Transit Hike Trip Report: Fort Wayne on the Fourth of July – Part 1

Story by Lindsay Welbers, photos by Aubrey and Lindsay Welbers

I didn’t leave the state of Illinois at all in 2020. Illinois has been a blue island in a red sea for most of my life, so after months of COVID-19 statistics showing our neighboring states weren’t taking the pandemic as seriously as Illinois was, I kept my travel limited, and in-state. I didn’t visit family for the holidays and read books about Isle Royale National Park rather than visiting it. The second I obtained my first vaccination appointment, I was eager to get out into the outdoors far away from my own urban environment.

Jefferson Park Blue Line platform

I think road trips are okay, but they aren’t my favorite. I get motion sick pretty easily, and I think driving a car is a boring, prolonged experience where I can’t even read a book or nap. So when my sister, Aubrey, suggested meeting up somewhere between my house in Chicago and hers in Cleveland, to visit for a few days, Fort Wayne floated up to the top. Her husband planned to drive to Rockford, Ill. to visit his family over the holiday weekend. Aubrey would drive with him to Fort Wayne, where he would drop her off, before continuing onto Rockford. He would then pick her up on his way back to Cleveland. I decided to take a Greyhound Bus to Fort Wayne, from my home in Chicago. Neither of us would have a car while we were in Fort Wayne.

The view from the Clinton Blue Line station.

Around 8:45 a.m. on Friday, July 2, I hoisted my 25L REI backpack over my button-down shirt, kissed my husband, scratched my dog’s ears, and walked out the front door towards the Jefferson Park Blue Line stop. Tapping my Ventra card on the turnstile, I began the first public transit leg of my adventure.

I hopped off at the Clinton stop, still as dank as always, and walked to the Greyhound Bus Station, a place I had never been. An employee pointed me to the correct door for my bus. Once boarded, I plugged my phone in, pulled my mask up, plunked my headphones in, and let my mind wander while the scenery rolled past.

Greyhound Bus, which is actually serviced by Miller Bus Lines.

From the Skyway you can get a brief glimpse of Lake Michigan, which I always try to do. Wolf Lake’s industrial landscape tells a dramatic story from a geological perspective. The bus stopped in Gary, giving me a glimpse of City Methodist Church, a stunning gothic building now in ruins and returning to nature in its own climactic way. Things get nice and agricultural east of Gary, and I spent much of my time between bus stops looking for shapes in big, fluffy cumulus clouds. What little I saw of South Bend didn’t suggest it is quite the transit utopia the current transportation secretary would have you think it is, but admittedly, I didn’t get off the bus. By the time we stopped in Elkhart to stretch our legs, the sun was high in the sky and I was glad I put on sunscreen that morning.

Hey Aubs.

The bus rolled into Fort Wayne around 4:30 p.m., a little later than scheduled, but not enough to irk me. I tucked my button-down behind the spot on my backpack where I’d clipped my bike helmet, and walked for about 10 minutes through south Downtown Fort Wayne. I rounded Parkview Field to Jefferson Avenue, I had to shield my eyes from the afternoon sun and as I walked to my Airbnb in the West Central neighborhood. My sister had arrived about 30 minutes before and we hugged for the first time since November 2019.

The river was a little high the afternoon I arrived at Promenade Park.

We first hiked up to Promenade Park, on the St. Joseph River. I learned that the residents of Fort Wayne call themselves Hoosiers and not Fort Wayniacs, but they come from every corner of the city to spend time here. It was about a 10-minute walk from our apartment to this stunning park, completed in 2019. Strolling past Adirondack chairs, we admire the beautiful native landscaping and modern sculpture. The amphitheater is elegantly designed to accommodate the river’s seasonal flooding, and everything in this park is accessible. Aubrey and I grabbed beers and pretzels from Trupple Brewing’s café in the building and enjoyed them in the beer garden. We texted an old friend, John Wagner, who lives in town about our plans to meet up the next day, before deciding to hike further into Downtown and try to find something to eat.

Bison mural at The Landing, the oldest block in the city.

We strolled past a four-story-high mural of a bison and found ourselves at The Landing. The site of the first trade houses built in Fort Wayne in the mid-1800s, it’s now a pedestrian-only street with abundant restaurants, arts spaces, and patios. The street was mostly blocked off for a live band and beer tent, so we moved on towards The Deck at the Gas House. At the corner of Superior and Clinton, the former site of a now-defunct Amtrak station, we ran into our friend John, and his wife, Dani Wagner, biking towards their favorite vegan-friendly restaurant. Fort Wayne is a denser city than you would think, and its 120 miles of bike-friendly trails mean many people own a bike and use it to get around, even if they do still rely on a car for day-to-day commuting. We finalized our plans to meet up the next day and went on our separate ways.

The view from The Deck at the Gas House.

We arrived at The Gas House, we learned that it was busy. The restaurant wait was long, so we went to the adjacent The Deck at The Gas House, where we watched kayakers paddle past while waiting for a seat to open up at the bar. The water in the river is muddy but relatively clean. European Americans founded Fort Wayne in the 17th century, in part, because it is the site where St. Joseph River, St. Mary’s River, and the Maumee River all converge. At every point in this city’s history its rivers, from trade to flood, were the main driver of change.

The Old Fort, and our pal John.

Across the river from The Deck at the Gas House is the Old Fort. The grounds are open to visitors every day with special programming occasionally. The original fort was built in 1815, less than a quarter-mile from where this replica now sits. The replica was reconstructed in the 1980s, as faithfully as possible to the original fort. Today, it’s sited on a beautiful campus adjacent to Headwaters Park. When I rolled in on my bicycle, the main fort was open and the barracks were full of soldiers in period clothes, eating sandwiches. The grounds are open at all times, but the buildings are only open during events. Admission is free but donations are welcome.

That’s me, on the bicycle.

The lands that present-day Fort Wayne sits on are the ancestral lands of the Myaamia, Kaskaskia, Kiikaapoi (Kickapoo), and Bodéwadmiakiwen (Potawami) and Peoria tribes. The Miami tribe chose this site as the location of its capital city, and called it Kekionga. It was the central meeting and trading site for many decades, hosting official tribal councils and the large meeting house. When Europeans moved in, the Miami at first benefitted from trading with them. Europeans noted that this place was a short two-mile portage from the Little River, which connected to the Mississippi. The Miami continued to live at Kekikonga through British colonialism, the French-Indian War, and the American Revolution. During the Northwest Indian Wars, the United States Army burned villages and food stores but was forced to retreat after suffering high casualties at the hands of forces led by Little Turtle. In 1794 American General Anthony Wayne led his forces of well-trained former Revolutionaries through what we know today as Northwestern Indiana. Wayne wrote to a colleague during this time that his troops were “laying waste [to] the villages and corn-fields” of fleeing Native Americans. On September 17, 1794, Wayne personally chose Kekionga as the site for a new fort, which was named for him. In a speech at the Treaty of Greenville in 1795, Little Turtle called Kekionga “that glorious gate … through which all the good words of our chiefs had to pass from the north to the south, and from the east to the west.”

To the northwest of The Deck is Headwaters Park. By 1982, flooding was becoming without question A Problem in Fort Wayne, even then-President Ronald Reagan showed up to help sandbag Downtown after flooding made national news. The Headwaters Park Flood Control Project set out to find an environmentally sound solution for what was an inevitable annual problem. Businesses were removed from the flood-prone area, in a “thumb” of the St. Mary’s River. By 1985 flood damage in the “thumb” alone was estimated at $3.9 million ($9,922,755.82 in 2021 dollars) and represented half the flood damage in Fort Wayne that year. Today, native plants and wildlife flourish here, and 600,000 people visit each year. This sort of forward-thinking project is exactly what we should replicate all over the U.S. to help curb climate change.

Veo bikes are a great and cheap way to get around Fort Wayne.

The next morning I grabbed my first Veo Bike. The local bike share program is easy to use, and scooters are more popular than bikes. Riders download the Veo app, input credit or debit card information, and scan an available, dockless, bike or scooter to unlock it. Bikes cost $1 to unlock and 5 cents per minute to ride. My longest ride was about 35 minutes and cost about $3. Scooters cost $1 to unlock and 25 cents per minute to use. End the ride by locking the bike’s rear wheel, and following logging the end in the app. Aubrey was able to bring her personal bike, so when we met up with John the next morning at the Fort Wayne Farmers Market’s, she spent a few minutes locking her bike to one of the city’s ample bike racks, but I was able to just put up a kickstand, lock its wheel, and walk away.

Collectivo Coffee and GK cherry hand pie. (If I could do it again, I wouldn’t change a thing.)

There are over 60 vendors at the Fort Wayne Farmers Market. It’s attended by thousands of people each week. It is held from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Saturdays and 3 p.m. – 7 p.m. on Wednesdays. I had a GK cherry hand pie. It was flaky, crisp, and buttery without leaving my hands feeling greasy. The cherry was bright and sweet without being cloying or saccharine. From the market, we went to Collective Coffee, which faces Headwaters Park from the southeast side of the St. Joseph river. I had a cold brew black coffee there, it was served in a pint glass and at first, I assumed it was someone else’s because the nitro process made it look like a freshly poured Guinness. I happily drank it in the bright, airy space underneath the potted tree in the converted warehouse space.

Fort Wayne Outfitters at Promenade Park. Hi John.

Feeling caffeinated and fueled, we started the big bike adventure part of our day. John Wanger, in addition to being an old friend from my hometown in Central Illinois, is currently a photographer at Fort Wayne’s NBC affiliate. This year he was nominated for an Emmy for his work reporting on the protests surrounding the murder of George Floyd at the hands of a white Minneapolis police officer. When John moved to Fort Wayne from Los Angeles he quickly realized that he loved the community, history, arts scene, trails, and transit options he found there. He graciously spent the day giving us a tour of the best Fort Wayne had to offer.

Bike racks everywhere.

First, we rode, with me trailing on my sturdy Veo, to Fort Wayne Outfitters at Promenade Park, where I rented a Scott Bike. Four hours and a bike lock cost $33. My own bike at home is a little beat up, and a bike share bike is about comparable in terms of brake responsiveness to my own bike, so I am in the habit of jamming on my bike’s brakes to get it to slow down. At first, the Scott’s sensitive disc brakes nearly sent me over the handlebars, but I managed to keep it upright.

Johnny Appleseed’s Gravesite at Johnny Appleseed Park.

From there we rode onto the River Greenway. The River Greenway is 25 miles long, and as we peddled we saw public art on a permission wall, where talented spray paint artists use the space as a rotating, self-regulating art exhibit. We also rode past Lawton Skate Park, a 20,000 square foot park where Tony Hawk once showed up, unannounced, as part of his American Wasteland Secret Skatepark Tour in 2005. The park’s flowing design gave the legendary skateboarder the chance to do tricks and stunts he wasn’t able to do anywhere else on the tour.

The final resting place of John Chapman, better known as Johnny Appleseed.

From the Rivergreenway, we hopped on the Spur Trail, a sweet, leisurely ride along the very edge of the river, which lead us to our destination, Johnny Appleseed Park. In 1845 John Chapman arrived in Fort Wayne. In his lifetime, John had already become an American legend. He was better known then, and to this day, as Johnny Appleseed. He traveled the United States planting apple tree nurseries and leaving them in the care of a neighbor who sold trees on shares. Johnny returned every year or two to tend to the nurseries, so the popular image of him planting seeds all over the continent isn’t far off. He planted 15,000 trees within the 42-acres he maintained in Fort Wayne. He was known around the city and lived here until he was 70 years old. He was buried in the cemetery on the farm of some friends, and Hoosiers have cared for his grave ever since. I wanted to visit the final resting place of this American legend.

The headstone reads “He lived for others.”

Johnny Appleseed’s Gravesite is a thoughtfully maintained plot of land, that Chapman would probably approve of. The simple grave is covered with rocks and surrounded by a short wrought-iron fence. The headstone reads “He lived for others.” The landscape is full of native plants, and decorative fruit trees, including apples and cherries. This meditative space really shows the affection Hoosiers have for this American legend.

Each fall Fort Wayne hosts the Johnny Appleseed Festival in this park, where thousands of people eat apple pies, drink cider, and celebrate the legacy of an American legend. Visitors who want to learn more about Chapman should visit the Fort Wayne History Museum, 302 E. Barry St., which has a permanent exhibit on his life, and time in the city. Today the park’s 31-acres include a campground, with key code-protected shower facilities, and Camp Canine, a members-only dog park.

Junk Ditch Brewing (good gose.)

Leaving the park, we hopped back on our bikes and took the Rivergreenway to the Junk Ditch Brewing Company, 1825 W. Main St. This James Beard-award nominated restaurant opened in 2015. Their blackberry gose is tart without hurting your cheeks, and more dry than sweet. Would recommend.

From Junk Ditch we rode on bike lanes, city streets, and sidewalks. Fort Wayne changed the law to allow cyclists to ride on sidewalks, but please be considerate of people who may be slower than you, or who have mobility concerns. While crossing a bridge over a river, with a railing to our right and traffic to our left, all three of us got off and walked our bikes to give room to a woman pushing a stroller, because anything less would be very dangerous. Please use consideration and caution while riding your bike on the sidewalk in Fort Wayne, and take bike lanes or trails whenever possible.

Even Death likes pizza.

Our next stop, we visited the Fort Wayne Museum of Art, 311 E. Main. Though these two stops were on opposite ends of the same street, the Rivergreenway remains the best way to get around Fort Wayne’s central district without your car. It’s mostly separated from traffic and the landscape and public art keep it from being boring.

Good art.

For $8 admission, we walked through eight galleries featuring works from notable African Americans, glass sculptors, historical Hoosiers, and two galleries full of works by early 19th-century artist Alphonse Mucha. This small, but dense, museum is thoughtfully laid out, with rotating exhibits from all around the world.

I learned that Minor League Baseball has $14 tickets and wine slushies, so that rules.

That night Aubs and I met up again with Dani and John and went to a TinCaps game at Parkview Field. Fort Wayne’s minor league baseball team draws a packed crowd all season long. We bought tickets 15 rows from third base for $14. The team name refers to the fabled tin pot that Johnny Appleseed was known to wear on his head as he wandered the country. Their logo is an apple wearing a cartoon tin cap. In the gift shop, I bought a t-shirt featuring a sub-brand of the logo they did, Manzanas Luchadoras. Because it is a luchador apple I mean come on. The home team lost that night, but the gameplay was taut for the last few innings.

Manzanas luchadores

Check out Part 2 here.

Eddie and the Trash Fish: Cleaning the Cuyahoga one kayak at a time.

Estimated reading time 12 minutes (2335 words)

Interview conducted and edited By Lindsay Welbers

Eddie Olschansky is the leader of a school of Trash Fishes. He spends most days kayaking the Cuyahoga in Cleveland, Ohio – pulling trash out of the river. He treats it like a job, loading his “gar-barge” with gross, wet river trash all year long. He relies on donations, and is happy to loan a vessel, a grabber and a paddle to any willing volunteer. The Cuyahoga lets out into Lake Erie, so what happens there affects the lives of the forty million people who rely on the Great Lakes, which includes me, over by Lake Michigan.

Eddie recognizes the major flaw of his project: Even if he’s out there 5 days a week, 12 months a year (and he is) more trash washes down the river every day. He’s committed to his work, because he views it as a vital way to serve his community. He’s got the support of community organizations, and with his volunteer crew, pulls bags of trash out of the river every day they can. I was lucky to speak with him about his mission, after I reached out to him via Instagram. If you support Trash Fish’s work, check out his Instagram, donate to his Venmo, and buy less stuff you don’t need. Our conversation is below. It has been edited for both clarity and brevity.

LW: Let’s start at the beginning. How did you become the Trash Fish?

EO: Well, maybe I was born in trash. …. Actually, I broke my leg. I do a lot of fishing, bike riding and hiking and I broke my leg. I was stuck in a wheelchair and crutches for a long time, with multiple surgeries and it was kind of putting a damper on my fishing. So I bought a kayak. … I got into kayaking through fishing and simultaneously, I was realizing that the amount of garbage in (the) waters that I was trying to fish was a real problem.

So in my younger days I would try to fish in the most secluded, beautiful, pristine areas that I (could). I was born here in Cleveland. I moved out to Pittsburgh for a while and the best places to fish around there are under the busiest highways and right in downtown and it was a very urbanized fishing experience that I had. And so I got to that and I was seeing that the trash was a severe problem in a lot of the places I was trying to fish. So I started, if I couldn’t catch fish, I started bringing in my net filled with garbage and that went on for a while and I started leaving the fishing rods at home and packing up my kayak as a garbage truck. A gar-barge as I call it sometimes, and so that turned into my new full-time hobby instead of fishing.

I was doing that either before or after work almost every day, either going out fishing or going out trash picking. … I gave myself a couple of days off of work and basically pretended like I was paying myself to clean up garbage for eight hours in my kayak. After seeing what I got done just in a couple of vacation days, I thought to myself “maybe I shouldn’t go back to work again.” I saved up all my little red pennies as best I could for about a year and moved back to Ohio to keep bills low and tried to make this work. I gave myself six months. That was like “I can pay for this. I don’t have to have a job for 6 months. I’ll do this … I’ll really make difference.” And by the time I was kind of thinking about going back to work members of the community were like, “No you’re not.” Like, a on a real level. At that point. I was doing it mostly in secret. You know, I’m not a big social media person. … The community wanted to get involved. I had to figure out a way to package this as a thing that other people might be interested in. So I did some research to maybe make that work and we’ve turned into Trash Fish. We’re trying to bring accessibility to the river to as many people as possible. And while we’re at it we might as well pick up some garbage.

A fluid situation

LW: We try to get a hike in once a week or so and we started picking up a bag of trash every week. It’s just it’s amazing. It’s so disgusting.

EO: Oh it sure is, you know, but like at least you can feel a little bit better about what you’ve done and the fact that you’re going to hike next time …

LW: It’s true you go back to the second time and there’s just less trash.

EO: Yeah. Well, you’re lucky because that’s not the way it works in the river. … So, on the trails or at a beach … or even on the side of the road, if the trash was there today, it was probably there two weeks ago, and it’ll probably be there in two weeks. If no one picks it up, right? So in the Cuyahoga River, it’s a very fluid situation. Every time it rains, I get a new flood of trash that comes out of the storm drains. It comes off of city streets, out of the suburbs, washes into the sewer and then eventually makes it back to the river and then specifically in our river. If someone, mostly me to be quite honest, doesn’t clean it up, it’s only got a finite amount of time before it travels all the way down river into Lake Erie.

And actually if you look on a map, the map of the Cuyahoga is basically directly in line with what we call the Crib, which is a giant orange building out in the middle of the lake that you can see from shore. That is our Municipal Water Supply pump so (the) river basically dumps directly into our drinking water supply and Lake Erie is the water supply for 11 million U.S. and Canadian residents.

A lot of people (say) “Oh save the turtles” or “save the whales” which, like, don’t get me wrong. I love turtles and wales. I am a little bit more focused on us. On the damages that this does to my human community members. So we’re doing our best to try to keep as much plastic out of my community’s drinking water as humanly possible.

Volunteers and funding

LW: I was under the impression that you are the Trash Fish. But you keep talking about we. So we tell me about we.

EO: We is important to me. We have a very small select group of … small businesses that have helped us raise some funds. They are definitively part of the Trash Fish family. My volunteers are probably ten times as important as those donations are. We’d be nowhere if the community was not involved. Like I could go back to doing this one or two days a week, but I have people from the community that are chomping at the bit to borrow my kayaks, who want to come out and get elbow deep in the garbage with me. I can’t stop those people. They’re my inspiration for when I have to go out on my own.

Winter garbage kayaking

LW: You were out there all winter long. Are there any particular challenges involved in it?

EO: The biggest thing is safety. And safety and hygiene is at the upmost, the very top of our list at Trash Fish and that doesn’t just go for my volunteers. That’s me as well. So, I had to buy some winter specific gear like a full dry suit, ‘cuz the water gets too wet for a wetsuit. So I need to be fully sealed and that’s one of the biggest things.

It goes back to the accessibility that we try to bring with Trash Fish. Kayaks are expensive, water sports is expensive, transporting your boat is expensive. So I know a lot of people can’t do that and so I went out of my way to buy seven kayaks and … and I can bring the right gear to anyone that wants to participate. So to keep myself doing it in the winter, I had to buy myself some very specific winter gear to stay safe and, we have to deal with ice on the river during the winter. So, none of my volunteers’ kayaks leave the garage during the winter. We do all of our volunteer work during the summer and, but I have the capabilities to go out there during the winter.

Where does the trash come from?

LW: So this is a big question, so I’m expecting a big answer. I’m prepared for that. Where does all the trash come from? 

EO: Where does it come from or who do I blame?

LW: I will take both answers.

EO: My best guesses (originate from the) streets around Cleveland and the suburbs. The Cuyahoga River, the last six miles of it is shipping channel … to really really large corporations. And so the last six miles of the river is more like a driveway than a working ecosystem. Before that is the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. And that is basically from Akron up to Cleveland. I think most of our trash … comes from the community around the National Park, where are they’re not the highest quality and most modern sewer systems. So every time it rains basically, we get we get human waste, both biological and trash, flowing into the river unfiltered, unregulated, unstopped. So yeah, I would say ninety nine percent of it is coming directly from the sewers. There aren’t a lot of people who are standing next to the river hucking their pop bottles and chip bags and stuff. So one of the things that really led me to realizing that was the amount of kids’ toys that I find in the river. I get balls and Nerf darts and little plastic toys that I know were not thrown in the river. They were left in someone’s front yard. It rained, the wind picked up or whatever led to those things being tragically ripped away from a child that desperately loved them and ended up in the sewer, ended up in the river. So my best guesses is that most of it comes from the suburbs of Cleveland.

So who do I blame for that? Not the people that are forced to buy plastic bottles and single use plastics. We don’t have good options outside of that and if we (do) it’s priced out of most of my community. Being sustainable is very expensive.

Do your best not to buy anything that you don’t need. Look at your grocery list, pick the thing made out of plastic that you maybe don’t need and find an alternative or stop buying them. Because the blame really falls on these massive corporations. … These plastic manufacturers that pump this stuff out for their own profit with total disregard to how it affects the environment or the wildlife. Plus those people in communities that pay for these products.

If we had better options …I hate using people’s names, but if we decided to boycott Coca-Cola and we decided that the entire country was only going to buy Coca-Cola in glass bottles, do you think Coca-Cola would go out of business? No, they would implement a packaging solution that people were okay with in the snap of a finger. They’ve already spent millions of dollars trying to develop these things because they know the chickens are coming home to roost, their time is coming to an end. It might not happen in the next 20 years, that might not happen in my lifetime, but eventually … we’re not going to have (the) option to continue to flood our environment with plastic. So they have to give us another option. …I could literally watch someone throw a fast-food bag out of the side of their car window and I would not blame them. ’Cuz realistically even if they threw it in the garbage can or they took that cup and put it in the recycling, once it’s out of your hand, there’s no guarantee that anything good is happening to it.

What can we do?

LW: What can the average person who lives anywhere in the Great Lakes region do to keep their trash from getting in their rivers?

EO: The absolute best thing that you can do – you can donate to whoever you want whether it’s your time or your voice or your money – but the best option is to look at your grocery list and start knocking stuff off of it. If you have your favorite brand of, potato chips, pop or whatever it is, find an option that doesn’t come in plastic. If you desperately need to drink your carbonated beverage, get it in something that’s not plastic. Buy it in glass bottles, find a refillery.

One of my favorite things to do just ‘cuz it makes shopping fun, I go to the refillery and fill up my soaps, right? So I use the old plastic (bottle from) my shampoo that I had years ago. And when I stopped buying it, I still use that plastic bottle to go to a refillery and fill it up with brand new (shampoo. Buying) bulk soaps, bulk anything is going to be better for waste than buying individually packaged nonsense.

The biggest thing is if you don’t need it, don’t buy it. ‘Cuz hey that helps you in the long run, you’re saving money by being sustainable, and that’s a really really increasingly hard thing to do. So many people just say it’s too expensive to live sustainably and I’m like, well nothing’s cheaper than not buying it.