouri river, through corn fields, and along swamps with all kinds of birds including a large bald eagle. I didn't see one other person in either direction till I walked back into civilization at TJ's Tavern in Brownville where the bartender asked me if I had just walked off the trail. "Do you get a lot of hikers?" I asked her, thinking that how she had reached the correct conclusion. "No. I've never seen anyone walk off that trail. But you aren't from around here" she explained.
Jo picked me up from TJ's and drove me back to Dawson. I'd say the 18 mile hike wore me out but it served it's purpose splendidly well.
For the next six hours I walked along some pretty wooded trails, portions of the historic Lewis and Clark trail, beside the Missouri river, through corn fields, and along swamps with all kinds of birds including a large bald eagle. I didn't see one other person in either direction till I walked back into civilization at TJ's Tavern in Brownville where the bartender asked me if I had just walked off the trail. "Do you get a lot of hikers?" I asked her, thinking that how she had reached the correct conclusion. "No. I've never seen anyone walk off that trail. But you aren't from around here" she explained.
Jo picked me up from TJ's and drove me back to Dawson. I'd say the 18 mile hike wore me out but it served it's purpose splendidly well.
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