Trail Stories

We are blessed to live next to the Nickel Plate Trail. We have loved the ability to walk and ride along its paths year-round. One of our most treasured memories on the trail happened ten years ago, on May 3, 2016. It had been dreary and rainy most of the day. Tim and I had just sat down to have our evening dinner when we heard our front doorbell ring.

We found a young couple pushing a stroller standing outside our front door. They were all geared up for rain, but we couldn’t imagine why they were out walking on such a wet and blustery day. They requested our approval to camp for the night in one of our barns.

Tim, Terry, Martin, and Beatrice — new friends made possible by the trail.

We could tell from their accent they were not from around here, and we were anxious to hear their story. We invited them inside and brought them to the kitchen to share our dinner. They were somewhat shy and timid at first, but slowly began to relax.

Martin and Beatrice, from Switzerland, were two friends walking across the United States on the Great American Rail-Trail — 3,700 miles from Washington D.C. to Washington State. People from all over the world come to walk or ride it every year. This was Martin’s second time making the trek; Beatrice had joined him for one month of the journey. The trail passes through Miami County on the Nickel Plate Trail. They were hauling all their gear in that baby stroller, and along the way they’d had to replace their shoes and clothing multiple times, ordering replacements and having them sent ahead for pickup as needed.

After dinner, we invited our neighbor from across the street over and we all had a wonderful evening chatting with our unexpected guests. Then we sent them upstairs for hot showers and warm, dry beds for the night.

Martin and Beatrice, rested and ready to continue their journey.

The next morning, I made breakfast for them. Before they headed back to the trail, we told them about a wonderful friend of ours — Conny Woodruff, who ran an authentic German bakery in Peru. I called Conny to ask if she’d like to meet them. They were thrilled at the chance to taste something familiar from home. They walked to Conny’s Little German Bakeshop, where she welcomed them with lunch and fresh-baked goods.

Before leaving our home, Martin shared his website documenting his journey, and we followed along throughout the rest of his trip. Months later, a thank-you note arrived in the mail — with some delicious Swiss chocolate bars tucked inside.

I’m embarrassed to admit that for the first 15 years or so, I took the Nickel Plate Trail for granted. That changed the day I met Ron Mofield.

A windstorm had taken down a bunch of trees a few days before. I was on the trail too early to see who had been clearing the mess, but it was impossible to miss the wood piling up in the Lovers Lane parking lot. I expected an official street department truck would eventually pick it up.

A couple of days later, the pile was higher — but now it had a FREE WOOD sign in front of it.

Ron just happened to be the only person in the parking lot that morning. I asked about the wood. He grinned, then told me he’d added the sign because no one was taking it. “Figured they needed permission,” he said. Plus, he needed to make room. There was a lot more they would be pulling off the trail.

“They,” I learned, was a group of volunteers with chainsaws and time.

Volunteers?

One of the tiny surprises hidden along the trail north of Lovers Lane.

At my surprised look, Ron explained that grants make rail trails possible, but there are no funds for maintenance. Those costs fall to the communities served. “It’s a lot,” he said.

Up until then, I’d imagined an army of state-paid professionals maintained the NPT. Nope — just a small group of committed volunteers. Like Ron.

We talked for 20 minutes or so. By the end, somehow, I’d even agreed to attend a monthly meeting of the Friends of the Nickel Plate. My husband and I have rarely missed one since.

The NPT is one of the best trails anywhere because of people like Ron. A lot of his work showed — from clearing log jams under the Wabash River bridge, to filling cracks, clearing downed trees and low-hanging “face slappers,” attacking the ever-present honeysuckle, and repairing damaged railings.

But Ron’s biggest contribution wasn’t maintenance. It was his genuine warmth, his huge smile, and his encouraging words for every trail user he met.

A green army man keeping watch — one of the little trail surprises that made people smile.

And if you were paying attention, you may have noticed a few surprises along the trail north of Lovers Lane. Whether Ron was responsible or not, I can’t say for sure. But I do know those tiny additions made me smile — even on the dreariest days.

Ron seemed invincible. Until he wasn’t.

To say he left big shoes to fill would be an understatement. If you’ve been on the receiving end of Ron’s wholehearted encouragement, you will miss his easy laugh and big smile. I know I do.

Another scene staged along the trail — small wonders waiting for curious eyes.

Soon, the NPT will honor Ron with a memorial at Lovers Lane, the start of his beloved “Mofield Mile.” In reality, his attentive reach stretched more than three miles — but who’s counting?

Ron didn’t just take care of the trail — he sold it. He will forever be the public face of the NPT to me.

May Ron’s dedication and unstoppable enthusiasm motivate us all.