Recently I went on two trips that skirted the extreme edges of human habitation in Missouri: areas where people live just this side of wilderness, with strange, transitional features. (Click photos to enlarge.)
Pasture-Hills South of Columbia
First, I hiked through hilly country south of Columbia with my friend Andrew. We weren't actually sure where the heck we were. We were looking for a decent trail to hike while driving along a highway that skirted the edge of a section of Mark Twain National Forest. Our search was made more difficult because the only sign with a map that we found had been shot through several times with a firearm, parallel to the plane of the paper, obliterating most of the map. The trail we eventually found was apparently just outside of Boone County, for after crossing this bridge (and there was some doubt as to whether it would actually support the weight of the Highlander I was driving) we were informed that Boone County was no longer responsible for the maintenance of the roads. Not that the roads encountered previously seemed much maintained, at all.
A heroic old bridge, to be sure; yet a daunting prospect to cross in a medium-sized SUV.
The creek was of a nice size--would have been nice for a canoe trip, had it not been so brutally cold.
Just over the bridge was a trail-head into the woods, which we decided to take, having no particular plan for where we were going.
This helpful sign explained who has the right-of-way on narrow wooden footbridges. Apparently horses reign supreme on this trail.
We found a very old overturned car a little off the trail. Any guesses as to the make/model?
Very suddenly, the trail opened up onto wide grassy fields on the ridges of hills. For some reason, the view made me think of Poland, or at least the things I associate with Poland, seeing as I've never been there.
There were faint trails, perhaps made by horses, through these fields. And they seemed to be used for pasture-land, as evidenced by the fresh and abundant cow pies.
Hollows packed tight with pine trees separated the grassy ridges from one another. The thick woods, as well as the ill-defined trails on the fields, caused us to get moderately lost a number of times. Eventually we found our way back to where we started.
On another trail earlier that day we found this pair of cartoonishly large holes in a living tree.
The Western Pale of Kirksville
A few days later, I took my bike out to the western outskirts of Kirksville, towards the University Farm. I would like to take this opportunity to correct the mistaken and shockingly prevalent belief held by people unfamiliar with Truman that there are cornfields on the main block of campus, which must be crossed by every Truman student on their way to class. There is indeed a farm operated by the university a mile from campus, entirely out of sight of the main campus, and agricultural science classes sometimes meet there. But there are no crops grown next to the library, forsooth and anon.
Let's start the trip on campus:
The Sunken Garden losing its leaves. Thoroughly non-agricultural green space, such as can be seen on many modern college campuses.
A brick path on campus.
Alright, westward we ride, under cloudy, dispersed daylight. Passing by several blocks of a suburban landscape such as you might find in St. Louis county (and indeed more than a few expatriates of St. Louis live in the area) we come up rather suddenly to the beginning of the transition to rural land.
A new subdivision adjacent to active fields, and then more houses west of the field. This pattern repeats a couple times until we reach the Boundary Road.
This house is one of the smallest free-standing dwellings that I've ever seen in this country. Not sure if it's currently occupied.
Houses and fields near the Boundary Road, to the west of town.
Finally we cross the Boundary Road and go up the long drive to the University Farm.
My dependable Schwinn mountain bike, which has served as my steed on many adventures and misadventures, on the gravel drive up to the University Farm. In the distance, the farm's vineyard and some of its fields.
There are several academic buildings and structures at the farm. One is the university observatory, which includes this large telescope. In the picture it's closed, but on Stargazer's Club open house nights it's crammed out the door with people and lit inside with red light (which is less harmful to night vision than white or yellow light.)
Some astronomic equipment whose function I do not know.
What looks to be a vegetable garden. In the background, the windmill.
A strange autumnal sight: dead sunflower stalks taller than me, and a cleared field.
A harvested field, covered with windfall tomatoes that were left behind. The sight of this field recalled something we learned in high school theology--that poor people known as "gleaners" would pick up unwanted crops, and that their right to do so was stated in Hebrew law.
An Angus cow, a surprisingly large animal, gives me a wary look.
I had just watched Fiddler on the Roof, so this path struck me as looking like a road on which one might find Tevye tugging his cart of milk and rambling heavenwards: "On the other hand... on the other hand..."
