Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 2 August 2nd. I will be celebrating my 48th birthday on the road. What a nice birthday present. I pondered those thoughts as I rolled my tent and sleeping gear, and prepared to depart Indiana. I was out of the campground and making a right turn back to the highway for I-70 by 7am. The morning was clear but warm. Traffic was on the moderate side as I came down the ramp onto I-70 west. Terre Haute has a creosote smell to it early in the morning, and I don't know why. I followed I-70 west into Illinois, and took the Casey exit about 30 miles later looking for gas. At the top of the exit ramp I made a left turn back over the interstate and pulled into a gas mart. I eased the ST to the pump opposite a GL 1500. I spoke to the rider, a 70ish looking man from Baltimore. He was on his way back home completing his annual west coast ride. He has done it every year for the last 20. I asked him- "so how far west was ya?" "Oregon, been a great trip" "how long ya been retired?" "I retired from the Air Force over 29 years ago, been doing what I want ever since" "how long have you been a Long Rider?" "I never knew a time when I wasn't a Long Rider" "You're my hero"
I failed to get the gentleman's name, but that was ok. He went on to say he thinks the GL has 2 cylinders too many. He thinks the job can be done with 4, the 6 cylinder GL devours gas, especially if you "crank it over 70" he says. He left out at 5 am this morning and already has 200 miles for the day. After my gas stop I went to SR 49 north. I was glad to be off the interstate. I saw a state trooper sitting on the overpass when I came by, but had no trouble. SR 49 was quiet on this Saturday morning. Hey don't these folks know its MY birthday? Where are all the bands and stuff? The farmland of Illinois is not much different than that of Indiana. I noticed that last fall. I could see tractors making their way to the fields, and cows grazing in the pastures. The shoulder of the highway was decorated in wild purple flowers, they were quite thick in some places. I thought they gave the scene a nice touch.
Population centers became more numerous the farther north I went. I was not far from Chicago, and the little towns along 49 seemed far removed from the chaos of such a large city. I wondered how that was possible near a large metropolis such as Chicago. I traveled SR 49 to I-74, where I went west. The interstate takes me through Champaign and a short ride later I take the exit for SR 47 north. A few miles later I busted through the jet stream, and the temp and humidity dropped quickly. It was like falling through a trap door. The air had a cool flavor, and the heat was gone. It felt like a late fall day in Alabama. The climate felt really good, and I savored it. Cool air began rushing through the open vents of the Roadcrafter and it chilled me. Forrest, Illinois is located at the intersection of SR 47 and US 24. There, I found a gas mart on the corner and pulled off for a break. This was a busy little place. Streams of east-west, north-south traffic trickled across the crossroads. The place I stopped at was doing a brisk business and I sat outside on a bench and watched, as I snacked on a bag of chips and drank Mountain Dew. I witnessed a nice amount of west bound bikers, many with touring loads. I guess they were Sturgis bound. When I finished my break, I took the road north and watched the farmland roll by. It was a good ride. I turned west on SR 116 and hooked up with SR 23 north. This route will take me all the way to Wisconsin. Past the elevator towns and cornfields, I kept riding north. Many of the small towns were cut in the middle of the corn. The fields surrounded them on all 4 sides. In several places I noticed the rows bordered sleepy back streets, and backyards served as buffers, separating corn from homes. Last fall I was east bound on SR 17, so when SR 23 crossed over it, I recognized the intersection. I fell back to that bleak, cloudy and cold day, and how it contrasted sharply with the warm sunny day I'm currently enjoying. In Streator I found a local chicken place and wheeled in for lunch. Not exactly gourmet for a guy on his birthday, but hey, I was doing what I loved. What better way to celebrate your birthday. I went in the empty cafe, and found a booth near the wall. It was one those places where you order at the desk, go sit down, and they bring it out to you. A bulletin board hung on a wall with pictures of boats and cars for sale. " 1993 Chevy truck 4 sale. Runs good, cold AC." The number to call was scribbled in a black marker pen, and was impossible to decipher. I picked up the local paper from Ottawa, and caught up on the news. I called home while I waited on lunch to be served. The chicken was ok but the crust a little too hard. I find that to be a common malady of fried chicken in this part of the country. I guess yankee chicken needs to cracked open to be good. I paid my tab and left a 2 dollar tip to a quiet but efficient waitress, and got back on the road. All morning I had been passing lots of U Haul trucks and trailers. Today was Saturday, moving day in most of America, and a lot of folks were hard at it. I came around them without having to slow down, and kept going north. The traffic on 23 began to get serious, as I passed just a few miles west of Chicago and its suburbs. Congestion began to build in the small towns, and I was slowed down considerably. At a Chevron gas mart in Harvard I slid my card in the pay at the pump feature, and satisfied my fuel light. I rested my stiff butt under a tree for 15 minutes before continuing my ride north on US 14. I was anxious to get to Wisconsin, and reaching my final goal of the day-Hartman State Park near Waupaca. In Wisconsin, I went to SR 89 and rode non stop north through the crowded southern portion of the state. My route carried me past one of the states main recreation areas, and lots of people were out and about. It was a beautiful warm day, and everyone wanted to get a piece of it. Many were pulling boats. I passed several home made "sweet corn for sale" signs. Some kind of weekend festival was in full bloom in Fort Atkinson, and it bogged me down bigtime, but I didn't care. It was interesting to see how people spend their free time in this part of the country. A car leaving a shopping center pulled out in front of me, but I was moving through the town slow and cautious and easily halted the ST. He never saw me. The ST eased me through the countryside effortlessly, but my butt was stiff again so I stopped at a drive in Columbus. They had covered picnic tables out front, and car hops waited on you like the old days. I found a table and plopped down. I ordered a Coke and it came to me in a frosted mug. Best Coke I've ever had on a trip. It seemed extra sweet going down. My voice mail icon was flashing so I checked it. My son had left me a birthday greeting. After my break I was back in the Wisconsin countryside on SR 73, home to the fanciest barns in the country. Red silos and barns were everywhere. Dairy is big industry in this state, and the barns take good care of the cows. The ride was scenic and I was enjoying the late afternoon. SR 73 had a few twists, but nothing challenging or extreme, the highway was fun. I was getting close to my final destination of the day so found a grocery store in Wautoma, to pick up supper items. I picked out 2 great looking chops, quick light charcoal, baked beans, and canned fruit for desert. I stuffed everything in the almost empty left saddlebag and headed out. I am a savy Long Rider now. This is eastern America, weather temps are stable this time of year. I predicted no cold weather on this trip, and I was right. My left saddlebag serves as my cold weather armory. I made a executive decision to leave all my heavy duty cold weather gear at home. I had no heavy jacket liner, gloves or extra sweatshirts. Thus, my left bag was almost empty. This is early August, I saw no need of packing all that stuff on the chance it was going to dip below 40. In all my 48 years I don't recall ever hearing about a frost in the eastern US in August, so I spared myself the trouble of packing all that stuff. Has anyone ever heard of a 90 degree day here in January? Same principal, it "ain't gonna happen." If some kind of end of the world frost occurred in August, there was always Wal Mart to run to. I left Wautoma on SR 22 and had a scenic, enjoyable ride to the park. Traffic had thinned out making the ride to the park pass quickly. The only problem were the rain clouds in the distance. I missed the entrance to the park and discovered I was in Waupaca in a drizzling rain. Puzzled at having missed the park entrance, I found the county EMS station and went inside to get directions. The EMTs instructed me to go back west. I did, and found the park a few miles later, and went in the office. "sorry were full" "even for a tent?" "yes sir, but I can give you names of several private campgrounds in the area" "ok lets have em" I saw a campground a few miles west of my location on the map. The description said it was a western style place with horse back riding, etc. That was ok, but I was more interested in the showers they offered. I was miffed. I've NEVER seen a state park with sold out tent sites, and now I was being sent west, straight to where a huge thunderstorm layed in wait. I was tired and really wanting to put tent pegs down right here. First to stay dry, and second because it looked like a nice park. Turning west out of the park I headed for the campground. The map said it was a 4-5 mile ride. I was on a local road, that I failed to note the name of. The dark clouds soon enveloped me, and the rain came down hard. If I find the campground do I really want to put my tent up in this? With the Roadcrafter zipped up tight I kept looking for the campground. Reduced to 40 mph, the STs windscreen could offer no protection, not enough wind to blow the rain over. Deciding not to ride back into Waupaca for a motel room was a poor decision, but I reasoned if the campgrounds were full so were the motels. I made my second dumb decision of the day when I found a sign pointing the way down a dirt road to the campground. The sign said nothing of how far down the road it would be. I sat in the rain looking down the muddy road. I HATE taking the ST anywhere near dirt. My bike hates anything to do with no pavement. The muddy road looked treacherous. Big puddles and thick mud beckoned me. I knew it was foolish, but I took the chance a welcoming campground was just around the bend. Quickly, I found myself wrestling the loaded ST, trying to keep it up in the mud. The front tire kicked out several times, but I managed to stay up. Too slow the mud would bog me down, and I fall over, too fast and the front tire kicks out too quick for me to counter. I dodged puddles as best I could as I followed the dirt road through the woods. Where is this place? How much further? Finally, I found it. What a disappointment. This place hadn't seen a customer in years. It was run down and high in weeds. It was pitiful. An old man rocked under a leaking porch, but I ignored him. I came all this way for this? Dejected, I carefully turned the ST around in the grass, and prepared for the trip BACK down the muddy road. The ride back to the highway was more of the same. Again, I made it past several close calls. It seemed like it took forever before the pavement came back into view. The last few feet were the worst, because coming all this way only to lose it within sight of highway, would really stink. I pride myself at making good decisions on the fly, but trying for that campground was the dumbest thing I've ever attempted on a tour. I was lucky not to have flopped the ST and everything I own down in the mud. Never again. With a sigh of relief, I turned right onto the highway, and headed back into town. My tires left a muddy streak on the pavement as I worked my way through the gears. I found a crossroads church and pulled into the parking lot, and got out the list of campgrounds the ranger gave me. The paper was soggy but readable, and I unfolded it. Water dripped off my Arai onto the paper as I tried to find another campground. There appeared to be another near the city, near highway 10. I took off that way, and a few miles later ran out of the rain. I committed the directions from the map to memory and 10 miles later I was pulling into the campground in the fading light. The place was full of RVs and a number of tents were in place. There would be no negotiation today. "yes, we have a few sites remaining" Music to the ears. I paid a reasonable 15 dollar fee and set out to find a site amid the RVs and Land cruisers. I can't see how some folks could say, camping in this place is getting "away from it all." The joint was crowded and not very scenic. If you looked out your window you just might see some joker starring right back at you. For me, I was just passing through, all I needed was a place to put my tent and a shower. If I want to "get away" I go to Idaho and pitch my tent in the Sawtooths. I covered 526 hectic miles today. Luckily, I found a site not too close to the camping behemoths, and set up. I started my fire while I set up my tent and bed. The fire was ready by the time I finished, so I slapped the chops and beans on and dined like I had big money. The Roadcrafter was still damp, so I hung it from a nearby tree branch, and put my gloves on a brick near my fire. When I finished eating I took a walk to the showers and got cleaned up. Back at the tent I made a few journal notes and called home. I was too sleepy to watch a movie on my DVD player so I got out my TV and watched the last 20 minutes of Law and Order and then the news. I expected the campground to be noisy with so many people, and I was surprised when it proved otherwise. I fell asleep before the news went off, and slept well. Next: Rain and storms across the UP, and making Sault St Marie, and reuniting with friends.
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