I can’t say I’d been looking forward to the trip, but I had
been planning it for some time. Last year I wanted to make a trip along the
Illinois River. Well, I wanted to make that trip and then a trip up the
Mississippi to the Twin Cities. The rivers carve out a valley in-between the
bluffs and I find the terrain very therapeutic. Still, there is yet another
huge project at work and I’d be leaving in the middle of that to take this
trip. It isn’t that I feel bad because the corporation gives me paid time off
and if I don’t use it, I’d be stuck taking it in January or just losing it. I’m
not the one that schedules it in the middle of the summer either.
So I was off. Right away, I should have seen the signs that
this wasn’t going to turn out the way I had planned. I got on IL64 and somehow
fell in behind a truck that was hauling or had hauled manure. Since that is the
best road west for me, I figured that I’d get an opportunity to pass him. No
such luck, for this was a work day, and I was going against all the people
coming in for work. I was stuck, at least until Sycamore was in the rear-view.
I kept fading back as much as I could to try and get a breath of fresh air. I
wonder if the truck-driver even noticed it anymore. At the first opportunity, I
headed south, figuring the grid system would take me straight to IL38. Nope. I
was in a grid but got on the one road that doesn’t head south all the way down.
After a bit, I did get on IL38, but I figured I lost some time, not that I was
in a hurry.
On the normal way down along the Illinois, on IL29, I
decided to take a side road to see Depue. I’ve been on that road several times
and never took a look at the town off the road. I was rewarded by a villiage,
probably not long for this world, with a railroad depot (closed) and two
engines for the Illinois RR tooling around. I wandered around and took a few
pictures. I also stopped by Bureau Junction rededicating myself to start that
bicycle ride along the canal.
Then the adventure began. As I was heading past Joliet, I
passed a road up the bluff and on the top was a totem pole. In keeping with my
desire to see interesting things, I turned around and headed up the hill. It
wasn’t too bad, but it did have a steep switchback and I must admit that I had
never tried to negotiate that kind of thing with the bike. There was an SUV
headed down right at the time I arrived at the switchback and I had to slow to
let it pass. Unfortunately, I was in second instead of my expected first and
the motor started to sputter. I gave it a little more gas hoping to tease it
into keep going. It stalled. I started to drift back and while I hit the brakes
and put my foot down to steady the bike, my foot hit nothing and over I went
into the ditch. It was pretty quick. I honestly had only a few thoughts. My
head hit the other side of the concrete ditch and I was very thankful that I
had a helmet on. As I scrambled out from under the bike, I took inventory. I
wasn’t hurt. I looked back down the road to see the SUV that was coming down
stop and then continue on. I can’t say I can blame. I’m a biker. Who the hell
knows what kind of disposition I might have been in? I looked at the bike as it
sat horizontally in the ditch. I was reminded about people as they mention
their father passing, how someone so powerful and strong was now so frail and
weak in their death bed. I looked at the bike the same way. It was a great
machine, and now how am I going to get this hunk of metal out of a ditch, on a
hill? I set my helmet down on the inside hill and it promptly began to roll
down the ditch too. I must have been a sight running down the ditch trying to
retrieve the helmet before it became too battered to use.
After a few people stopped asking if I was alright and if I
needed to call someone, “I’m fine. I’ll call someone when I get my wits back,
thank you.” I started to strip the bike of what I could to try and make it
lighter. The saddle bag that the bike was resting on was going to be a
challenge. I was trying to lift the back of the bike and turn the key to
disengage it from the frame. A wonderful woman stopped and got out and asked if
she could help. I was frustrated and she and I did get the bag off, but the
contents were trying their best to come out of it. With the bags off, I grabbed
hold of the handle bars and told her that it was very top heavy so this
wouldn’t be easy. I think I pulled every muscle I had in my arms getting the
bike upright. I thanked her and while she stood there, I made sure the bike
would start, as I needed it to run to get it out of the ditch. A guy driving a
septic truck stopped and I told him that I needed to maneuver the bike
backwards down the ditch until I could get to a place that I could drive out.
Another man stepped out of a jeep as he was told someone was stuck on the hill
and needed help. As I sat on the bike, they lifted the back end of the bike so
I could get down to a culvert where they backed the bike and I could get out of
the ditch. I was dubious as the slope was such that I had to get speed up to
make it out and my feet would have to leave the ground. I had only about a foot
of slope to climb, but I was still nervous about letting the bike fall again,
this time with me on it and no saddlebags to protect my legs. Still, a sort
burst of the gas, and I was out. I was still shaken and the guy with the jeep
invited me up to his house so I could gather my nerves.
At his house, I tried to get a signal to call Tracy and let
her know what happened. The damage on the bike was mostly scratches and the cap
on the end of the handlebars was off slightly. I figured a few whacks with the
hammer could set that right. I told her that I was cancelling and heading home.
I honestly didn’t know if the bike was screwed up or not. I purposefully got
this bike because it could be beaten up and abused. I didn’t want a bike just to look pretty and
if it got scratched and dented, it really didn’t matter to me. My bikes and
cars are just stuff, and I’m not defined by my stuff. Tracy told me to keep
going if I could, to get my confidence back. I kind of wondered at that
statement. I didn’t feel any less confident. I’ve been falling off bikes since
I was 3. My only concern with the motorcycle is that I didn’t want to do it at
speed. This had made the third time I fell on this bike, all from very slow
speed or a stop. Pfft. As long as the bike was OK and I wasn’t bleeding, I was
good.
I headed back on the road and wandered my way down the
Illinois. One thing of note happened before arriving into Joliet was a flock of
pelicans that were overhead. They formed into a V and then it broke up and then
other Vs were formed all while moving in circles. It was a fantastic sight.
Riding down in the valley and with the bluffs on one side of me made me feel
like I was in a different place. I was reminded of riding on US89 in Utah with
hugging one side of the valley with mountains or hills on the side. It was a
beautiful ride.
The part of the ride that I wanted to take was now ahead of
me. South of I-72, the fields would give way to forest, ivy covered forest. I
felt completely removed from the Illinois that I dealt with day to day. I
passed by a lovely little power-plant, a beached riverboat, and some quaint
little towns that tried to get tourists to spend their dollars there. The last
time I was through this section of the state, I was coming north and I liked
the different perspective. I went down to Brussels and was met with the
juxtaposition of corn-fields and cliffs. One outcropping reminded me of Squaw
Peak in Provo and I attempted to get the corn and the cliff together. I
couldn’t do it well as there were powerlines along the way and it was getting
difficult to get on and off the bike. I had stiffened up since my fall and the
drugs made the pain less, but the leg was getting awkward. As I drove on
through the area, I noticed that each little puddle or pond had an egret, a
bird that I’m very fond of. I wish I could have stopped and taken a picture of
each one, but experience has shown me that a camera phone just doesn’t do it
justice.
The trip across the Illinois on the ferry was uneventful,
and I did have a front seat view. I was reminded of a book that I read from
Neil Peart when he was taking his epic ride around North America. He was riding
on a ferry and took his helmet off and worried that people would recognize him.
He usually travels under a legal alias. I had no such worries and the biker
that entered the ferry with me let me know that accidents happen and I
shouldn’t feel that bad about falling.
I got to Pere Marquette in short order, looking forward to
getting the tent up, a shower and rested for my exploring the next day. I found
a spot (I was the only one in the whole place tent-camping) and got out my
brand new tent. I spread the contents and realized….hmmm, no tent-poles. DAMN
IT! NO TENT POLES! No cell signal to call Tracy so she could find me a place to
stay….I have to get on that bike again and ride down to St. Louis, most likely.
AUGGH!
If you have never been down along the Illinios and
Mississippi confluence, I highly recommend it. It is beautiful. Absolutely
beautiful. Coming up the river was some piece of equipment on a barge that I
couldn’t identify. It looked like a turbine and rocket booster, combined. I
wish I could have stopped for a picture. I did get to Alton, IL and called
Tracy to help me find a place to stay. The place chosen was just off where I
spent much of my time last time I was down here, right on Route 66. It wasn’t a
place to write home about, but it had a clean bed and a shower. I hobbled
across the street a few times for soda runs because I needed fluids, and not
the warm water I brought with me.
The next morning, I rode down to Walmart to find chain-lube.
I was worried that I drove 400 miles the previous day and all I could envision
is the chain getting red-hot and breaking on the long, highway-speed trip home.
No luck finding what I wanted there. Well, off I go anyway. I stopped at the Walmart at Litchfield and
found the lube I wanted. It probably wasn’t needed, but I always fear my chain
breaking. By the time I got to Bloomington, I was hurrying to beat some weather
moving in. My last trip home from St. Louis also featured that exciting task. That
time I got soaked by a cold rain and worried about hypothermia. I didn’t want
that to happen again. Just south of Peru-LaSalle, I stopped at a small park to
rest my eyes. There are times I get tired and restless and I found that if I
could just close my eyes long enough for me to hit REM sleep, I’m good to go
again. I wonder if anyone else has to do that while driving? Anyway, I reached
home safe and sound.
Not bad for a few days off. I’m still stiff and my right
side is still sore. I hope that will go away in a few days.
