To Eclipse and Back, Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Map

When I came back down the hill, I could already feel like I was overheating. The ambient air was already very hot, around 95 or so, and I had the unfortunate task of getting my jeans back on and putting on sturdy layers of clothes and a helmet and gloves. I was hoping that things would be okay at least until I could get the bike moving and get some air going around me.

One of the guys that had set up his telescope to track the eclipse invited me to view it but I declined. I really wanted to get on the road, as the traffic back would probably be bad, especially once I got around Carbondale. I kept going down the row of cars and people were packing up. I walked by a couple that had set up in the bed of their truck...and I couldn't find my bike. The truck that I had parked next to, the landmark I had set in my head, was no longer there. Great. I'm 300 miles from home amidst a sea of people and someone stole my ride. I slowly walked back along the line and still wasn't seeing it. Were the people in the bed north or south of where I parked? I started to panic a bit not knowing if I was truly screwed or I was overheating to the point where I couldn't think. Eventually, I moved to the other side of the line of cars and there it was. I had parked on the inside of the lane and my bike was clearly there, north of the bed people.

OK. Get this done. I packed up my towel and drank another water. I also ate an energy bar, knowing I didn't want to stop for a while once I got on the road. I got my jeans and marched resolutely towards the outhouse at the far end of the lot. I say this because I have a history with outhouses in Illinois. I mean, I try to avoid them in any case. The ones along the bike paths in the north of the state are fairly modern but some that the state maintains, well, it is a horror show. This one did not disappoint. I was immediately overtaken by the stench once I entered. I had to push down my gag reflex. I wished the state would talk to Utah and find out how their outhouses were built because this was a horrible experience. I made sure my feet were atop my shoes and I pulled my jeans up. I was struggling with them because the heat and perspiration made them hard get on, and with my desire to once again breathe fresh air, I soldiered on. I burst out of the torture and found relief once again enter my lungs. I walked back to the bike, already feeling the oppressive heat starting to close in on me.

I managed to get my jacket, boots, gloves, and helmet on but my time was growing short. I was not going to last long without getting some wind on me to cool me off. I backed the bike up, started it and departed my long-researched parking spot. The satisfaction I felt going back up the hill with acceleration was welcome. I made the miles to the freeway entrance with little on my mind but to cool off. I did have to stop at the Community of Christ church near the entrance to adjust something, I forget what. I don't know why a Mormon offshoot church was in the middle of nowhere, but I had made note of it that I could stop there for the eclipse as I was on my way to Tunnel Hill. It had plenty of shade. In any case, I entered I-24 going north with very few other cars on the road. I was hoping my quick exit from my parking would play in my favor and I'd miss the worst traffic.

Nope.

Two miles before the merge with I-57, the wall of traffic began. Now, I don't know if you know the joy of being in traffic on a motorcycle. It is great. You have to have the clutch gripped tight and release it slowly while you creep up 10 feet and pull it in again. Then there's the guy in the black car behind you that doesn't understand that you might want to just relax your hand for a bit. He wants you to close up that 10 feet in front of you because...well, he's just a jerk, isn't he? I crawled up in traffic and cursed the state's decision to allow trucks on the highway (they were banned in other states) because they really slow things up. It was also not lost on me that we haven't yet passed the Carbondale exit where things would get worse. Everyone went to Carbondale for this thing. They had some sort of event at the stadium there plus it was where the eclipse would last the longest. Well, when I arrived at the Carbondale exit, things got worse. Two more feeder lanes of traffic merged in. And don't for a minute think that the heat wasn't overcoming me. I was in high humidity, 95-degree weather standing on a paved highway with all black driving gear. I tried to keep a good attitude but before the next exit, I had to get off the road. I cut across the three lanes of traffic and slowly drove up on the shoulder. I had become the jerk on the motorcycle that people hated, but I had to get off the road.

I headed towards the Johnson City exit but it was backed up too. I parked in front of the semi that was also parked on the side of the exit, threw off my gear and found a water from my pack. It was warm, but I needed moisture. I was hitting a little bit of crazy and I needed to rest. After about 20 minutes, I put on my gear again to find something in this town to cool off. Luckily, there was a Stuckey's (Yeah, I didn't know they still existed.) and I pulled into the parking lot. There were already several other bikers parked there amongst others. I got my gear off, found my shoes and headed inside. I was planning to spend a few hours there as I think I came dangerously close to losing it there. I found the soda fountain, got a diet Dr. Pepper, 32oz, and went to the back of the shop to drink and sweat. That is one of the things I hate about myself. I sweat something horrible and I was drenched. I just needed to cool down. I went and refilled the soda and found something to eat as the thought of choking down another energy bar was making me nauseous. I got to the clerk, pointed to the drink, "Two of those and this." and had a prepackaged danish to nosh while I recovered in the parking lot.

I took off my boots and grabbed my shoes out of the sidepack. I was going to take some time to recover and I had no desire to try to hit the road again. I stood there, listening to the sounds of the backed up highway. Every once in a while, an ambulance would wind its way through traffic and go off on the exit. I ventured to guess that there were others like me who just couldn’t take the heat. Every crossroad and ramp had a policeman there directing traffic. There was also one of those cart type vehicle always moving around. I didn’t realize how well prepared the locals were until I saw this. It was an interesting activity to watch while my body cooled down and recovered from the heat.
About 20 minutes in, I heard one of the police at the ramp yell at a driver. “Pull it over now! Right here!” and gestured at a car in front of him. He repeated his command until the car pulled over to the left of the exit and came out of his car. The policeman waved his hand to the cart and the cart came over, took the man to the gas station where I was resting. I don’t know what indication there was but the policeman must have seen the indications of heat stroke and got the guy off the road. I didn’t see what else happened to the man once he entered the store.

Then a white SUV pulled up next to my motorcycle and a man my age and an older gentleman came out and chatted amongst themselves. After they went to the store and came out again, we shared some small talk and introductions. They were traveling up to Wisconsin and were caught up in the traffic and their car couldn’t take the heat. Like me, the took the shoulder until the exit. They mentioned that they had a U-Haul of theirs farther back in the traffic and that they were going to stay in Effingham that night. I told them good luck as it is quite a ways up the road and I had a suspicion that it was backed up all the way to Chicago, a 300 mile parking lot.

Eventually, another man parked to the other side of me with a Humvee. He was very vocal and chatty. He mentioned that he was there for the eclipse and actually went to the Ozzy Osbourne concert the previous day. He then proceeded to show us video of the concert while he chatted away about it. "Look how close he was to me!" He had pulled out of the traffic because his vehicle costs too much to run while not moving so he was going to sit there until it cleared. He brought out some foldup chairs and offered them to us. He looked at me and mentioned “Sitting on a bike that long can’t be good for you. You need to sit in a real chair for a bit.” It actually helped me feel more human and it was welcomed.

In all, I spent about 3 hours in that parking lot, shooting stories with these people put in this situation. At one part in my life, I would have been extremely uncomfortable, but now it was just being part of humanity and letting things be. At around 6:30, I felt I needed to get on the road. I had a long and painful ride ahead of me. I said my goodbye’s and mentioned. “I have a motorcycle. I’ll find a way.” I filled up the tank and headed east, away from the traffic jam that was I-57. I would take surface streets until I couldn’t, which looked around Effingham. There were parts of Illinois where it was hard to travel in a straight line, and it looked like there wasn’t a nice back-road from Effingham to Champaign. Until then, head to US-45 and go north.

There was some satisfaction finally being on the road again and moving at speed. Backroads were all clear, so much different than the interstate. Still, I had to stop every once in a while to look at the map on the phone. Unfortunately, 45 took a swing east and I was trying to get to it while going north at the same time as drifting east. There were obstacles, evidently, as there were no roads straight north. I came to a town called McCleansboro and had a short moment of frustration. I thought by then I would hit 45 and I was still miles off. I noticed that 242 went north and if I took that, I could eventually meet up with it to the north. So I took it. The mileage did nothing but make me more frustrated. I wanted to get on a main road eventually. I was doing nothing but feeling farther and farther from my goal. Yeah, it was kind of stupid to get upset, but it was getting dark and I realized I still had so many hours to drive. Finally, FINALLY, I met up with 45 and felt that I was going making some headway. Traffic was a little more present than the back roads. I was part of a group of 5 cars and I was the motorcycle at the tail end. At least it would keep me from speeding.

I was doing fine, thinking that I was making some headway. It was around 8:30 or 9:00pm and I came to a cross-road. US-50. I remember taking 50 in Utah when I lived there so there was some joy there, but what set me off was a sign that said, "<-- Salem".  Salem! I’ve only traveled as far north as Salem?! I’ve been going 70mph north and…Salem!? It was compounded by coming into a town and what I thought was the expressway. Good night! It’s Salem! That anger was short lived as I found out I was actually in a town called Flora. OK. I’m hungry and thirsty. I stopped in at McDonald's. I’m sure that it wasn’t normally this busy at this time on a Monday night. When I stepped into the place, I made a call to Tracy. She seemed to have her hands full with something there, but I told her “I’m in some town called Flora, Fiona, something like that.” That earned an annoyed look from the clerk. I meant no disrespect. I’m sure their town is lovely. I just didn’t know the right name of it. (I have a thing with names ever since my mission.) I did the unusual thing and ordered a Big Mac Meal. It was my only real splurge of the trip. While I sat at a dirty table, assuming that it was so busy that no sitting area cleaning could be done, a bus full of teenagers came in. OK. Eat. Get out of here. I should be in Effingham soon.

Aside from a quick duck into a shops driveway and almost getting stuck in some soft dirt, the trip was uneventful. Had the road mostly to myself….Until 37 merged with 45. 37 paralleled the expressway all the way up, and traffic came to a halt, or a slow halt. I start and stopped all the way through the twists and turns of the city of Effingham. I knew eventually I’d end up back on the highway so I have to see how much it eased up if it did. When I did find I57 again, the traffic was moving. Maybe 50MPH, but it was moving. I hopefully entered the ramp and was delighted to see traffic moving. Until it didn’t. Oh, good Lord, I’m in the same mess I was. This was a 300-mile parking lot! I traveled a few more miles until the next rest area. I pulled over when I found a spot. Not easy as the entire place was packed. I called Tracy almost desperate. I wanted to get home sometime, and at some point, I needed to get off this thing, find a way north off this road. After I hung up with her, I decided I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, so I headed back on the road, vowing to take the next exit.

But after about a mile, the traffic broke up and I was traveling 70MPH again. Thankfully, I stopped my complaining and settled in for the ride to Champaign. Traffic was on and off for some time. At Matoon, I needed to close my eyes for a moment and get some gas. I tried getting some shuteye in the parking lot of US Soy in Matoon, but the side road was annoyingly busy, and I was afraid some cop would stop and arrest me for being cagey. So instead, I went to the bathroom and got gas at the BP station and hit the road again. It was past 10, maybe 11 so I tried not to call Tracy. She didn’t need to worry about me.

To be continued...