25 May 2000
I had planned on leaving the park at dawn so as to make up as much time as possible and to avoid dealing with people. Last night, my dad had told me of some possible routes that would take me to the I&M Canal which is one of the areas that I wanted to see. (The largest tree in Illinois is there, for one thing.) We had looked at maps and talked through the possibilities and I looked forward to that pursuit. Because of my sleeping in, I didn't actually get going until 7ish which was much later than desired. As I rode towards the exit, the park's campsite host drove up beside me in his pickup truck and asked if I had spent the night. Had I registered? No. He told me to pull up to the office so I could register after the fact. I wasn't especially pleased to have to pay $8 to sleep on a picnic table but decided to chalk it up to just another part of the trip. Of course the rest of the morning, I found several locations that would have been fine for hammocks and made great campsites (although I probably wouldn't have seen them in the dark).
Upon leaving the park, I headed northwest again since the alternative was to backtrack. The map showed a road called Thousand Dollar Road which wasn't far and headed north along the western edge of the park. It would take me to another road on the park's northern edge that I could take going east and thereby rejoin the Princeville-Jubilee Road north towards Princeville.
With this plan in mind, I started pedalling. Before getting very far, however, I encountered something that forced me to stop. Along this country road (US Highway 150, although it felt like a country road!) was a house and its surrounding property. That in itself wasn't unusual but what I found fascinating and really caught my eye as I passed was that the entrance to the property had an ornate concrete square arch overhead. It was actually quite massive and covering nearly every square inch of it were numerous colored (mostly reddish) crystalline or quartz-like stone. It was strikingly beautiful in a gothic/folkart way.
Through the arch could be seen various and assorted sculptures using the same technique; and at the end of the drive was a multi-tiered mound holding stones of different sizes and shapes encased in the reddish rocks. I started madly photographing everything and took nearly a roll's worth of pictures before someone drove up the driveway. Waving him down, I asked about the origins of the amazing structures. Apparently it was built by a man many years before in memory of his wife after she died prematurely. After taking more pictures, I left in wonder at a man's love for a woman that would drive him to create such an intricate memorial to her.
Finally I reached Thousand Dollar Road which did not look like a promising prospect. Yet another gravel road, its name possibly reflected the monetary investment it had been given. I hated the idea of attempting it, but the next road that would take me north was quite a ways down and the map showed this one as going through to take me exactly where I wanted to be - so I took it. Fortunately it remained a gravel road and did not turn to sand. Unfortunately it didn't turn to anything - about halfway into it, the road came to a dead end with a bunch of trees and overgrown bushes. Nothing. Not even a path to walk on. So I turned around to once again retrace my course. Maybe they had needed more than a $1000 to finish it...
Back on pavement, I resumed my northwesterly course to the next through road which really did go through. Eventually, I managed to get onto the Brimfield-Jubilee east to the Princevill-Jubilee. Halfway to the P-J, I saw the northern stretch of the Thousand Dollar Road. "Dead End", the sign said! No kidding... At least I was finally back on track and weather was lovely. The road was straight but very hilly. It was windy but fortunately the forested areas on each side of me deflected most of it and I made good time. At P-J, I turned north and eventually arrived in Princeville.
Out of Princeville was a bike trail (Rock Island Bike Trail) that had been a railroad line at one time. A Rails to Trails type program converted it to a wonderful and scenic path. I was able to cruise along at a good speed to Wyoming IL where it veered northwest to Toulon. This leg became one of the highlights of the trip for sure and was a nice change from some of the setbacks earlier experienced.
As I was evaluating my course from Wyoming, an old gentleman came up to me on his bike as he prepared to end his ride and load it into his truck. He asked about my course and I told of my intention to go to the I&M Canal. He pointed me in the right direction and gave me his opinion as a fellow cyclist of the best way to go. He had a high opinion of the Canal and wished me luck. I left him to go west on Illinois Highway 17. A very stiff tail wind ensured good time until I started heading north to Buda. The tail wind became a crosswind that fought me every foot of the way. Back into farmland meant that there were no trees for shelter. Passing vehicles made it especially difficult. Those passing in my direction pulled me into the road when the backwash of wind following them sucked at me as it went by. Those passing the other way were worse. When their backwash hit me, I was shoved back and towards the shoulder (which didn't really exist) like riding into an elastic wall. The only respite was that at the top of one particularly steep hill was a rest area with trees and a historical bridge that had been placed there as a memorial-type display. I couldn't help but think, as I sat under a tree and recuperated, of Christian in his journey to the Celestial City. As he traveled up the Hill of Difficulty, he encountered an Arbor placed there by the Lord to refresh weary pilgrims. It was a comforting thought but the lesson of the story was to not forget the journey and stay overlong. So I continued...
Nearing Buda, I was hit with a blast of wind that knocked me down off the road. That certainly marked the lowest point of the trip so far. A fierce wind that defied me to right my bike. No posts or trees in sight to allow for stability. No one stopping to see about my condition or aid me. I was very upset and frustrated. After a couple of unsuccessful tries to get the bike upright, I was forced to detach BOB. That was enough to allow me to right it and reattach those things which had fallen off. Then, precariously, I reset BOB into place while trying to maintain control of the unsteady bike. After much work, I accomplished it and wearily resumed my course.
From Buda, I decided to head east as my knees were aching from the strain of the previous couple of hours. That gave me the much desired tailwind and I was able to cruise along at top speed - even going up hills in high gear. On downhills, I must have reached nearly 30mph. At about 4:30, I arrived in Tiskilwa and called mum in order to give myself an excuse for a break.
Beginning again, I was able to get onto a road following the Hennepin Canal. Still heading east, my time was good although now I was in trees (river bottom land) which reduced the tailwind effect. It was a very attractive route: flat, forested, and bike friendly. I reached Route 29 without incident and headed to Bureau. A bridge undergoing construction work and reduced to a single lane brought back some memories! Here the road got very steep as it left the bottomlands and I had to fight for every inch of travel. Through Depue I went and on to Spring Valley.
At 7pm, I called my parents again from a fast food restaurant just inside of town. I was absolutely exhausted and began re-evaluating my plans for the trip. My belief is that a good traveler knows when to be flexible and change plans and when to plow on through. I told my parents that based upon my progress thus far and my emotional and physical state, I was probably going to skip the I&M Canal and head north again - straight to Wisconsin. Pop told me that storms were forecasted for the next few days which affirmed that getting as far north as I could as soon as I could would be wise. After talking to them, I called Suzie again and got the address and phone number of her mother (Connie) in Janesville where I hoped to be in two days. I then ate and vegged for a bit. At one point, a couple pulled up by my rig after going through the drivethrough and ate their meal. The guy got out afterwards and we talked for a bit. Kind of a weatherbeaten man with a limp and a cane. He had once been a trucker and also enjoyed motorcycles so we spoke of long distance travel and various things. I think that he would have offered me a place to stay but he lived in Depue which was out of my way. Eventually they left, and when it got dark, I headed to the edge of town where I had seen a cemetery in a somewhat secluded locale. After scoping it out, I settled on a spot at the edge where a dip in the ground shielded me from passersby. It was muggy enough that a few mosquitos were out. I wrapped myself in my tarp after preparing the bike for the night (covering all reflectors, locking it up but in such a way that if necessary a relatively quick getaway would be possible). It was about 10. Around 3am, I awakened to what sounded like the beginnings of dripping overhead in the trees. I packed up and left. Not only because of the lack of shelter, but I was chilly and didn't want to unload my sleeping bag in a potentially unsafe area. About a mile away, I found a church building (St. Andrew's) that had a rock area behind it which stored up some heat from the day before. I stretched out there on top of the rocks and slept until dawn.
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