It’s the kind of place where you can travel many miles in near silence as your hiking boots or bike tires move over a surface velvety smooth.
For hours your only company may be soaring hawks, vibrant songbirds and deer that bound towards horizons of double-digit miles, where lush prairie grasses and colorful wild flowers sway in the Flint Hills breeze.
Yet elsewhere on the same trail you travel beneath long tunnels of hickories, oaks and elms that mesh well overhead. You’ll cross bridges that span clear, pristine streams and travel lips of valleys steep and timbered enough to pass for the Ozarks.
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