Honestly, when I think of Freetown, I immediately jump the picture of a small but stubborn community from the early 19th. century in the sense that developed around the railway line and today still breathes the flair of a forgotten era. The village is located in the Pershing Township, Jackson County, and was officially founded in 1859 â a date that I repeatedly draw as proof that not only âsomewhereâ has happened here, but history has been written, even though it is rather silently heard in front of itself.
I don't understand the hype around the big metropolises, but the rest here is really great, especially when you arrive after a long road trip over State Road 58 and suddenly hear the noise of the fields instead of the city noise. The next major railway station is in Seymour, and yes, the bus to Indianapolis is just a few times a day â this is practical if you want to connect the charm of the land life with a short trip to the city. And right here, between the old barns and the few but well-preserved shops, I find my favorite places that I like to sign as âFreetown Sightsâ because they tell more about the real Indiana than any tourist book.
So if you want to feel the authentic heart of Pershing Township, grab a car, follow the signs to Jackson County and let yourself be surprised by the quiet, slightly cynical beauty of this place â I promise you won't be disappointed.
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To find the exact point where the sun disappears behind the skyline, use the azimuth display on poi-travel.de. In Freetown, the sun travels further northwest below the horizon in summer, while in winter it takes a more southwesterly angle. With the embedded line on the map, you can determine your tripod position down to the metre.
The first stop I couldn't miss was that Hoosier National Forest â a forest that has more stories to tell than you could read in a whole day. I drove the Trail-of-Tears-Scenic-Byway, which winds through the hills like a tough gum, and thought: âNo wonder that the air is so fresh here when you leave the city noise behind.â The parking lot at the visitor center is usually a Klacks, as long as you don't come on Saturday night â then this becomes a real patience game. I remember standing for a short walk on a small brook that was so clear that I almost sought my mirror image in it, just to realize that I looked more like a confused tourist.
Only half an hour to the north Muscatuck National Wildlife Refuge, a paradise for birdwatchers and for those who like to whisk in the mud without paying a ticket. The wooden ridge, which leads over the swamp area, is a bit shaky, but that makes the charm â I almost lost the balance as a curious rower greeted me with a loud âQuak!â. Parking is almost always a children's game, except when the hunting team from the neighboring village touches; then you have to walk a few meters further along the road to find a free place.
A bit further south, almost like a secret retreat, lies Patoka Lake. The water glitters in sunlight, and the marina area is a pool for anglers, boaters and the one or the other group that tries to get the perfect Instagram shot. I once won a carp fishing duel with an older gentleman from the neighborhood â he claimed he had the âbig luckâ in the water, but I had the âbig luckâ to keep the Angel. Parking at the main dock is usually problem-free, but when the weather suddenly changes, the whole area turns into a mud field that even brings the most sturdy off-road cars to cry.
If you have enough of the water, the path continues to Brown County State Park, the âBergsteigerparadiesâ of Indiana. The trails here are so varied that you can easily lose the overview â a short walk can suddenly become a four-hour climbing area. I once ventured on the trail âMillerâs Woodsâ, just to see that I kept the map running around; the result was a short but intense dialogue with a friendly FĂśrster who showed me the way back to civilization. Parking is available at the entrance in abundance, as long as you do not come to the high season, then you have to take a bit of patience and maybe run a few meters further.
A short trip after Brownstown is also worth it. The city is a small museum for itself, with the imposing Jackson County Courthouse, which consists of red brick and has more character than some hip-ster cafĂŠ. I have made a tour of the historical museum that shows surprisingly well-preserved artefacts from the founding period â including an old wooden chair that was almost as comfortable as a concrete block. Parking in the city centre is almost always a Klack, as long as you are not there on Friday night after the County Fair; then it becomes a little adventure.
A last but not less important place is the Big Walnut Creek, a narrow river that stretches through the fields and provides a little adrenaline for kayaking. I once tried to master the rapids, only to find out that my paddle technique is more reminiscent of an unhappy ducking. Access to the river is free, and parking on the small wooden ridge is usually easy â unless a local angler has just set off his boat, then you have to look a few meters further.
Whether you are looking for the forest, the water, the mountains or the history, the surroundings of Freetown offer a colourful mix of experiences that you should not overlook. So, the next time he wants to spend his spare time, the Freetown Attractions they are the true heart of this region.
I have to admit that my favorite place in Freetown is not some hip Rooftop bar â this is simply not the case â but the Freetown United Methodist Church on Main Street. The old brick building with its slightly sloping tower has more character than some Instagram filters, and if you are honest, this is the place where you can feel the real heart of this tiny little town. I have seen a Sunday concert there, where the organ was so loud that the neighbors from the neighboring cafĂŠ (yes, that actually gives the âBean & Bunâ) dropped their coffee cups â a small shock, but an unforgettable moment.
Right behind the church Freetown Cemetery, a quiet, slightly weathered place that I like to name as a âhistorical open air museumâ. The tombstones tell stories about families who have lived here for generations, and I even discovered an ancient, hand-carved wooden chair that once served as a parishioner. Parking is usually easy, except on Saturday night, there will be a real problem because then the annual âFreetown Fall Festivalâ blocks the street and everyone tries to get a place for the food truck.
If you're looking for a place where you can recover from the whole âHistoryâ show, look at this Freetown Community Park on. The small playground is not equipped with the latest climbing stands, for which he has an old but well-preserved basketball basket at which I started an improvised tournament last week with a few teenagers â the result was a bunch of screaming children and a ball that repeatedly landed in the pond. The pond is not particularly deep, but it offers enough space for ducks who watch you with a bored quaken while you mample your pumice from the nearby diner (I call him lovingly âdiner on the cornerâ).
Another highlight I don't want to conceal is that Freetown Town Hall. The building is a real relic from the 1900s, complete with a sounding wooden staircase that makes a little noise every time you get up â an acoustic signal that you are currently in a time capsule. I once participated in a public meeting where the only exciting topic was whether the city should renovate the old water reservoir. Spoiler: The discussion ended in a collective chicken, but the atmosphere was kind of charming.
A bit away from the official tourist catalog, but for me a real secret tip is the Freetown Volunteer Fire Department. The guys there not only have the typical red fire trucks, but also a small museum corner, where old helmets and hose reels are exhibited. I once asked a volunteer fireman if I could hold the old hose pipe â he grinned and let me do it while he told me that the pipe was never used because the city is so peaceful that the only fire ever broke out was a barbecue.
And because I don't just want to talk about buildings, Freetown General Store which has hardly changed since the 1950s. There you get real, handwritten price tags and the best homemade applemus I've ever tried â no joke, the stuff is so good that I almost took it home as a souvenir. The shop owner, an older man with a permanent smile, likes to tell you the story of every single shelf, and if you're lucky, you'll even get a piece of cake that he offers "only for the travellers".
If you now think that all this is a bit too much nostalgia, then take a look at the Freetown Attractions â yes, this is the keyword you enter into Google if you donât know where to start. The list is short, but every point has its own little charm, and that's exactly what Freetown makes: a place where you are not overrun by crowded tourist streams, but by real people who like to show you where the best piece of cake is and why the old church tower is still a little sloping.
At the end of the day, when you find yourself in the small parking lot in front of the diner and the sun sinks slowly behind the fields, you will notice that Freetown is not just a hotspot for parties â but that is not what I'm looking for. I pack my stuff, wave to the friendly firefighter and think: âMaybe I come back sometime.â And this is actually the most beautiful conclusion I can give you â not a pompous promise, just a slightly cynical but honest indication that some places are simply better when you discover them with an eye-catcher.
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