“Let’s go to Ohio!” I say enthusiastically to bike group pals who stare back at me, perplexed. From their faces I can see this is a tough sell, an eight hour drive from the Washington DC area to a state better known for corn, chili on spaghetti and hillbilly elegies. Southwest Ohio is not often found on many travel destination lists but the stars are aligning and I believe this is Ohio’s year.
Our bike group plans several outings but this year I hope to combine our trip with the April 8, 2024 solar eclipse. Our group of 10 includes bikers of varying skill levels, from people who think nothing of weekend C&O canal rides to Pittsburgh and back, to bikers like me who idle through towns with several pit stops for antiquing and snacks. The early April timing means we may encounter a bit of slush and mud, but my bike group is tough and I hope they’ll trust me. I have a solid itinerary to bike through Native American history, past haunted hotels and a serpent swallowing the sun, all pointing us in the direction of a total solar eclipse.
My ultimate plan is to get my bike group to converge on my hometown of Greenville Ohio, population 12,715, which sits once more in the eclipse’s path of totality. It is best known as the birthplace of Annie Oakley and Lowell Thomas, but it is another native son who invites me to witness a redux of an eclipse he predicted in 1806, the Shawnee Prophet Tenskwatawa. To learn more of our spiritual host we need to hop on our bikes and ride a mere six miles from our homes in suburban Maryland to The National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC
The Prophet Tenskwatawa, by Henry Inman
There he is, eyeing us suspiciously from a stairwell in the Portrail Gallery. Born Lalawéthika, he was saddled early on with unfavorable comparisons to his handsome warrior brother, Tecumseh. He was unathletic, bad at hunting and drank to excess. His eye injury is said to be a self inflicted accident with his own arrows. After a stupendous whisky bender he collapsed and appeared dead, but while being prepped for burial he sat up and spoke of a vision from the Great Spirit who told him to clean up his act. From then on he gave up alcohol and western ways, called himself Tenskwatawa, the “Open Door,” or the Prophet, and set out with his brother to unify the native tribes against the encroaching white settlers and soldiers, aka “the children of the evil spirit.”
Also in the Portrait Gallery is the one-ton marble sculpture, “The Dying Tecumseh.” Not a single verifiable image of Tecumseh exists today so this statue is at best a metaphor for the matrydom of native peoples and at its worst, sitting as it originally did in the US capitol from 1864 to 1878, a gloaty reminder of the inevitable Manifest Destiny.
The Dying Tecumseh by Friedrich August Fedinand Pettich, in the National American Art Museum
But westward we must go, as I convince my friends to pack up their bikes and start out our journey on US route 68 through West Virginia. I suggest we break the trip in two with a stop in Marrietta Ohio, the only US town to be named in honor of Marie Antoinette. After reading the historical plaque that tells of the 1825 visit of the Marquis de Lafayette and after we check into the hotel that bears his name, we can bike along the Ohio River, then cross the Muskingum River and head into the Harmon Hill neighborhood with its historically preserved 19th century Federal and Gothic Revival homes, and indulge in some excellent carbs at Spagna’s Italian restaurant. Then we bike back to the Lafayette Hotel to see which of us lucks into a visitation from the ghost of a former general manager, an irritated man who rattles knobs and slams doors.
Day Two we combine our themes of astronomical alignment and native history with a visit to Ohio’s many prehistoric earthwork mounds. The reasons for the mounds are a mystery, part burial sites or gathering place for ceremonies. Marietta has a Great Mound, probably created by the prehistorical Adena people, now surrounded by the graves of the former Revolutionary War soldiers and families that settled here back when LaFayette came a callin’. There are hundreds of mound sites in Ohio and possibly many more that were plowed over to become corn fields. But for this solar eclipse trip it’s necessary to visit the site most likely used as a celestial calendar: The Great Serpent Mound, two hours west of Marietta, in Peebles Ohio.
Aerial view of the Great Serpent Mound. Photo Credit- http://ohiowins.com/great-serpent-mound/
The 1,300 foot long earthen coiled serpent swallowing an egg or possibly the sun, is a lovely if eerie sight, but even more impressive is learning how the curves line up with the sun and moon rises at the solstices and equinoxes, creating a wonderfully accurate lunar calendar. There will no doubt be crowds here before the solar eclipse; it fills up at every celestial event with new age tourists communing with the spirit world or with the “Ancient Aliens” fans who believe the near by meteor crater is actually a UFO landing site (and that aliens built the whole thing). Possibly also in attendance will be some of the Oklahoma Shawnee who feel responsible for protecting their ancestor’s work and who have grown weary of the party atmosphere around what they consider a sacred site. To get a feel for just how much Shawnee patience has been tested, the Columbus Dispatch reported a 2012 story of a New Age cult determined to reignite the chi of the sleeping serpent by burying homemade “orgonites” - discs made by pouring melted wax mixed with tin foil and crystals into muffin tins. No one knows how many discs they buried in the mound before they were stopped. But it is worth joining the throng, respectfully - this isn’t the Harmonic Convergence for heaven’s sake - to marvel at an ancient wonder currently under consideration to join the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites.
Our biking trip can begin a little over an hour north in Xenia Ohio where we can pick up a middle section of the state long Ohio to Erie bike trail. From here the serious members of our bike trip can either cruise 68.3 miles south to Cincinnati or the 57.9 mile northern route to Columbus Ohio. The Ohio to the Erie trail is a combination of paved, crushed stone paths and surface roads and their website includes interactive maps with trail alerts.
An alternate plan for the wimpier bike members of the group is an afternoon ride around what may be Ohio’s most adorable town, Yellow Springs, home of Antioch College, old school liberalism, head shops and some amazing restaurants like the Winds Cafe with it's impressive wine list and farm to table cuisine or Ye Olde Tavern for proper German sausages. Before or after we eat, we should lock up the bikes and head on foot down the steep paths to the Glen Helen Nature preserve to see the gorges and discuss whether or not the underground iron ore turned the titular spring yellow or orange.
photo from yellowsprings.org
But we’re still not in the path of totality yet so it’s time to pack the bikes and drive another hour west, to Darke County. In 1806 this was the western edge of American itself, part of the land lost to the Shawnee at 1795 Treaty of Greenville. When Tecumseh rode south to rally other tribes to the cause of unification, Tenskwatawa headed to Greenville to open a spiritual site for his followers. The fact that he set up camp just inside US territory was probably a distinct middle finger aimed at the powers that be and it certainly unnerved white settlers who eyed the growing throng suspiciously. Upset too was William Henry Harrison, then Governor of the Indiana Territories who felt it was high time to bust up the popularity of Tecumseh and his Prophet brother. So in April of 1806, Harrison wrote a letter to the chiefs of the neighboring Delaware tribes:
“But who is this pretended prophet who dares to speak in the name of the Great Creator? Examine him…If he is really a prophet, ask of him to cause the sun to stand still, the moon to alter it’s course, the rivers to cease to flow or the dead to rise for their graves. If he does these things, you may then believe that he has been sent from God.”
Tenskwatawa rose to the challenge and told his followers:
"Fifty days from this day there will be no cloud in the sky. Yet, when the Sun has reached its highest point, at that moment will the Great Spirit take it into her hand and hide it from us. The darkness of night will thereupon cover us and the stars will shine round about us. The birds will roost and the night creatures will awaken and stir."
Fifty days later was the total solar eclipse of June 16, 1806 and Harrison’s bit of subterfuge backfired as more tribal members aligned with Tecumseh and the Prophet.
Darke County Parks has recently completed a 15 mile Tecumseh Trail, a mixed-use hiking/biking paths winding through corn fields from Greenville to Gettysburg Ohio, so I may send my more enthusiastic bike pals out on that. Meanwhile I propose a shorter ride through this All American town. We can start at the Darke County Fair Grounds where we can pick up a picnic lunch of surprisingly good fried chicken and pickled beets and eggs, maybe a bag of frozen pea as well, at the near by IGA grocery store, then head to the Greenville City Park to see the remains of Fort Greenville, eat our lunch in the outdoor amphitheater and feed the frozen peas to the peacocks and ducks. On the way we’ll cruise down Broadway, past the statue of Annie Oakley and dozens of vibrant small businesses, coffee shops, bars and restaurants. After the park we can head to the Garst Museum to learn more about life in early Ohio and bone up on all things Annie Oakley. Hungry carnivores can then can stop by the Maid Rite for loose-beef burgers (kind of like a White Castle but also not quite), the vegetarians can enjoy egg salad and Mike Sell’s potato chips, while everyone gets a super thick milk shake. Will my East Coast friends be amazed or repulsed by Maid Rite’s “wall of gum?” We shall see.
Generations worth of gum stuck to the wall of the Maid Rite restaurant in Greenville Ohio
Then off to the Shawnee Prairie Preserve where we can come as close as possible to Tenskwatawa’s camp and soak up the spirit of the Shawnee brothers and their last ditch effort to save their land. As a direct descendant of the “children of the evil spirit,” it will be my chance to beg forgiveness and also to thank Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa for their enduring inspiration.
As for the day of the eclipse itself, I recommend everyone come out to my Mom’s house and go stand in the cornfield out back. We should have a clear view, as long as the second cloudiest state in the nation breaks with tradition and gives us a thoroughly blue sky. If we’re lucky, maybe the Prophet will ask the Great Spirit to take the sun in her hand and impress us all once again.