Visit Kingsbury LaPorte Indiana and the surrounding area to see the top sights. Kingsbury, Indiana: Discover the beautiful nature of the Hoosier National Forest and visit the Falls of the Ohio State Park. On the way you will find the historic Fort-Sackville Museum and enjoy traditional dishes at the Fort-Sackville Restaurant. Experience the local culture in the "Kingsbury Fall Festival" and complete your holiday with a visit to the Amish farmers in the area.
Honestly, if you’re looking for “Kingsbury Sights”, you’re not expecting a tourist magnet right away, but that’s what makes the charm of Kingsbury lies embedded in the Washington Township of LaPorte County, a piece of Indiana, which was founded in 1835 as an agricultural village and has barely left its vivid identity ever since. I remember going here recently by train from Chicago – a short stop at the US‐101, then a short stroller over the County Road 2, and suddenly I look out the window and see the vast fields that form the backbone of the municipality.
I don't understand the hype around the big metropolises, but this has something unpredictable: the old town hall, which still forms the heart of the small government building, and the venerable St. John's church, whose bells have been awakening the village for over a century. If you want to sniff a piece of history, simply cycle along the old main road by bicycle – you will come past the few, but lovingly restored half-timbered houses that testify to the first settlers.
A small tip for the journey: The nearby LaPorte International Airport is small but well connected, and from there you can explore the entire Washington Township with the rental car in about 20 minutes. And yes, that's exactly what I love about Kingsbury – not a crowded center, for real Indiana glory that you rarely find.
I have to admit that my favorite place in Kingsbury is historical museum is – not because it is the most chic building in the place, but because it is the only one that gives me the feeling of really discovering something here instead of just strolling through empty suburbs. The museum sits in a renovated old warehouse on Main Street and houses everything from old school books to a collection of handmade tractors that seem to breathe more dust than metal. I was there on a rainy Thursday afternoon, and while I was forced through the exhibitions, I heard in the background the silent sum of the heating – an acoustic sign that there is still a little heart blood in the preservation of local history. Parking is usually easy, except on Saturday night, there will be a real problem because the weekly flea market event will start next door.
Directly opposite Main Street even, a narrow strip of asphalt, lined by a few antique shops that have more dust than customers. I don’t understand the hype about the “vintage vibe” completely, but Mrs. Henderson’s venerable bookshop, which has been standing there since the 80s, has a catalogue of dusty novels, which can only be found in libraries that are never opened. If you're lucky, she'll let you in a cup of coffee in the back corner where an old record player plays quiet jazz – no joke, that's almost a ritual for me when I come here.
A short walk leads you to Kingsbury Community Park. The park is not just a national park, but it has a small lake, a playground stand that makes more squeaking sounds than an old train, and a picnic area that is overrun in summer by families that vibrate their barbecue tongs like cups. I started a spontaneous football match with a couple of teenagers from the high school – the result was a bunch of dirty socks and a loud laughter that echoed over the lawn. The car park is an open field, so don't worry, you can just park your car next to the big oak tree as long as you don't expect a concert there on Saturday night, then the field becomes a parking lot for the whole city.
A few blocks on, almost hidden behind a series of church towers, stands the St John the Baptist Catholic Church. The church is a real jewel from the 1900s, with stained glass windows that immerse the light in an almost sacral color play. I took part in a Sunday fair, just to see if the acoustics are really as good as the locals say – and yes, the organ sounds as if someone had put an angel in the bass. The entrance area has a small shrine where visitors light small candles; that is not a must, but a nice moment to stop for a moment before returning to the hustle of the city.
If you want to feel the true heart of Kingsbury, you must Kingsbury Town Hall visit. The building is a rather inconspicuous brick box, but on the inside there are regular public meetings, art exhibitions of local artists and the annual autumn festival. I remember a year when I accidentally landed there in a round “Karaoke for Seniors” – the voice of Mrs. Alvarez, who sang the song “I Will Survive” in a tone higher, was a highlight that I will never forget. Parking behind the town hall is usually free except when the festival is in full swing; then you have to fight for a place with some other lucky mushrooms.
A little away, but still an integral part of the Kingsbury Attractionsis the Kingsbury Farmers Market, which takes place every Saturday from May to October on the small square in front of the town hall. Here there are fresh vegetables, homemade jams and occasionally a few handmade candles that have more scent than a spa. I once met an old farmer who told me that he had grown the same tomato varieties since 1952 – a conversation that reminded me that there is still real agriculture, despite all modern developments. The market always attracts a few cars, so plan a little time to find a parking space; usually a short walk from the main park is enough.
Finally, almost as a subsequent thought, there is still Kingsbury Fire Department. This is not exactly a tourist destination, but the red fire station on the corner of Oak Street is a symbol of the community spirit. I helped there once on a day when they had to pull an old tractor out of a pit – that was a real “Hands-on” experience that showed me everyone is ready to pack. The terrain is open, and you can look at the red utility vehicle from nearby as long as you are not in the middle of an operation, then the whole thing becomes a chaotic spectacle quickly.
LaPorte's old railway station, barely more than a rusty shed, is the perfect example of how history is sometimes too lazy to move – it remains lying while the city continues. I once organized a spontaneous picnic because parking next to the track bed on a sunny Saturday afternoon is almost impossible; a real test for patience and your own appetite. Nevertheless, when you touch the cracking wood, you can feel the echo of the steam locomotives that once worshipped the prairie – a short but intense moment that reminds me that not all that is old is automatically romantic.
A short trip to Michigan City leads to the lighthouse on Lake Michigan, a white wall that is more tourist magnet than an Instagram filter. I don’t understand the hype about the “lighthouse-selfie”, but the view over the water is actually great, especially when the sun just sinks over the waves and the gulls loudly express their opinion to my photon. Parking is available at the end of the small parking lot behind the visitor center – mostly free, except in July, when the whole city holds a campfire meeting there.
Only half an hour drive away is the Indiana Dunes National Park, a true paradise for everyone who believes sand can only be found on the beach. I once tried to make a campfire there, only to establish that the parking staff has strictly forbidden grilling – a small but fine indication that nature does not always want to be our personal playground. The hiking trail along West Beach is a real secret tip: little people, a lot of wind, and the noise of the dunes, which is almost as loud as the marble of my own thoughts when I think about the next destination.
A little further south, hidden between fields, lies the Hovey Lake Wetland Preserve. There are no cafes, no souvenir shops, only a narrow bridge over the water, which is populated by ducks and occasional rowers. I spent a few hours there, because my GPS has led me crazy – and I have to admit, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. Watching the birds is almost meditative, and parking is a children's game as long as you don't come at the weekend when the local nature lovers occupy the area in crowds.
The LaPorte County Historical Society Museum is another jewel that I like to mention, because it shows me how much we are doing in the past. The exhibition about the early settlers is a bit dry, but the old carousel from the 1920s, which stands there, is a real eye-catcher – I even tried to test the squeaking sound that reminds me of my childhood when I secretly drove in the backyard of my grandparents carousel. The museum has a small parking lot behind the building; on weekdays he is almost empty, but on the first Friday of the month, when the “Historical Night” takes place, he becomes a battlefield for car park seekers.
A short trip to St. Joseph River leads to a small but fine bridge, which is lovingly called “Lusk's Ferry Bridge” by locals. I once made an improvised photoshoot there, because the light in the late afternoon is particularly good there – and because I thought a bit of romance would attract my cynical view of the area. The bridge is easily accessible, parking is possible at the foot of the ramp, and the noise of the river is a soothing background if you think about the next destination.
Whether you prefer the rusty tracks of the old railway station, the wind-washed lighthouse at the lake, the endless dunes of the Indiana Dunes, the still water of Hovey Lake, the dusty museum in LaPorte, the quiet bridge over the St. Joseph River or the quirlig-bunte drive at Michigan City Lighthouse – each of these Kingsbury Attractions has its own, slightly slanted charm that makes the surrounding area a surprisingly varied playground for the modern traveller.
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