Starved Rock State Park

 

Cycling from Davenport to Chicago

 

 Cycling from Davenport to Chicago

     There is a network of canals connecting Chicago to the Mississippi River which make it possible to take a boat from the Great Lakes to New Orleans. Though this waterway is no longer used to transport cargo, the tow paths which remain are wonderful bike trails.  The canals often widen into lovely large lakes with pleasant beaches.  There several rivers which provide wonderful kayaking and access to the diverse ecosystem found in that part of the world.

      The paths also pass through a number of state and county parks which invite cyclists and hikers to rest or to spend the night.  I was particularly impressed by Starved Rock state park which has a series of hiking trails and waterfalls.  Illinois has surprised me with the diverse natural beauty which can found there. 

     When I reached Joliet the transition between rural and urban biking became evident.  The drivers were impatient with cyclists and would blow their horns in the hopes that I might disappear.  I attended a local Church of Christ that Sunday morning and was impressed with the welcome I received.  This denomination has embraced the tradition that all singing should be acapella.  The worship leader would give us a do re mi at the beginning of the song and the entire congregation would sing robustly in harmony.  It was wonderful and I wondered where they all learned to do this.  I was reminded of the observation by Walter Brueggemann

“The passion of church singing is inversely related to the affluence of a congregation.  The rural Pentecostal churches can sing their hearts out.  Suburban Presbyterian churches sing acceptably out of a sense of duty.  Downtown Episcopal Churches pay people to sing for them.” 

   It was a strange and glorious feeling to be surrounded by this mutli-racial, intergenerational group delighting the harmonic sounds of their own voices.  In singing together in harmony I experienced that our lives are linked in ways that are sometimes mysterious and miraculous.  Perhaps we could require congress to sing before the beginning of each session.

Day 70, Davenport Iowa

 

Day 70, Davenport Iowa

     I have had long days of cycling and often fall asleep before I am able to record the day’s events.  I have some notes from which I am now reconstructing some of my observations.

     Davenport is a lovely city on the banks of the Mississippi River.  I was able to have a beer on the riverside park while I listened to a local swing band play in the pavilion.  The evening was cool and I was able to watch a paddle wheel bring tourists up the river from down south. 

      I am grateful for the hospitality of Dustin and Jodi who gave me a place to stay.  There flat was a bit crowded, but they invited me to spend the night in their sign shop along one of the commercial streets.  I found a place among the mysterious looking printing machines used for the production of signs, locked the front door, and crawled into my sleeping bag for an early bed time.

       About 30 minutes later, there was a loud knocking on the glass door to the shop.  I arose from my sleep and walked over in my pajamas to answer.  There stood there a young woman with 4 large insulated bags.  She was relieved that I was there and she asked if she could put this food inside for the reception in the morning.  In my confused state, I invited her to do so.  I re-locked the door and went back to bed.

      Sleep did not come easily as I began to worry about the food.  Dustin did not mention anything about a reception, and the space seemed small for a gathering of any size.  In my ego-centric imagination I thought perhaps the reception was for me (though Dustin is the only person in town who knows of my existence). The large printing machines looked ominous in dark.

     I arose early, packed up my things and began to cycle across the Mississippi River.   There is a wonderful network of trails on both sides of the river with a lovely bike-bridge which spans the river.  I stopped in the middle and marveled at the river traffic moving below me.  A thought came to me that I should probably tell someone about the food in the sign shop.  I phoned Dustin at a work site to inform him of the nocturnal delivery.  He was even more confused that I was.  He began to question me which only revealed the magnitude of my ignorance.  He then left the site, returned to shop, and realized that food was intended for the grand opening of a beauty salon next door.  The fifty people who had gathered there for festive opening were standing around hungry and grateful for the transfer of food.  For the rest of the day I pondered what would have happened if I had decided not give a call to Dustin.   I must remember to not spend the night in foreign sign shops.

    

    

Visiting Chicago with Jeremy

I am very grateful that my son, Jeremy, was able to join me for a few days in Chicago.

Days 70-75 Cycling across Illinois to Chicago

 

Days 70-75 Cycling across Illinois to Chicago

       I spent the night in Davenport on the banks of the Mississippi River.  It was a wonderful experience to big boats again.  There is a large series of canals connecting the Mississippi River to the great lakes. Along the canals are the tow paths which have been re-purposed to bicycle trails.  They are beautiful with a bicycle friendly surface. 

     At the end of my first day I found myself absolutely exhausted after 25 miles.  I decided to stop 20 miles short of my planned destination and get a motel room.  I collapsed into bed and slept for 10 hours.  When I awoke, I discovered that one of the tires in my bicycle cart was flat and I had been dragging it for a considerable difference.  The sound of the crunching surface had prevented me from hearing anything unusual.  I felt foolish as I changed the inner tube and re-inflated it.

      At one of the many rest stops along the trail met a cyclist who was cycling from Chicago to Los Angeles along the old Route 66.   He introduced himself as Jim Franklin who was taking a leave of absence from his work as an epidemiologist for the Illinois office of public health.  When I described the events of the previous day and the exhaustion I felt at the end of the day, he pondered this for a moment.  He then explained that this describes precisely the plight of many of the persons of color in Chicago’s poorer neighborhoods.  He went on to say “this is why blacks have a maternal mortality rate twice as high as that of whites in the same city.  It is why black men die of heart attacks at three times the rate as white men.  It is why the many more blacks live in impaired immune systems and are much likely to die of Covid.  They are pulling a weight which of which the affluent are unaware and become pre-maturely exhausted.” 

     I thought about this as I peddled towards Chicago.  Many kind and conscientious persons are pulling a load which is unnecessarily burdensome.   It made me think of the comment by the Jewish philosopher, Philo “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

     It also serves as a reminder that I should check my cart tires more frequently.

Along the bike trail in Iowa

 

Day 69 Ames to Des Moines

 

Day 69 Ames to Des Moines

 

     There is an extensive network of bike trails throughout Iowa and Illinois.  It is very soothing to cycle away from cars and to have few stop signs.  It enables one to look out over the landscape and to aware of one’s sense of sight and smell.  The constant attention one pays to the dangers while riding on the road has a cumulative effect on one’s stress level.  This allows me to sing while I pedal:

 

The light of passion in dreamy eyes

The Page of truth well read

The glorious thrill in a heart gone cold

Of a spirit once thought dead

The song that goes to a comrade’s heart

The tear of pride let fall

My heart grows brave

And the world to me

Is a good world after all

 

Rest for your eyes are weary love

We drove the worst away

The ghost of the man I might have been

Is gone from my heart today

We’ll live for life and the best it brings

Till our twilight shadows fall

My heart grows brave

And the world to me

Is a good world after all.

 

   I was cycling from Ames to Des Moines to see Sam Greer, whom I had not seen in 45 years.  I worked with him in Oregon Caves National Monument when I was just out of high school.  It was an experience although this was a very long time ago, our friendship has transformed and nourished at various times in my life.  I discovered, among other things, the truth and power of Hamlet’s words to Horatio “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” 

 

    In the intervening years he became an anesthesiologist and I became a priest and both became respectable members of society.  When we met again, I was reminded of the curious and excitable teenager who still remains within me.  When I got off my bike we hugged and I asked “how’s the surgery business?”  He replied “a bloody mess!” 

 

    It was a joy to meet his wife, Kim and to tell him about my wife and children.  I spoke of the grown up I am pretending to be.  He was getting ready to fly up to the arctic to hunt musk ox the next week.   I then discovered that there is a joie de vivre lurking in the heart of the most respectable of persons.  I am grateful that Kim drove me to Davenport the next day where I spent the night Dustin and Jodi in his printing shop.