Days 55 and 56 were spent at my parents' house. After spending much of the morning hanging out with my family, I wanted to take a ride. There are a number of bike paths that have been built in the 15 years since I lived there last. There is one that I frequently ride on that goes along side the nearby Lily Cache Creek that I used to play around. I wanted to see if there was some way to get from my parents' house to my mom's work using a route that my mom might actually be willing to ride on. The problem I found was that the individual segments of bike trail throughout the town didn't seem to connect to each other. At some point, my mom would have to cross Illinois Route 53, basically a 4-6 lane highway that runs through the east part of the village. While I had no problem taking a lane at the stop light, heading up a line of cars behind me, there is no way my mom would ever possibly cross like that. What Bolingbrook needs to do is build a bike/pedestrian overpass, but who knows if that is ever going to happen. Disappointed, I headed back home.
My mom asked where I wanted to go for dinner, and I wanted Gino's East. Their deep dish pizza is my favorite and there is nothing in New York that compares. Since my friend and training partner Lisa was in Chicago, we decided to meet at the Gino's in Wheaton, a block away from the train station. My parents and I went to see a movie then drove the little way to the Wheaton train station. During the movie, a thunderstorm had rolled through. In Wheaton, it knocked out power in a four block radius around the train station. Unfortunately, this meant the restaurant was not able to turn on their ovens. Also, there was a tornado warning in Oak Park, right where Lisa's train had come to a stop. In fact, all metra trains on that line had been brought to a stand still. After an hour and a half of waiting, the trains started moving again. Then the power came back on. By the time Lisa arrived, the restaurant was open. As it turned out, we were the first customers in and the last customers out that evening. The pizza was worth it.
Pretty much the rest of these two days were spent hanging out and eating with my family. Day 56, I didn't even really get on the bike, though I did spend a good hour cleaning and maintaining. I did, however, spend a decent amount of time in my favorite tree. There's a maple in my parents' front yard that is absolutely perfect for climbing. Five feet off the ground, the trunk breaks off into four large branches, leaving a perfect seat in the middle.
Not much else to report here, so I'll move on to the next day.
Days 55 & 56, Bolingbrook, IL
11.3 miles in 23:05 for 3394.7 miles in 276:20:21 and a high speed of 19.3 mph
Showing posts with label Week 8. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Week 8. Show all posts
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Mile 3385.4 – Return to suburbia
When I woke up, much of the tent was still damp. Piece by piece, I started pulling things out of the tent and onto the picnic table nearby. During this process, another camper, Roger, came by seeing that I had only a bike with me. We talked while I packed and ate some cold breakfast. Dan had warned me that the same weather pattern that came through last night was queuing up to hit again in the evening. Since I was going to be racing the weather’s clock, I wanted to get a quick start to the morning. So no oatmeal. Anyway, Roger and I talked for some time, telling each other stories of cycling. Always a good way to start the morning.
Walking from my tent to the bathroom I had hidden out in the night before, I didn’t see any branches downed. Other than some shallow puddles that would be gone by noon, there seemed to be no lasting effect of the heavy storms. I got on my bike and headed down 67. Just past Lake Geneva is a town called Genoa City which lies on the Wisconsin/Illinois boarder. At the line began the McHenry County Trail which would take me to the Fox River Trail and then to the Illinois Prairie Path. This presumably would get me quite close to Bolingbrook, where my parents live. But first, I need to get out of Wisconsin.
Gathered up for the morning, I started to ride south. On the highway I could see the already cleared remnants of downed branches. A few miles further south of where my tent was standing, I entered the town of Eagle. As I came in, I immediately noticed the large police presence in town. I climbed a small hill that highway 67 goes up, but was stopped near the middle of the hill by a policewoman leaning against her patrol car. Apparently, the tornado that I hid from in the bathroom with a frog had ripped through the town not five miles away.
I would again like to take a moment to thank Dan and Dave back in the lab, my personal weather team, for the heads up. I would also like to thank Hermes, protector of travelers, for diverting the worst of the storm away from me. Sorry to all the people whose homes were damaged or destroyed because of it.
The tornado had damaged around 110 houses, but there were no reported injuries. That is very good. The cop told me that there were trees and power lines down across 67 through town, and told me of an alternate way to get back to 67 around town. I took 54 to County S. On this county road there were crews clearing branches from the road and shoulders. I came to a long white fence that looked good except for the half dozen places it was broken by tree. A little way out of town I stopped in at a breakfast joint. On the tv, they were showing the live helicopter view of the wreckage. It was surprisingly close to where my insubstantial little tent was standing when the storm hit. If the storm could level houses, my tent would have been blown halfway to Ohio.
Thanks again, Hermes. I appreciate it.
Further along, I had some examples of bad shoulder to ride on. I went through the resortish town of Lake Geneva, known for quality of the lake, the good food and the Sugar Shack, a club just north of town that has two floors, one of the ladies and one for the gentlemen. If by that description, you still don’t know what goes on there, let me just say it’s a bingo hall. I passed Ryan Braun’s restaurant and a Gino’s East I never knew existed. It was not long after that I came into Genoa City and, not being a very large town, I soon got to the connection to the McHenry County Trail.
The only sign that I had just gone from one state to another was the marker for north bound travelers announcing the end of the McHenry County Prairie Trail. I was in Illinois long enough to read the sign and didn’t even know it. On the route I have chosen, it took me 270:32:25 of riding to cross into Illinois.
The top seven miles of the trail is the old railroad ballast and gravel. It was easy but slow, but in the parts between the trees, the views that opened were quite pretty. All along the trail were groups of workers removing all the fallen debris from last night’s storm. I thanked them as I rode by. I took a break at a little picnic area off the trail in the heart of Glacial Park. This used to be one of the richest waterfowl habitats in the Midwest until agriculture, houses and dams changed much of the landscape. I could make out some herons on the edge of a pond, but they were too far to come out with the camera.
Then a few miles before the town of McHenry, the trail turned paved. I picked up several miles an hour immediately. The rail bed pitch was still relatively flat, so I quickly made it through McHenry and into Crystal Lake. Coming into Crystal Lake is the one bit of this trail that is not railroad grade, as it goes through Sterne’s Woods. All of a sudden I felt like I was on a mountain bike trail in North Carolina, except it was still paved. There were several steep, close inclines that curved at the bottom, so you had to go pretty slow down or risk the blind crash around the corner. Then the woods opened up and there was a pair of hills that looked like it was originally designed for a roller coaster. A few cranks down, and I let gravity pull me to 33.8mph as I got to the bottom. You had to keep as much momentum as possible because what came next I consider an advanced hill. It isn’t expert, it’s not going to kill you, but if you try it unprepared, you’re going to be walking up to the top. After that crest there was a short dip then a turn back into the woods where the small hill with curve motif resumed.
In Algonquin, the trail crossed a street and became the Fox River Trail. Between Algonquin and Elgin, the trail ran along an active railroad track, each trying to sneak in closer to the river. At one point I was passed by a young guy in an orange shirt. At a light not too far along, I closed in on him again, then passed him when he stopped to tell a cyclist walking his bike that he wasn’t far from the bike shop. By now I was holding a steady 19mph pace, so it took him a bit to catch up with me again. When he did he asked if I was doing some sort of cross country thing. I told him about it and he said ‘That’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever heard’. We stopped and I gave him my card. Conrad is a high school sophomore that was riding a nicer bike than the one I had when I was that age. But then, I am riding a nicer one now, so I guess that’s moot. We rode together for probably 7 or 8 miles, weaving in and out of all of the other traffic on the path that was going slower than us. It doesn’t seem like it would be hard to convince him to ride across the country, though he said he’d at least wait until he had his driver’s license, just in case of emergency. Maybe next time I go across, when I’m looking for two other people to travel with… Several miles past when he would have otherwise turned around, he finally had to go back, but it was another person on the trip that I’m glad I met and got to talk to for a while. Keep riding, man.
In Elgin, I encountered a problem. There was construction ahead and a bike path detour. I rolled my eyes but accepted it. I passed a fountain made of water jets set into the ground. Dozens of children were playing in the massive public sprinkler they had set up there. At the river, people were fishing, strolling, cycling, or just sitting on a bench watching the scene.
I crossed under the highway 20 bridge and the woods started again. Not far into it, a long segment of the Fox River Trail was closed off for construction. I don’t know whose bright idea it is to close the bike path from the beginning of June to the end of July. That is possibly the worst pair of months to close a bike path, possibly behind May/June.
But right there was my connection to the Illinois Prairie Path which would send me back down into Wheaton. I was riding along and burst out of some trees when suddenly the path ended at a road that was quite clearly being constructed. I had to lift my 70lb bike up the foot thick concrete, watching out for the several inches of rebar hanging out the side. Crossing the dirt median, I had to lower then raise her again. By riding along the edge of the construction, I got onto a real road, but was told I had to detour to get to the next segment of bike path. Army Trail Road has no shoulder along here, but plenty of traffic, so it was a joy to ride along. I finally got back onto the path in Bartlett.
There was one point where the Prairie path splits off and the signage is confusing, but I managed to find the right part. That part of the patht goes south east through a forest to County Farm Road. At the end of County Farm Road in Wheaton is the high school I went to, but I did not visit it. At a stop light, the trail continued diagonally across the intersection. While a pair of girls on bikes were waiting, I crossed the direction I could. Then, as the light I needed turned green, I started and saw a young punk on a mountain bike speed past the girls and shoot across the intersection. Ok, punk, you’re on. I don’t think it even took 100 yards for me to pass him, again setting a steady 19-20 mph pace. Up to the challenge, he kept pace, steering clear of foot and bike traffic in both directions. About three miles later, the path dumped onto a road. I could hear him say ‘damn’ as we came out. I saw an orange detour sign and swore. I hadn’t been in Illinois 4 hours and I had already had it with the construction. That was what got Justin and me talking. I asked about the detour and we rode several blocks together to the Wheaton train station, where his route split off. I did not know it then, but this very corner would play a big role in my day almost exactly 24 hours later.
From there, Dan had me routed south for a while before resuming east and going through downtown Naperville. I took the more direct and difficult way home. Thus I started to piss off drivers in Wheaton and Naperville. I composed a song, ‘The Reasons I Hate Naperville’ and it was not very complimentary. One guy yelled at me to ride on the sidewalk and called me a name that I’m sure he’s been called before. I invited him to pull over so we could discuss his proposition, but he declined and the car pace was just faster than I could keep up with having already logged 100 miles on the day. It’s a shame, really. I felt like we had a lot to discuss. I was going about 20 at the time, and I want to know what part of a cyclist doing 20 miles per hour on a sidewalk sounds safe. If the counter argument is made that I should then ride slower for the pedestrians, then I suggest that he drive slower for me. That and I may have wanted to give the guy a good close look at my knee, but I digress.
Eventually, I made it back to my parents’ place. Most of the people who lived on the block from when I lived here last are gone, with the marked example of my parents’ two immediate neighbors. The three consecutive homes have housed the same families for at least 29 years. Rolling down the block, I listed off in my head as best I could remember who used to live in each house. I got to my parents’ place and there, patient as always in the front yard, is my favorite tree. It was a perfect height for climbing then, and as we have both grown a bit in the subsequent years, it is still the perfect height for me to clamor into. No trip to my parents’ is complete without a climb into the tree.
Day 54, Kettle-Moraine State Park, WI - Bolingbrook, IL
110.6 miles in 8:20:05. Now 3285.4 miles in 275:57:16 and a high speed of 33.8
Walking from my tent to the bathroom I had hidden out in the night before, I didn’t see any branches downed. Other than some shallow puddles that would be gone by noon, there seemed to be no lasting effect of the heavy storms. I got on my bike and headed down 67. Just past Lake Geneva is a town called Genoa City which lies on the Wisconsin/Illinois boarder. At the line began the McHenry County Trail which would take me to the Fox River Trail and then to the Illinois Prairie Path. This presumably would get me quite close to Bolingbrook, where my parents live. But first, I need to get out of Wisconsin.
Gathered up for the morning, I started to ride south. On the highway I could see the already cleared remnants of downed branches. A few miles further south of where my tent was standing, I entered the town of Eagle. As I came in, I immediately noticed the large police presence in town. I climbed a small hill that highway 67 goes up, but was stopped near the middle of the hill by a policewoman leaning against her patrol car. Apparently, the tornado that I hid from in the bathroom with a frog had ripped through the town not five miles away.
I would again like to take a moment to thank Dan and Dave back in the lab, my personal weather team, for the heads up. I would also like to thank Hermes, protector of travelers, for diverting the worst of the storm away from me. Sorry to all the people whose homes were damaged or destroyed because of it.
The tornado had damaged around 110 houses, but there were no reported injuries. That is very good. The cop told me that there were trees and power lines down across 67 through town, and told me of an alternate way to get back to 67 around town. I took 54 to County S. On this county road there were crews clearing branches from the road and shoulders. I came to a long white fence that looked good except for the half dozen places it was broken by tree. A little way out of town I stopped in at a breakfast joint. On the tv, they were showing the live helicopter view of the wreckage. It was surprisingly close to where my insubstantial little tent was standing when the storm hit. If the storm could level houses, my tent would have been blown halfway to Ohio.
Thanks again, Hermes. I appreciate it.
Further along, I had some examples of bad shoulder to ride on. I went through the resortish town of Lake Geneva, known for quality of the lake, the good food and the Sugar Shack, a club just north of town that has two floors, one of the ladies and one for the gentlemen. If by that description, you still don’t know what goes on there, let me just say it’s a bingo hall. I passed Ryan Braun’s restaurant and a Gino’s East I never knew existed. It was not long after that I came into Genoa City and, not being a very large town, I soon got to the connection to the McHenry County Trail.
The only sign that I had just gone from one state to another was the marker for north bound travelers announcing the end of the McHenry County Prairie Trail. I was in Illinois long enough to read the sign and didn’t even know it. On the route I have chosen, it took me 270:32:25 of riding to cross into Illinois.
The top seven miles of the trail is the old railroad ballast and gravel. It was easy but slow, but in the parts between the trees, the views that opened were quite pretty. All along the trail were groups of workers removing all the fallen debris from last night’s storm. I thanked them as I rode by. I took a break at a little picnic area off the trail in the heart of Glacial Park. This used to be one of the richest waterfowl habitats in the Midwest until agriculture, houses and dams changed much of the landscape. I could make out some herons on the edge of a pond, but they were too far to come out with the camera.
Then a few miles before the town of McHenry, the trail turned paved. I picked up several miles an hour immediately. The rail bed pitch was still relatively flat, so I quickly made it through McHenry and into Crystal Lake. Coming into Crystal Lake is the one bit of this trail that is not railroad grade, as it goes through Sterne’s Woods. All of a sudden I felt like I was on a mountain bike trail in North Carolina, except it was still paved. There were several steep, close inclines that curved at the bottom, so you had to go pretty slow down or risk the blind crash around the corner. Then the woods opened up and there was a pair of hills that looked like it was originally designed for a roller coaster. A few cranks down, and I let gravity pull me to 33.8mph as I got to the bottom. You had to keep as much momentum as possible because what came next I consider an advanced hill. It isn’t expert, it’s not going to kill you, but if you try it unprepared, you’re going to be walking up to the top. After that crest there was a short dip then a turn back into the woods where the small hill with curve motif resumed.
In Algonquin, the trail crossed a street and became the Fox River Trail. Between Algonquin and Elgin, the trail ran along an active railroad track, each trying to sneak in closer to the river. At one point I was passed by a young guy in an orange shirt. At a light not too far along, I closed in on him again, then passed him when he stopped to tell a cyclist walking his bike that he wasn’t far from the bike shop. By now I was holding a steady 19mph pace, so it took him a bit to catch up with me again. When he did he asked if I was doing some sort of cross country thing. I told him about it and he said ‘That’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever heard’. We stopped and I gave him my card. Conrad is a high school sophomore that was riding a nicer bike than the one I had when I was that age. But then, I am riding a nicer one now, so I guess that’s moot. We rode together for probably 7 or 8 miles, weaving in and out of all of the other traffic on the path that was going slower than us. It doesn’t seem like it would be hard to convince him to ride across the country, though he said he’d at least wait until he had his driver’s license, just in case of emergency. Maybe next time I go across, when I’m looking for two other people to travel with… Several miles past when he would have otherwise turned around, he finally had to go back, but it was another person on the trip that I’m glad I met and got to talk to for a while. Keep riding, man.
In Elgin, I encountered a problem. There was construction ahead and a bike path detour. I rolled my eyes but accepted it. I passed a fountain made of water jets set into the ground. Dozens of children were playing in the massive public sprinkler they had set up there. At the river, people were fishing, strolling, cycling, or just sitting on a bench watching the scene.
I crossed under the highway 20 bridge and the woods started again. Not far into it, a long segment of the Fox River Trail was closed off for construction. I don’t know whose bright idea it is to close the bike path from the beginning of June to the end of July. That is possibly the worst pair of months to close a bike path, possibly behind May/June.
But right there was my connection to the Illinois Prairie Path which would send me back down into Wheaton. I was riding along and burst out of some trees when suddenly the path ended at a road that was quite clearly being constructed. I had to lift my 70lb bike up the foot thick concrete, watching out for the several inches of rebar hanging out the side. Crossing the dirt median, I had to lower then raise her again. By riding along the edge of the construction, I got onto a real road, but was told I had to detour to get to the next segment of bike path. Army Trail Road has no shoulder along here, but plenty of traffic, so it was a joy to ride along. I finally got back onto the path in Bartlett.
There was one point where the Prairie path splits off and the signage is confusing, but I managed to find the right part. That part of the patht goes south east through a forest to County Farm Road. At the end of County Farm Road in Wheaton is the high school I went to, but I did not visit it. At a stop light, the trail continued diagonally across the intersection. While a pair of girls on bikes were waiting, I crossed the direction I could. Then, as the light I needed turned green, I started and saw a young punk on a mountain bike speed past the girls and shoot across the intersection. Ok, punk, you’re on. I don’t think it even took 100 yards for me to pass him, again setting a steady 19-20 mph pace. Up to the challenge, he kept pace, steering clear of foot and bike traffic in both directions. About three miles later, the path dumped onto a road. I could hear him say ‘damn’ as we came out. I saw an orange detour sign and swore. I hadn’t been in Illinois 4 hours and I had already had it with the construction. That was what got Justin and me talking. I asked about the detour and we rode several blocks together to the Wheaton train station, where his route split off. I did not know it then, but this very corner would play a big role in my day almost exactly 24 hours later.
From there, Dan had me routed south for a while before resuming east and going through downtown Naperville. I took the more direct and difficult way home. Thus I started to piss off drivers in Wheaton and Naperville. I composed a song, ‘The Reasons I Hate Naperville’ and it was not very complimentary. One guy yelled at me to ride on the sidewalk and called me a name that I’m sure he’s been called before. I invited him to pull over so we could discuss his proposition, but he declined and the car pace was just faster than I could keep up with having already logged 100 miles on the day. It’s a shame, really. I felt like we had a lot to discuss. I was going about 20 at the time, and I want to know what part of a cyclist doing 20 miles per hour on a sidewalk sounds safe. If the counter argument is made that I should then ride slower for the pedestrians, then I suggest that he drive slower for me. That and I may have wanted to give the guy a good close look at my knee, but I digress.
Eventually, I made it back to my parents’ place. Most of the people who lived on the block from when I lived here last are gone, with the marked example of my parents’ two immediate neighbors. The three consecutive homes have housed the same families for at least 29 years. Rolling down the block, I listed off in my head as best I could remember who used to live in each house. I got to my parents’ place and there, patient as always in the front yard, is my favorite tree. It was a perfect height for climbing then, and as we have both grown a bit in the subsequent years, it is still the perfect height for me to clamor into. No trip to my parents’ is complete without a climb into the tree.
Day 54, Kettle-Moraine State Park, WI - Bolingbrook, IL
110.6 miles in 8:20:05. Now 3285.4 miles in 275:57:16 and a high speed of 33.8
Monday, June 21, 2010
Mile 3274.8 – The adventure continues
I woke up in Fond Du Lac, well refreshed. I think not drinking the night before helped. I wanted to get to the Wild Goose State Trail, which leads from Fond Du Lac to Highway 60, just past Juneau. It was a little unclear where the trail started, but I knew I had to get to the Rolling Meadows Golf Course on the southwestern corner of the town. I crossed highway 41, then proceeded to take a slight detour to take in some of the farmland south and west of town. I did eventually make it to the golf course and found the trailhead.
Almost immediately I was thrust back into a lush green world. Much of the trail is tree-lined, sometimes to the point of being called wooded. There are breaks and patches between the trees, opening a vista of pastures and farms broken by double lines of trees. There was one camera shot I tried to take that would have been called ‘Cows, Corn, Eagle, Turbine’ but I didn’t quite manage the picture I wanted. Again, the camera is too feeble an instrument to capture the sense of everything around me. Everything was growing, from the wild tall grasses and corn well ahead of the ‘knee high by the fourth of july’ maxim to the birds growing fat on the spiders and insects buzzing around. The landscape possessed a quality lacking in the rock and snow of the mountain heights or the multi-colored sands of the desert: everywhere around there was life. Every shade of green I could imagine was present.
The trail starts southwest but nudges south around the shoulder of the Horicon National Wildlife Refuge. Wetlands now entered the scene, grassy meadows covering the hills above them studded with islands of trees. Mallards sloppily played in the water while egrets stood tall and silent at the edge of the grass. I took a break at a bench and watched a large spider explore one of Penny’s tires, only to leave it for more favorable hunting grounds. Unfortunately there were plenty of mosquitoes around and my bug spray is almost running out. I snacked on leftovers of a couple of meals from the past few days, the end of last night’s burrito being the star, then climbed onto the bike again.
The trail goes back into farmland past the end of the Horicon Marsh. My next break was in Juneau, where I asked a woman I saw on the street which of the tree bars in town I should grab a bite in. It was just one of those days where I was constantly hungry. There are about 4 miles of trail left between Juneau and highway 60. For this stretch, a group of local students have put up a scale map of our solar system, with plaques representing the distance to each planet. It really helps to visualize the great distances between the planets. I passed the first four within about half a mile, but then the distance from Mars to Jupiter was pretty long. By Saturn, I had stopped looking for the plaque and almost passed it. Pluto, of course, downgraded to a dwarf planet (it’s not Pluto’s fault there are 7 moons in our solar system larger than it) appeared at the trailhead at highway 60. I took another break there to eat a bit more.
Traffic wasn’t too bad, though I never had a shoulder wider than 4’. I turned south at highway 67 aiming for the southern campground at the Kettle Moraine State Park. I stopped for a break in Oconomowoc, one of my favorite place names in Wisconsin. Oconomowoc, Oconomowoc, Oconomowoc.
As I got to Douseman a few miles down the road, the clouds started getting thicker and the sun lowered itself to the horizon. I entered the park, and, given the looks of the clouds, opted to stop at the closer northern campground instead. I found one of the empty spots on the large grounds and paying my $14 for a non-state resident, pitched my tent. I could hear thunder cracking in the west and as I started loading panniers into the tent, the first drops of rain started falling.
Soon the thunderstorm arrived. The clouds were too thick and the aperture of my tent too narrow to see the individual bolts, but the ever-changing illumination of the trees and clouds was fantastic. It was a light show unrivaled by any technology known to Hollywood. Stage right, a flash of light so bright, you could see color in the trees around. A sizzle, then the roar of the thunder as it streaks above. Stage left, another flash, bright and sustained. A sizzle as the higher frequency waves reach first, a crack as the middle of the pack arrives, then the solid, vibrating boom of the main peal.
My phone rang. My brother sounded a little frantic. ‘Where are you?’, he asked. The Ottowa Lake Campground in Kettle Moraine. He told me there was a tornado warning for Palmyra, the town on the western edge of the park, about 5 miles away. We both quickly agreed that I should seek shelter. I pulled on my rain pants, shoes and raincoat, grabbed the flashlight, phone and a bit of food and hid out in the bathroom, the only structure around I could get into. I stood there for a while watching out the windows as the light and sound show continued. At some point, I noticed I was not alone in the bathroom. In one of the stalls a small frog was sitting on the foot pedal-operated toilet flush. I looked down at the frog, the frog looked up at me. We agreed to let the other alone, and went on enjoying our storm.
At long last, my brother called to tell me the warning had cleared. Thank you for the heads-up, personal weather team! I waited for the rain to lighten up a bit, then went back to the tent. In my haste to leave, I left the flap open a bit too far. I had zipped the mesh door all the way closed, but a turn of the wind had sent a good amount of water inside. My sleeping bag, thankfully, was just beyond the wet. I sopped up what I could with my towel, and slept through the shortest night of the year with raincoat and pants on, using the sleeping bag as a cushion.
Day 53, Fond Du Lac, WI – Kettle Moraine State Park, WI
81.9 miles in 6:43:43 for 3274.8 in 267:37:11 of wheels spinning so far and a top speed of 24.3 mph
Almost immediately I was thrust back into a lush green world. Much of the trail is tree-lined, sometimes to the point of being called wooded. There are breaks and patches between the trees, opening a vista of pastures and farms broken by double lines of trees. There was one camera shot I tried to take that would have been called ‘Cows, Corn, Eagle, Turbine’ but I didn’t quite manage the picture I wanted. Again, the camera is too feeble an instrument to capture the sense of everything around me. Everything was growing, from the wild tall grasses and corn well ahead of the ‘knee high by the fourth of july’ maxim to the birds growing fat on the spiders and insects buzzing around. The landscape possessed a quality lacking in the rock and snow of the mountain heights or the multi-colored sands of the desert: everywhere around there was life. Every shade of green I could imagine was present.
The trail starts southwest but nudges south around the shoulder of the Horicon National Wildlife Refuge. Wetlands now entered the scene, grassy meadows covering the hills above them studded with islands of trees. Mallards sloppily played in the water while egrets stood tall and silent at the edge of the grass. I took a break at a bench and watched a large spider explore one of Penny’s tires, only to leave it for more favorable hunting grounds. Unfortunately there were plenty of mosquitoes around and my bug spray is almost running out. I snacked on leftovers of a couple of meals from the past few days, the end of last night’s burrito being the star, then climbed onto the bike again.
The trail goes back into farmland past the end of the Horicon Marsh. My next break was in Juneau, where I asked a woman I saw on the street which of the tree bars in town I should grab a bite in. It was just one of those days where I was constantly hungry. There are about 4 miles of trail left between Juneau and highway 60. For this stretch, a group of local students have put up a scale map of our solar system, with plaques representing the distance to each planet. It really helps to visualize the great distances between the planets. I passed the first four within about half a mile, but then the distance from Mars to Jupiter was pretty long. By Saturn, I had stopped looking for the plaque and almost passed it. Pluto, of course, downgraded to a dwarf planet (it’s not Pluto’s fault there are 7 moons in our solar system larger than it) appeared at the trailhead at highway 60. I took another break there to eat a bit more.
Traffic wasn’t too bad, though I never had a shoulder wider than 4’. I turned south at highway 67 aiming for the southern campground at the Kettle Moraine State Park. I stopped for a break in Oconomowoc, one of my favorite place names in Wisconsin. Oconomowoc, Oconomowoc, Oconomowoc.
As I got to Douseman a few miles down the road, the clouds started getting thicker and the sun lowered itself to the horizon. I entered the park, and, given the looks of the clouds, opted to stop at the closer northern campground instead. I found one of the empty spots on the large grounds and paying my $14 for a non-state resident, pitched my tent. I could hear thunder cracking in the west and as I started loading panniers into the tent, the first drops of rain started falling.
Soon the thunderstorm arrived. The clouds were too thick and the aperture of my tent too narrow to see the individual bolts, but the ever-changing illumination of the trees and clouds was fantastic. It was a light show unrivaled by any technology known to Hollywood. Stage right, a flash of light so bright, you could see color in the trees around. A sizzle, then the roar of the thunder as it streaks above. Stage left, another flash, bright and sustained. A sizzle as the higher frequency waves reach first, a crack as the middle of the pack arrives, then the solid, vibrating boom of the main peal.
My phone rang. My brother sounded a little frantic. ‘Where are you?’, he asked. The Ottowa Lake Campground in Kettle Moraine. He told me there was a tornado warning for Palmyra, the town on the western edge of the park, about 5 miles away. We both quickly agreed that I should seek shelter. I pulled on my rain pants, shoes and raincoat, grabbed the flashlight, phone and a bit of food and hid out in the bathroom, the only structure around I could get into. I stood there for a while watching out the windows as the light and sound show continued. At some point, I noticed I was not alone in the bathroom. In one of the stalls a small frog was sitting on the foot pedal-operated toilet flush. I looked down at the frog, the frog looked up at me. We agreed to let the other alone, and went on enjoying our storm.
At long last, my brother called to tell me the warning had cleared. Thank you for the heads-up, personal weather team! I waited for the rain to lighten up a bit, then went back to the tent. In my haste to leave, I left the flap open a bit too far. I had zipped the mesh door all the way closed, but a turn of the wind had sent a good amount of water inside. My sleeping bag, thankfully, was just beyond the wet. I sopped up what I could with my towel, and slept through the shortest night of the year with raincoat and pants on, using the sleeping bag as a cushion.
Day 53, Fond Du Lac, WI – Kettle Moraine State Park, WI
81.9 miles in 6:43:43 for 3274.8 in 267:37:11 of wheels spinning so far and a top speed of 24.3 mph
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Mile 3192.9 – Cycling in the news
Saturday morning, 51 days since starting my trip, I woke up in a dorm room ready for a full day of my college reunion. My first scheduled event was the Alumni Parade at 10:00, but of course I was awake much earlier than that. I grabbed my phone to see if I could find the story about my in the Post-Crescent. Getting to their site, a photo of me popped up with the link to the story. Here it is:
http://www.postcrescent.com/article/20100619/APC0101/6190565/LU-grad-s-bicycle-trek-stops-in-Appleton
It’s a good write up. There are two minor factual errors, The town in New York I ride to is Nyack, I have never been to Niagra, and my friend I’m going to visit is in Wilmington, not Bloomington. Neither of these are worth calling up the paper to get them to fix, though now I suppose part of the public record of this trip is incorrect. I also wish they had included the name of my blog in the print version, though at least there is a link in the online article.
Satisfied with the story, I wanted to get copies of the paper for my mom, my grandmothers, and a couple to send home to Brooklyn. Grabbing Penny, I set of to search College Ave for some papers. When I got to the avenue, I was met by something I did not expect at all: a farmers’ market. That certainly wasn't there when I lived here. I walked a bit through the crafts and vegetables, past booths offering sandwich sauces and locally crafted draught sodas. There was a truck with a large tank on the back, through the window of which you could see trout swimming. I found a booth that had complimentary copies of the Post-Crescent. I looked down at the paper, and there, front page above the fold and in full color, were Penny and me, riding up College Ave. For this day, I was the biggest story in the Fox Valley. I grabbed several copies.
I rode back to the dorm and emptied a pannier. My plan was to go back to the farmers’ market, grab a number of ingredients, then make breakfast with my camp stove out on the balcony of the dorm. I bought no more than two things from any one vendor, wanting to spread the love around a bit. I got oyster mushrooms, spinach, green onions, goat milk provolone and cheese curds (which were fantastic) a draught root beer, a tomato, peaches and some bratwurst patties. As I was walking back to the end so I could get back on the bike, a guy stopped me and asked if I was the guy who had ridden here. We talked for about 10 minutes, both of us leaving satisfied at the meeting.
I needed eggs to complete my breakfast idea, so I rode up to Jacob’s Meat Market and got eggs and rolls. I made it back to the dorm again and gathered what I needed to cook. Heading out to the second floor balcony, I opened the door. This set off a rather loud alarm. Oops. Sorry, anyone who was still asleep. I went down to the desk and they called security to turn it off. I changed my venue for breakfast then, choosing a small, tree lined circle behind the building. The final product was quite good.
The details of my reunion activities are not really germane to the story of my bike trek. I mailed off the copies of paper to my relatives, played a Swedish game called Kubb which involves strategically throwing sticks of wood at blocks of wood, and at the end of the night, was the last man standing when the partying was done.
This actually was a bit of a problem. The sky was getting light and I was not at all tired. I laid down in my dorm room for a bit, but I was still wide awake. So I did what come naturally to me, I decided to take a bike ride. As I pulled Penny out, I waved to the desk worker. Stepping outside, I got a brilliant view of pink clouds lining a deep blue sky behind Main Hall. I went back in and told the desk worker, who seemed to be wasting time online, to come out and look at the sunrise. We stood there for a moment, admiring the work of sunlight brushing across the upper atmosphere.
Across the Lawe St Bridge, there is a trail that runs out to the eastern end of College Ave. Where College turns into County CE, the CE Trail begins, stretching from Appleton to Kimberley. Just as I reached highway 441, the sun broke the horizon. This was a good trail. I didn’t take it all the way to the end, rather I turned around shortly after a bike shop off the trail in Combined Locks. Back into town, I took the Olde Onieda St Bridge back across the Fox River, getting the western view of campus.
It was now 6:20, I had ridden around 17 miles already and most of my peers were still asleep. I was not getting tired, so went to bed. At 8:00 the church bells a few blocks away started ringing and I couldn’t fall back to sleep after that. I got an email from Ian, one of the organizers of the Tour of America’s Dairyland. The event takes place in locations across Wisconsin, and it happened that they were doing a criterium in Appleton that afternoon. He invited me down to meet them, so around 9:20, as they were still setting up for the morning, I dropped in. I talked to them for a little bit and shook some hands. They were clearly busy, so I said I’d drop by again later in the afternoon.
At 10:30 was our class breakfast with the new university president, Jill Beck. President Beck isn’t brand new, she’s now been there for a number of years, but was new since our graduation 10 years earlier. I had planned to bring up expanding bicycle access on campus and the surrounding community, but instead, by the time she got over to our table, I was just tired. Oh well. I’m going to try to plan an alumni bike ride for future reunion weekends, so I’m sure at some point our paths will cross again.
I got back to the dorm and packed up. I had brought all of my stuff down to the lounge by noon and for a little while reworked my day’s route to include the CE trail again. I wanted to get down to Fond Du Lac at least, at the southern end of Lake Winnebago. But first, I had a bike race to go watch.
A crit is a short circuit race. The track they had laid out went four blocks along College Ave, turned up two blocks and turned again (actually at the corner I used to live on) and then a third left turn to get back to College Ave. The course was .8 miles and there were a set number of laps for the different skill rankings. The biggest race of the day was the last one, the professional men’s rank. I came in at the middle of one of the lower men’s ranking, but it was still a great race.
As I stood watching, the guy I had talked to at the Farmers’ Market the previous morning found me. I really wish I could remember his name. He was excited to see me again and introduced his partner. He told me that he was inspired by me and had ridden 20 miles that morning, for the first time in years. He rode out along the CE trail to the bike shop that I had turned around at, got a few new things for his bike and was going to start riding regularly again.
Now this may sound corny or insincere. Standing there in the middle of a bicycle race surrounded by professional cyclists, cycling organizers and mechanics, to be told that I, a lone amateur, had inspired someone to get back on his bike was as proud a moment for me as climbing to the summit of Carson Pass. I have had several people along the way tell me that they want to get back on their bike because of me, this was the first time that I know someone actually had. From this moment forward, regardless of what happens between now and home, this trip has been a success.
I talked with a number of other people in the crowd, one of them even offering me the copy of Saturday’s paper if I hadn’t gotten one. I ended up getting six, so I think I’m covered. One older man, retired military by the looks of him, though possibly a farmer hardened by Wisconsin winters, talked to me for about 20 minutes. He liked to go to bike races and reads the major cycling magazines, though his riding days were behind him. He complimented me on my choice of the Trek 520 and, after a thorough exchange of cycling philosophies told me ‘What you’re doing takes balls. It takes lots of balls. You should write a book.’ Hard to disagree with that.
I met up with Ian again briefly and secured his assistance as I try to set up an alumni ride. There’s quite a bit of the organizing stuff I can do from Brooklyn, but things like finding and marking appropriate routes is better done locally. He again offered to take me out and introduce me around if I wanted to stay until they had cleaned up around 9, but I wanted to get on the road.
I left Appleton at last, taking the CE trail I had ridden 8 hours before. Along the way I passed some bushes full of birds warning passersby to stay away. One of them was flying right behind and above me, calling angrily. Suddenly, there was a bang against the back of my helmet. I was attacked! I was attacked by a bird! Thankfully, the bird didn’t even scratch the helmet. If I wasn’t wearing one, that may have hurt. I rang my bell a couple times and the bird retreated.
I took the trail to its end in Kimberley, then swung south along the eastern shore of Lake Winnebago towards Fond Du Lac. I stopped at a little ice cream shop in Sherwood. The owner, seeing my helmet, asked if I had heard about the guy who had ridden from California to Appleton this weekend. I smiled. Yes, yes I had heard something about that.
As I was approaching Fond Du Lac, the day’s activity was taking its toll. I not only had little energy, but I started to get sleepy on my bike, for the first time I can remember ever in my entire life. I managed to stay awake though. Getting into Fond Du Lac, I found a trail running along the highway that I hadn’t seen on any of the maps. I crossed town and found a room close to the Wild Goose Trail, which I wanted to take south in morning. Shortly the sky was dark, I was fast asleep.
Days 51 & 52, Appleton, WI – Fond Du Lac, WI
67.24 miles in 6:35:35. 3192.9 miles total with a trip time of 261:53:28 and a top speed of 36.1 mph (hit going down the hill crossing the Lawe St bridge)
http://www.postcrescent.com/article/20100619/APC0101/6190565/LU-grad-s-bicycle-trek-stops-in-Appleton
It’s a good write up. There are two minor factual errors, The town in New York I ride to is Nyack, I have never been to Niagra, and my friend I’m going to visit is in Wilmington, not Bloomington. Neither of these are worth calling up the paper to get them to fix, though now I suppose part of the public record of this trip is incorrect. I also wish they had included the name of my blog in the print version, though at least there is a link in the online article.
Satisfied with the story, I wanted to get copies of the paper for my mom, my grandmothers, and a couple to send home to Brooklyn. Grabbing Penny, I set of to search College Ave for some papers. When I got to the avenue, I was met by something I did not expect at all: a farmers’ market. That certainly wasn't there when I lived here. I walked a bit through the crafts and vegetables, past booths offering sandwich sauces and locally crafted draught sodas. There was a truck with a large tank on the back, through the window of which you could see trout swimming. I found a booth that had complimentary copies of the Post-Crescent. I looked down at the paper, and there, front page above the fold and in full color, were Penny and me, riding up College Ave. For this day, I was the biggest story in the Fox Valley. I grabbed several copies.
I rode back to the dorm and emptied a pannier. My plan was to go back to the farmers’ market, grab a number of ingredients, then make breakfast with my camp stove out on the balcony of the dorm. I bought no more than two things from any one vendor, wanting to spread the love around a bit. I got oyster mushrooms, spinach, green onions, goat milk provolone and cheese curds (which were fantastic) a draught root beer, a tomato, peaches and some bratwurst patties. As I was walking back to the end so I could get back on the bike, a guy stopped me and asked if I was the guy who had ridden here. We talked for about 10 minutes, both of us leaving satisfied at the meeting.
I needed eggs to complete my breakfast idea, so I rode up to Jacob’s Meat Market and got eggs and rolls. I made it back to the dorm again and gathered what I needed to cook. Heading out to the second floor balcony, I opened the door. This set off a rather loud alarm. Oops. Sorry, anyone who was still asleep. I went down to the desk and they called security to turn it off. I changed my venue for breakfast then, choosing a small, tree lined circle behind the building. The final product was quite good.
The details of my reunion activities are not really germane to the story of my bike trek. I mailed off the copies of paper to my relatives, played a Swedish game called Kubb which involves strategically throwing sticks of wood at blocks of wood, and at the end of the night, was the last man standing when the partying was done.
This actually was a bit of a problem. The sky was getting light and I was not at all tired. I laid down in my dorm room for a bit, but I was still wide awake. So I did what come naturally to me, I decided to take a bike ride. As I pulled Penny out, I waved to the desk worker. Stepping outside, I got a brilliant view of pink clouds lining a deep blue sky behind Main Hall. I went back in and told the desk worker, who seemed to be wasting time online, to come out and look at the sunrise. We stood there for a moment, admiring the work of sunlight brushing across the upper atmosphere.
Across the Lawe St Bridge, there is a trail that runs out to the eastern end of College Ave. Where College turns into County CE, the CE Trail begins, stretching from Appleton to Kimberley. Just as I reached highway 441, the sun broke the horizon. This was a good trail. I didn’t take it all the way to the end, rather I turned around shortly after a bike shop off the trail in Combined Locks. Back into town, I took the Olde Onieda St Bridge back across the Fox River, getting the western view of campus.
It was now 6:20, I had ridden around 17 miles already and most of my peers were still asleep. I was not getting tired, so went to bed. At 8:00 the church bells a few blocks away started ringing and I couldn’t fall back to sleep after that. I got an email from Ian, one of the organizers of the Tour of America’s Dairyland. The event takes place in locations across Wisconsin, and it happened that they were doing a criterium in Appleton that afternoon. He invited me down to meet them, so around 9:20, as they were still setting up for the morning, I dropped in. I talked to them for a little bit and shook some hands. They were clearly busy, so I said I’d drop by again later in the afternoon.
At 10:30 was our class breakfast with the new university president, Jill Beck. President Beck isn’t brand new, she’s now been there for a number of years, but was new since our graduation 10 years earlier. I had planned to bring up expanding bicycle access on campus and the surrounding community, but instead, by the time she got over to our table, I was just tired. Oh well. I’m going to try to plan an alumni bike ride for future reunion weekends, so I’m sure at some point our paths will cross again.
I got back to the dorm and packed up. I had brought all of my stuff down to the lounge by noon and for a little while reworked my day’s route to include the CE trail again. I wanted to get down to Fond Du Lac at least, at the southern end of Lake Winnebago. But first, I had a bike race to go watch.
A crit is a short circuit race. The track they had laid out went four blocks along College Ave, turned up two blocks and turned again (actually at the corner I used to live on) and then a third left turn to get back to College Ave. The course was .8 miles and there were a set number of laps for the different skill rankings. The biggest race of the day was the last one, the professional men’s rank. I came in at the middle of one of the lower men’s ranking, but it was still a great race.
As I stood watching, the guy I had talked to at the Farmers’ Market the previous morning found me. I really wish I could remember his name. He was excited to see me again and introduced his partner. He told me that he was inspired by me and had ridden 20 miles that morning, for the first time in years. He rode out along the CE trail to the bike shop that I had turned around at, got a few new things for his bike and was going to start riding regularly again.
Now this may sound corny or insincere. Standing there in the middle of a bicycle race surrounded by professional cyclists, cycling organizers and mechanics, to be told that I, a lone amateur, had inspired someone to get back on his bike was as proud a moment for me as climbing to the summit of Carson Pass. I have had several people along the way tell me that they want to get back on their bike because of me, this was the first time that I know someone actually had. From this moment forward, regardless of what happens between now and home, this trip has been a success.
I talked with a number of other people in the crowd, one of them even offering me the copy of Saturday’s paper if I hadn’t gotten one. I ended up getting six, so I think I’m covered. One older man, retired military by the looks of him, though possibly a farmer hardened by Wisconsin winters, talked to me for about 20 minutes. He liked to go to bike races and reads the major cycling magazines, though his riding days were behind him. He complimented me on my choice of the Trek 520 and, after a thorough exchange of cycling philosophies told me ‘What you’re doing takes balls. It takes lots of balls. You should write a book.’ Hard to disagree with that.
I met up with Ian again briefly and secured his assistance as I try to set up an alumni ride. There’s quite a bit of the organizing stuff I can do from Brooklyn, but things like finding and marking appropriate routes is better done locally. He again offered to take me out and introduce me around if I wanted to stay until they had cleaned up around 9, but I wanted to get on the road.
I left Appleton at last, taking the CE trail I had ridden 8 hours before. Along the way I passed some bushes full of birds warning passersby to stay away. One of them was flying right behind and above me, calling angrily. Suddenly, there was a bang against the back of my helmet. I was attacked! I was attacked by a bird! Thankfully, the bird didn’t even scratch the helmet. If I wasn’t wearing one, that may have hurt. I rang my bell a couple times and the bird retreated.
I took the trail to its end in Kimberley, then swung south along the eastern shore of Lake Winnebago towards Fond Du Lac. I stopped at a little ice cream shop in Sherwood. The owner, seeing my helmet, asked if I had heard about the guy who had ridden from California to Appleton this weekend. I smiled. Yes, yes I had heard something about that.
As I was approaching Fond Du Lac, the day’s activity was taking its toll. I not only had little energy, but I started to get sleepy on my bike, for the first time I can remember ever in my entire life. I managed to stay awake though. Getting into Fond Du Lac, I found a trail running along the highway that I hadn’t seen on any of the maps. I crossed town and found a room close to the Wild Goose Trail, which I wanted to take south in morning. Shortly the sky was dark, I was fast asleep.
Days 51 & 52, Appleton, WI – Fond Du Lac, WI
67.24 miles in 6:35:35. 3192.9 miles total with a trip time of 261:53:28 and a top speed of 36.1 mph (hit going down the hill crossing the Lawe St bridge)
Friday, June 18, 2010
Mile 3124.6 - Get back to where I once belonged
It has now been 50 days since I left San Francisco. While most of that time has been spent riding, I've had a lot of non-riding time in the last couple weeks, since getting to Minneapolis, really. Today I'd be arriving in Appleton for my reunion, the only set date I needed to be anywhere by. After the weekend, I'll be almost clear of the bottleneck, just my parents in suburban Chicago and a couple more friends in Illinois and Indiana to see.
Even though I don't usually eat breakfast for at least an hour after I wake up in the morning, I got out of the shower to see the dining room table spread with food. It was only just 7:30, and that's long before I would start to feed myself. There was only a place for me set, as this grandmother just has a cup of coffee for her first meal of the day too. After I ate what I determined would be a satisfactory amount of food in her eyes, I pushed away from the table. As I was repacking and double checking my route for the day, the photographer from the Appleton Post-Crescent called and we decided to meet up on County CB out by the airport, around noon.
I spent a few minutes maintaining Penny, took a picture of her with grandma, then got back on the road. Though I was going less than 30 miles, it was good to be moving forward. Just across the Fox River as it takes it's course through Lake Butte de Morts and Lake Winnebago, is the trailhead for the Wiouswash Trail. It swings back west as it hits Outagamie County, after which I would have to switch to county roads. The trail was great, however, another old railbed turned rec trail. Now whenever I look at train tracks, I see a bike path.
I passed several people along the way, but for many miles it was just me, the wild raspberry and sumac and the trail. At one point my phone rang. It seems that Mr. Peterson at Lawrence had been busy. The call was from the newsroom of WHBY radio in Appleton, and he wondered if he could have a few minutes of my time. Of course, of course. This wasn't a live interview, he asked questions and taped my responses. It lasted about 15 minutes and while I always have more to say, I at least said enough that I wanted people to hear. As I type this monday morning, I still havn't heard the actual piece that aired, but I have evidence that it did. Someone who had flown in to Appleton for the reunion told me that the cab driver who picked him up was talking to him about it. This is the post on WHBY's website: http://www.whby.com/news/whby/news/451d9059296a/
As I was wrapping up that conversation, a cyclist with panniers and a handlebar bag went by me. It didn't take too long to catch up to her, and I asked about the bags. She was riding 20 miles today, getting ready for a long trip she and some friends were taking. It was a nice talk, but then I got to my turn off. She continued northwest with the trail and I headed northeast towards Appleton.
Several miles later, I got to the corner of the Outagamie County Airport. The property stretched for several miles to highway CB. I turned and started along another side of the airport's exterior fence. The photographer had no problem picking me out, but as I stopped to talk to him, he said he didn't like any of the shots. The side of the airport grounds isn't the greatest backdrop after all. He said he would catch up to me on campus and get me again there.
I do not know why there is no bike lane, path or trail from Lawrence campus downtown to the mall or airport on College Ave way past highway 41. There should be. I would have ridden that. Instead I got to deal with a good amount of mall traffic and others moving from the interstate towards downtown. Even once you get downtown, there's not a good place for bikes on the road, so most other cyclists I say was riding on the sidewalk.
I don't like that, I really don't. It is not safe for you to be riding there and it's especially not safe for the people trying to walk there.
I got back onto campus and there was the photographer again, set up across from the picturesque Lawrence Chapel waiting for me to come into frame. Once he was satisfied with the pictures he got, we talked a moment. I then rode around to the new Richard and Margot Warch Student Center. This building is really fantastic. It has a dining hall, cafe, shop, conference rooms, offices of student publications and other organizations, a much better cinema room than the old on in the arts building, and mailboxes that you keep the whole time you are a student there.
I walked up to the registration table and told the girl working my name, class of 2000. Her eyes perked up and she said 'you're the guy riding his bike, right?' I think the nametag in my folder of registration stuff should have read 'The Guy', because all weekend long I heard 'Oh, you're the guy...'
Day 50, Oshkosh, WI - Appleton, WI
29.35 miles in 1:39:50. Now 3125.6 miles in 255:18:53
Even though I don't usually eat breakfast for at least an hour after I wake up in the morning, I got out of the shower to see the dining room table spread with food. It was only just 7:30, and that's long before I would start to feed myself. There was only a place for me set, as this grandmother just has a cup of coffee for her first meal of the day too. After I ate what I determined would be a satisfactory amount of food in her eyes, I pushed away from the table. As I was repacking and double checking my route for the day, the photographer from the Appleton Post-Crescent called and we decided to meet up on County CB out by the airport, around noon.
I spent a few minutes maintaining Penny, took a picture of her with grandma, then got back on the road. Though I was going less than 30 miles, it was good to be moving forward. Just across the Fox River as it takes it's course through Lake Butte de Morts and Lake Winnebago, is the trailhead for the Wiouswash Trail. It swings back west as it hits Outagamie County, after which I would have to switch to county roads. The trail was great, however, another old railbed turned rec trail. Now whenever I look at train tracks, I see a bike path.
I passed several people along the way, but for many miles it was just me, the wild raspberry and sumac and the trail. At one point my phone rang. It seems that Mr. Peterson at Lawrence had been busy. The call was from the newsroom of WHBY radio in Appleton, and he wondered if he could have a few minutes of my time. Of course, of course. This wasn't a live interview, he asked questions and taped my responses. It lasted about 15 minutes and while I always have more to say, I at least said enough that I wanted people to hear. As I type this monday morning, I still havn't heard the actual piece that aired, but I have evidence that it did. Someone who had flown in to Appleton for the reunion told me that the cab driver who picked him up was talking to him about it. This is the post on WHBY's website: http://www.whby.com/news/whby/news/451d9059296a/
As I was wrapping up that conversation, a cyclist with panniers and a handlebar bag went by me. It didn't take too long to catch up to her, and I asked about the bags. She was riding 20 miles today, getting ready for a long trip she and some friends were taking. It was a nice talk, but then I got to my turn off. She continued northwest with the trail and I headed northeast towards Appleton.
Several miles later, I got to the corner of the Outagamie County Airport. The property stretched for several miles to highway CB. I turned and started along another side of the airport's exterior fence. The photographer had no problem picking me out, but as I stopped to talk to him, he said he didn't like any of the shots. The side of the airport grounds isn't the greatest backdrop after all. He said he would catch up to me on campus and get me again there.
I do not know why there is no bike lane, path or trail from Lawrence campus downtown to the mall or airport on College Ave way past highway 41. There should be. I would have ridden that. Instead I got to deal with a good amount of mall traffic and others moving from the interstate towards downtown. Even once you get downtown, there's not a good place for bikes on the road, so most other cyclists I say was riding on the sidewalk.
I don't like that, I really don't. It is not safe for you to be riding there and it's especially not safe for the people trying to walk there.
I got back onto campus and there was the photographer again, set up across from the picturesque Lawrence Chapel waiting for me to come into frame. Once he was satisfied with the pictures he got, we talked a moment. I then rode around to the new Richard and Margot Warch Student Center. This building is really fantastic. It has a dining hall, cafe, shop, conference rooms, offices of student publications and other organizations, a much better cinema room than the old on in the arts building, and mailboxes that you keep the whole time you are a student there.
I walked up to the registration table and told the girl working my name, class of 2000. Her eyes perked up and she said 'you're the guy riding his bike, right?' I think the nametag in my folder of registration stuff should have read 'The Guy', because all weekend long I heard 'Oh, you're the guy...'
Day 50, Oshkosh, WI - Appleton, WI
29.35 miles in 1:39:50. Now 3125.6 miles in 255:18:53
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