This morning began by hitting the road shortly after 5:00am. A lot of the riding today was trail riding, but the crushed limestone surface slows the pace ever so slightly, so an early start was necessary. Once packed, I noticed that my trailer tire was flat. Hoping it wasn't a punctured tube, I pumped up the tire and hoped for the best. Two miles down the bike path, I was pulled over swapping out a punctured tube for an intact one. After this 10 minute diversion, I was back to riding again. The first 20 miles or so were on paved paths, but the Badger State Trail surface eventually switches from blacktop to crushed limestone about 10 miles south of Madison. Riding today was noteworthy for many reasons, the most immediately apparent was knowing that I would be riding by myself for the entire day. Garrett and I parted in Madison, as his trip continued eastward and eventually south to the suburbs of Chicago (his home). Secondly, I would be riding into areas that I was familiar with, but not from the perspective of a bicycle.
Parts of the Badger State Trail were noticeably impacted by strong storms that passed through about six days prior, but the trail was still worthy of bike traffic. While passing through Monroe, I made a point of stopping at Brennan's, a small-chain grocery known predominately for their cheese and great service. I not only came for cheese; I also picked up a six pack of Moon Man, a beer brewed by New Glarus Brewing Company (which is solely distributed in Wisconsin). After consuming about half a pound of cheese, I was on the trail again heading toward Illinois. While the trail name would change after crossing into Illinois, the railroad bed that the path rests on was the same (the former Illinois Central Railroad).
Once at the Illinois/Wisconsin state line, the trail conditions were noticeably poorer no more than 200 yards after crossing over into Illinois. Preface: the trail conditions I encountered was all due to a storm from nearly one week prior. Within the first 200 yards, I carried the bike and attached trailer across downed tree that blocked the path. This first downed tree was only an inconvenience. However, within the next 10 miles, I crossed another tree, and went off the path around another. This was increasingly irritating, along with the downed limbs that made the ride feel like it was more off of a path than on one. I encountered a fourth downed tree, which was not resting on the ground across the path; rather, it was about 18 inches above the trail surface. Weighing my options and going with my stubbornness, I opted to lift the bike across with the trailer attached. This proved to be a mistake: as I lifted the bike across, the trailer jackknifed to the right crushing the already diminished derailleur. While the bike could still be ridden, I could only ride on three of nine gears. I would be stopping in Freeport at the local bike shop for a new derailleur. I couldn't help but wonder: was I supposed to make it back to Dixon today? Punctured tubes and dysfunctional derailleur be damned, I would make it.
Shortly after the derailleur mishap, I departed the trail, because an oncoming cyclist said that the trail conditions ahead were no better than what I had already encountered. While the roadway wasn't shaded, I had the reassurance that I wouldn't encounter any downed trees blocking a roadway. I rode eastward toward Cedarville, then southward on IL-26 and eventually to downtown Freeport to a local bike shop. Like my last bike shop stop, I was fortunate that this one carried the same brand as the bike I was riding (Trek). I was in and out within about 40 minutes, but before leaving I offered up three beers to the three gentlemen working, and one exclaimed, "that's our favorite from New Glarus!" The three were all friendly, conversational, and struck me as being all around great guys, so I'm glad I could share the beer.
Once on the road again, I had intended to ride along Baileyville Road to just north of Forreston. However, this road was closed due to flooding, which meant I would ride IL-26 all the way to Dixon. The shoulder was rather narrow until IL-26 met up with US-52 just north of Polo. Now I was finally back in an area that I was extremely familiar with riding! 2420 miles later, and I was riding into Dixon! I rolled into Dixon past Plum Hollow where I saw my overexcited mother waving at me as I rode past. Feeling the day after being on the road for about 11 and a half hours, I yelled, "I apologize, I'm not stopping." I tore down Galena Avenue, holding no less than 29mph from Ken Nelson all the way to the Rock River, where I hopped onto the sidewalk instead of continuing to ride through traffic. I opted to cross Galena Avenue with the protection of a traffic light and rode eastward along River Street toward Route 2. Once on Route 2, I felt that a stop at Porky's was due, and this would undoubtedly provide carbohydrates necessary for the final four miles, or so, of the ride. While here, I met up with two local friends and had a great time chatting about the trip.
Once on the road again, for a final time, I rode back to my parent's home in White Oaks where my mother and Ben met me. I promptly cleaned up, as we were going to be having dinner with my father and Luke. It was puzzling to feel that I had finally made it back; reality hadn't quite sunk in but here I was experiencing it. We had a great steak dinner compliments of my mother's cooking. Perhaps it was the home cooked meal that helped it sink in: it was a long way home, but 29 days of riding and 2428 miles later I was there. Home.
