June 1

On the current leg of this trip I'm looking to explore the many bike paths and trails that have been constructed along the way.  States and municipalities are finally realizing the benefits that can come from creating bicycling routes for recreation and transportation. Not only do such facilities help local residents maintain their health through exercise, they also can turn into tourist attractions.

It won't be possible everywhere, but as I ride across the Midwest and East into New England, I'll be stitching together my routes with various bike paths and trails promoted by the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy.  I'm using their TrailLink app on my phone as an informational guide and navigation tool.

When I left my sister Rita's place in Eldridge, Iowa, it didn't take long for me to find a great example of the transformations that take place from constructing bicycling infrastructure.  On both sides of the Mississippi River, the Quad Cities have been involved in creating some beautiful places for people to get outdoors on their bikes. (In 2017, its QC Trails project received the “Trails for Health Award” from American Trails for its “commitment to improving access to trails and promoting their use and importance for increasing physical activity.”)

In Davenport, I took the bike path along the river from the city's East Village to the new Interstate 74 bridge. If I wanted to cover the same territory without the path, I would have to ride on River Drive, which would be very dangerous. Traffic moves very fast and the outside lanes go right to the edge of the road. It's no place for even the most accomplished cyclist, let alone an average person out for a leisurely ride. But now, with the bike path, a person can enjoy the riverfront as a place to get a workout or find a bench to stop and relax.

That path also leads to the new I-74 bridge — the one with the white arches above — which opened in December 2021, replacing the old, green Illinois-Iowa Memorial Bridge. The new span features a dedicated lane for bicyclists and pedestrians, separated from the highway traffic. It was getting plenty of use from at least a couple dozen walkers when I used it to cross the mile-wide river into Moline, Illinois.

At the base of the bridge in Moline the lane connects to a path that takes cyclists to the Ben Butterworth Parkway and the Great River Trail, which continues into East Moline, where I grew up, and follows the river north for 62 miles to Savanna, Illinois. The TrailLink app describes the trail as providing "a breathtaking journey."

On this trip I didn't have time to ride to Savanna. I was headed to another trail that I've been curious about since I was a kid. To get there, as it turned out, I would be cycling through my old neighborhood.

So, when I got to East Moline I turned away from the river and climbed up the hill to where things still looked familiar — except for the first house I grew up in, which was painful to look at.

I don't have pictures of what the house at 2828 7th Street looked like when I was a kid, but my dad turned it into a little gem. After I was born — up until my brother, Jim, moved out when I was 4 (he was 18) — we had a family of seven living in that little two-bedroom bungalow. Dad fixed up the walk-up attic into a bedroom for my three sisters, and he turned the basement into our main living area, with a kitchen, bathroom, living room, dining room/play area and office/sewing room. The front yard was bigger (and manicured) then, with two trees, but they disappeared around the time the city widened the street.

When I was 12, we moved a few blocks into a ranch-style house at 2714 5th Street that didn't require my mom to climb so many stairs (which was getting hard on her legs). It still looks pretty much as it did when we lived there — although, it is missing the three maple trees that used to be in the front and side yards.

After my quick trip down memory lane, I rode to the little town of Colona, Illinois. That's where the Hennepin Canal Parkway begins. The canal, which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, was one of several channels constructed throughout the Great Lakes region in the 1800s to connect the lakes to main waterways such as the Mississippi, Des Plaines and Illinois Rivers. Dug by hand, the canals provided transportation corridors that brought all sorts of products and materials that people otherwise didn't have access to. The barges carrying those goods were often pulled through the canals by horses and mules as they walked along an adjacent towpath. Today, in some states, those canals and towpaths are being converted into recreational corridors that attract tourists and provide economic boosts to communities that have been struggling for decades.

Illinois has yet to get its act together. 

When I arrived at the park in Colona, I felt optimistic. I planned to ride the towpath some 50 miles to the little town of Tiskilwa, where I had reservations at a bed-and-breakfast, The Tiskilwa Inn. The start of the parkway looked pretty good, with a paved path. (Were all the negative reviews I'd read over the years wrong?) 

As I continued, however, the problems and shortcomings soon became evident. Depending on which governmental jurisdiction I was riding in, the trail could consist of any number of surfaces — blacktop, compacted pea gravel, large gravel, sand, hard-packed dirt, grass or even mud. And as I moved east, the width of the trail kept narrowing until it wasn't much wider than my bike tires. At times the weeds and grasses on either side of that strip were as high as my knees. As the bags on my bike brushed through the growth, they sometimes sounded like I'd put a playing card in the spokes of my wheels, like we used to do as kids.

I also reached a section under a county-road overpass, about 30 feet long, that was flooded. It was too deep and unknown for me to attempt riding through it. To get around it, I pushed my heavy bike up a steep embankment covered with thick, tall weeds to get to the road above. At the top, I had to take off the bags to lift the bike over a guardrail. After I got everything put back together, I pedaled a short distance on an adjacent road until I found an access point back onto the path.

With all these challenges, you would probably think I had a lousy experience. On the contrary. While it was frustrating at times, I found the quiet corridor of green to be a lot of fun and a wonderful escape. I was helped by having wide tires (38 millimeters) on my bike, which allowed me to pedal through the grass and gravel and other muck that skinny tires would sink into. 

There were many moments when I just had to stop to enjoy the beauty of the surroundings, such as this old bridge. 

I also saw a variety of wildlife — two black turtles with shells almost a foot in diameter, a ferret, a woodchuck (I think), muskrats, rabbits, a deer, lots of squirrels and a few raccoons.

The only cyclists I met on the trail were a few locals on mountain bikes. Most of the people — maybe a couple dozen all day — were walking the path or fishing in the canal.

With all the things that slowed me down on the path — including a wrong turn that added about 30 minutes to my ride — I got to The Tiskilwa Inn pretty late, 6:15 p.m.  (I had called the owner, Jeremy, a couple of times to update him on my progress.)

The next morning, after devouring the breakfast Jeremy prepared with locally produced eggs and sausage, some amazing baked pears, and strawberries from his garden, we talked about my canal experience and the history of Tiskilwa. 

Jeremy told me he has worked in the hospitality business for more than 15 years. He first worked for Hilton Hotels and then operated a B&B in Virginia. He was looking to do something new and, after searching the country, found that Tiskilwa and the large, red-brick home he bought for his business fit his vision. He also thought the canal had potential to be an economic engine someday for the town and his B&B. 

I was his only guest on that Wednesday night/Thursday morning, but he said his place is often full on weekends with people from Chicago or the Quad Cities, who just want to enjoy the quiet and slower pace of his little town. And guess what, they also come for the nearby canal, where they enjoy walks despite its condition. 

Jeremy told me that the Hennepin Canal's conditions vary so much from one section to another because each local jurisdiction it runs through has responsibility for its upkeep. Some of them have motivation and resources to make improvements, while others just ignore it. He said a nonprofit group has formed to pull together all the different governmental bodies into a common effort. Not only is the group talking about developing the towpaths, they have also been discussing cleaning up the water channel so tourists may someday enjoy such things as gondola rides, kayaking and canoeing.

"When that happens," he said, "watch out."

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