I spent three days in Cincinnati with Priya, my friend Bhavana’s cousin, visiting the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, the Harriet Beecher Stowe House, and resting while it rained. I was grateful for her support. She and her daughter brought me back to Milford, where Section 3 of the Route begins on a beautiful sunny morning after the rain passed.

Her 6-year-old daughter and I rode our bikes together in the parking lot for fun. We rode in a circle, giggling and eventually found a flow, like the Ohio River. As we kept riding in a circle, I couldn’t stop thinking about how far we’ve come: we, as non-white women, could ride our bicycles free because those who came before us risked their lives and fought for equal rights.

She loves biking. We kept talking about a biking adventure with her when she grows up. I have a future biking partner in Ohio now.

After I said good-bye to them, I made it to Ripley, Ohio. I made the steep ascent to the Rev. John Rankin House on top of Liberty Hill. I took a tour to learn about the Rankin family’s role in one of the most active Underground Railroad stations during the 1840s.

Rev. John Rankin, an abolitionist and Presbyterian minister, served at Ripley’s Presbyterian Church and became an unofficial leader in the area. Rankin family (John’s wife, Jean, and their 13 children) faced many threats from both sides: those who supported and those who opposed slavery. Sometimes, children rang pots and pans at night to annoy the Rankin family. John and his wife Jean were sleep-deprived and eventually built and moved to the house on Liberty Hill overlooking the Ohio River. He assisted approximately 2,000 runaways in partnership with John Parker, another key Underground Railroad conductor in Ripley. One of the runaways John Rankin helped was Eliza, who crossed the partially-frozen Ohio River, carrying her two-year-old baby in her arms. Rankin shared this story with Harriet Beecher Stowe. Eliza’s story became the source for the real-life story that inspired the fictional character, Eliza Harris, in Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

The slave owners in Kentucky offered a $3,000 bounty on Rankin’s capture. Despite frequent attacks by armed slave owners and hunters, demanding to search for runaway enslaved people, the Rankin family never lost a fugitive or a family member. When the family was attacked, the community rallied up the hill, supporting the Rankin family.

Inside the Rankin’s daughters’ bedroom, there were dolls made for children. The tour guide mentioned that Jean made these kinds of dolls to help fugitive kids calm down. I looked at the dolls and felt pain and anger, imagining what it’s like to escape as a child from slave owners and hunters or being sold, separated from their family.

John Parker was one of these children. I visited John Parker House on the bank of the Ohio River in Ripley after John Rankin House. In his book, His Promised Land, he wrote:

The real injury was the making of a human being an animal without hope. I was sold as a child of eight, chained to an old man, walked with him from Norfolk, Virginia to Richmond, Virginia. I was brokenhearted at leaving my mother. (John P. Parker, 1835, 8 years, from His Promised Land, pages 26-27)

The paintings that illustrate his story decorated the wall of the Parker House. I learned that Parker was forced to walk from Virginia to Mobile, Alabama, where he was sold to a doctor. It is beyond my imagination as a thru-hiker how brutal a walk that was for a child: chained, without proper care, for one thousand miles! While John Rankin’s drive to be an active Underground Railroad conductor came from his strong religious belief and values, Parker’s lifelong commitment to help others to freedom and end slavery was ignited by his own incredibly hostile and heartbreaking journey as an enslaved black person.

Parker made multiple attempts to escape, but none was successful. He illegally learned to read from the doctor’s sons. When he was 18, he bought his freedom from his last ‘owner’ and moved to Ohio. When he settled in Ripley, he continued his iron foundry work during the day and helped fugitive enslaved people escape at night. He often crossed the Ohio River to bring runaways into Ohio on his boat. Parker was well-known for aiding fugitives escaping, and there was a $1000 price on his head in Kentucky. After the Civil War, he became a successful entrepreneur, earning two patents for agricultural inventions.

Both John Parker and John Rankin, along with hundreds of members in the Ripley Anti-Slavery Society, turned Ripley into one of the critical crossing points over the Ohio River for fugitive enslaved people. In His Promised Land, Parker wrote:

It was in the upper shipyard on the Red Oak Creek that the episode occurred.
The fugitive ran amongst the piles of lumber and disappeared. One of the workmen, when asked by the master if he had seen the fugitive, answered, “The Slave disappeared so quickly he must have gone on an underground railroad.”

From my own personal knowledge of the men in Cincinnati and the men of Ripley, I can say that Ripley was the real terminus of the Underground Railroad. I worked with both groups (Cincinnati and Ripley) after 1845, so I ought to know. That the town deserved its reputation is shown by the fact that it was generally known throughout Kentucky as “the hell hole of abolition.”

The work was begun by Dr. Alexander Campbell in 1805. Reverend James Gilliland came here in 1806, on account of his antislavery attitude. Reverend John Rankin was driven out of Kentucky. Reverend Jesse Lockhart of Russellville and Dr. Lester of Decatur were associates and advocates of the Ripley group. (1850 – 1865, 23 – 38 years of age, Ripley, Ohio, His Promised Land, page 87)

I was inspired. People came together for justice, putting their lives on the line, taking care of each other. They held up the values of equality, care, and humanity. They took action. I pedaled out of Ripley, eager to learn more, and affirming my commitment to continue my part in a more equal and sustainable world.

I crossed the Ohio River and arrived at Maysville, Kentucky. I continued for another hour and arrived at Maysville-Mason County Park. There wasn’t a good place to camp, and this was the only public land where I could settle in for the night. I stopped at a bathroom and saw a group of Mennonite people playing softball. Three women were watching the game nearby, and I asked their thoughts about me camping there. After talking for a little bit, Betty, one of the women, said, “You can come stay at my house.” I was astounded. I said, “What?” Betty said, “Yes, you can stay with me. I have a guest room.”

It was unbelievable. I felt relieved, knowing that I was in the incredibly caring hands and heart of Betty. The Underground Railroad conductors and Betty overlapped in my mind: this is similar to how fugitive enslaved people were taken care of by so many people they never met before. They trusted, stayed at different stations that were operated by caring people, and made their way north to freedom. I’m not an enslaved fugitive, and I would be just fine camping. At the same time, I thought my encounter with Betty brought me a deeper understanding of what it was like to receive a safe shelter in an unfamiliar place from a random person and gave more meaning to my experience on the Underground Railroad Bike Route.

The next day, Betty dropped me off at where an old slave pen used to be. The slave pen was removed from the farm and became a part of an exhibit at the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati today.

From there, I rode westward, passing the rolling hills of Kentucky countryside, crossing the Ohio River again to Madison, Indiana. Bob and Charlotte, the Warmshowers hosts, welcomed me to their sweet home overlooking the Ohio River. On my way out of town the next morning, I stopped by a historic neighborhood called Georgetown along Walnut Street where Elijah Anderson’s apartment and a historic African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church were located.

I learned that Elijah Anderson was a blacksmith and shuttled many escaping enslaved people across the Ohio River until he was arrested in Kentucky and died mysteriously in jail. The exhibit panel explained that for many freedom seekers, Madison was the first stop north of the Ohio River. Many continued the journey north. Some settled in Georgetown. Eventually, Madison had the third largest population of black people in Indiana, and as that population grew through the 1830s and 1840s, shops, churches, and homes lined Walnut Street in Georgetown. Many Underground Railroad conductors lived in the area, including Elijah Anderson. Georgetown is officially designated as an Underground Railroad site by the “Network To Freedom” program of the National Park Service.

I made it to Louisville, Kentucky, and stayed with Judy and David, parents of a friend of my friend Bhavana. Although my plans were uncertain, they welcomed me to their home, and I appreciated them very much for their easy-going vibe and flexibility.

I crossed the Ohio River back to my bike route the next day, and rode to New Albany Cultural Art Center in New Albany, Indiana. They had the exhibit called “Ordinary People, Extraordinary Courage: Men and Women of the Underground Railroad.” Through this exhibit, I met the New Albany residents from all walks of life who navigated great risk and participated in overthrowing the institution of slavery.

There was one image titled “Book of Indenture” that caught my attention more than anything else. In the drawing, a black person is presenting a piece of paper called “freedom paper” for an inspection to prove he is a free person. Free blacks had to carry this paper when they traveled to different counties or states, and be ready to present it upon request at all times. If they failed to present the paper, they faced the great risk of a fine, capture, and being sold as slaves. It reminded me of the recent intensified active enforcement for green card holders to carry their green card at all times in the United States. If you carry it always, you risk the document being lost, stolen, or destroyed, leaving vulnerable individuals defenseless. It is like asking all US citizens to carry their passport at all times. I think it is a nonsense law, only benefiting those in authority to misuse their power.

At the end of the exhibit, I watched a short film in a small theater. It said that there is a legend that a Kentucky slave owner was the first to use the term Underground Railroad. He described how quickly one of his slaves escaped from his farm, as if he stepped onto a train and disappeared into an underground tunnel. This legend is similar to what Parker described as the term’s origin in his book.

I learned that the library was celebrating the International Underground Railroad Month in September, inviting people to visit other sites along the Southeast Indiana Trails to Freedom. I was happy to know the role a library plays in showcasing such an important local history and legacies that people left behind.

In the afternoon, I rode out to Brandenburg, passing Corydon, the Indiana’s old state capitol. A mom and two kids offered to watch my bike while I ran into the local library to use the bathroom. The mom pointed to Indiana’s first capital building across the street and said that this was where the 1816 state constitution was signed, which banned slavery and involuntary servitude. I liked the messages carved on the stones. It asked: What am I leaving for those who will follow?

In Brandenburg, Donna, a Warmshowers host who lives outside of the town, picked me up and brought me to her home. She bought me food ahead of time, and I enjoyed cooking in her kitchen. She mentioned other bike routes that I may enjoy riding in the future, and I was thrilled. At the same time, I noticed that my interest has shifted since riding the UGRR Bike Route, and now I have gained more interest in riding routes that are not only adventurous but also teach me more about people’s history. Those include the Selma to Montgomery National Historic Trail and the Trail of Tears.

From Brandenburg, the bike route continued following the Ohio River to Owensboro, Kentucky. Along the way, I went in and out of Ohio, Kentucky, and Indiana. I, a non-white person, crossed these state borders without giving much thought or fear. It is not a big deal at all today, but in the past, it was. The River divided liberty and bondage. Many crossed to escape. Many remained enslaved. In the end, they all ran free like the Ohio River, thanks to those who risked their lives and fought against slavery.