Living My High-School Geography Lessons

Approx distance: 500+ miles

Companions: None- as usual

Target destination: Somewhere on the banks of Mississippi

Highlights: My first long ride in the Wild West

Pictures taken: Several

Route: Chicago-Galena-Savannah. Covered the 3 states of Illinois-Iowa-Wisconsin

The bigger picture:

After successfully completing GMAT and scoring 95%, I turned my attention towards biking. The daylight which lasted until 8pm during peak summer, started fading by 7pm in late August. So I had to act fast and plan one long ride before the year runs out of enough light and heat for a vulnerable biker. Gone are the days when I have to take a call between a road map and a bottle of water for space and weight reasons. But for this ride, I had two 45-litre Givi hard saddle bags, big enough to gobble up all my non-human belongings on this planet.

Thanks to Google Hybrid Maps, I was able to visualize the terrain that I will ride through and made appropriate preparations. As usual, I also checked the weather forecast and satellite pictures of cloud movements and confirmed a ‘dry’ ride. I also made a mistake of noting down just the max and min temperature, but not the speed with which the temperature rises and falls during the day. On the eve of the ride, I packed for the ride and went to sleep, anxious for the next dawn.

I was on the road at 5:30am and headed approximately towards Galena, Illinois for it rolling hills and bovine-grazing landscape. I put off a gas/petrol fill-up for the later as I had about 4bars out of 5 on my digital fuel gauge- accurate, but deceptive as I will learn for worse. I was happy that I am on my very first long ride in USA, half way across the earth from my home in India. The risk and sacrifice I made to be on the saddle of Suzuki VStrom 650 headed on this long ride are immeasurable.

I started feeling cold as the previous night low temperature had not risen high enough with the lack of direct sunlight. I was wearing my leather jacket, but the wind was sneaking in through the generous wrist band and causing mild hypothermia and numbness. I even stopped in a rest-area, clicked a couple of pics and even waved at a lone Harley rider. By then, I was nearly 50miles from start and riding through corn fields that stretched to eternity. I could hardly see any other human on the road or on the field working- it was a Sunday. But, I also noticed something else more important.

My bike’s fuel gauge was showing just 2 bars and I didn’t expect to see any gas station for the next 30miles. 2 gallons of gas is enough to take me approximately 100miles, but we never know. I proceeded without much thought unmindful of this as I had seen several of them until about 10miles ago. But, the fuel gauge was showing an optimistic reading because of the generous splashing of fuel on the sensor as I was cruising at 110kmph. Soon, the fuel gauge read just 1 bar. I grew nervous and was working out risk management options- like stopping passing cars for help, approaching the farm house for reserve gas. But I was riding through a never-ending stretch of fields and barns with no sign of human activity. I immediately dropped the speed to 80kmph and ducked behind the windscreen to minimize aerodynamic drag and stretch that last gallon of gas. I knew that I will eventually find a gas station but the wait seemed longer on a motorcycle saddle doing 80. I passed several rural towns that had just 10 house and no shops or gas stations. I even thought of hitting the nearby freeway, but what if I get stranded on the freeway? I can’t even push my bike or walk there. I saw a sign board ‘Oregon 12miles’ and heaved a sigh of relief. I have seen several such board for different towns, but this board convinced me because the font was bold and capital- a sign of a bigger town. I don’t have to worry till my 1 last bar on fuel gauge starts blinking as in distress indicating 15miles worth of petrol range. But, within 2 miles, it started blinking. I grew nervous and was cursing myself for not staying at home and having a nice late morning sleep. Every 5seconds, I took a look at the gauge hoping that the red light doesn’t come up. I was scanning the horizon for that town Oregon. I was making good progress with the 10, 8…2mile sign boards. After all, I have just 2miles to push my bike- if that town had a gas station. I caught a glimpse of a McDonald’s Yellow-and-red arch and I knew I had made it. I totally forgot that I was feeling cold and that my legs were numb.

I set out again only after seeing petrol brim to the top of the tank, just like when you fill Pepsi in a glass. My next immediate concern was food/breakfast as it was nearly 8:00 am CST and stomach rats were in full play. The sun was shining and my cold concerns were gone and I just had to focus and enjoy my ride. I was sporting an eternal smile under the helmet as I was enjoying every bit of my first experience of a long lone motorcycle ride through an enigmatic country, waving at other riders and town folk. I also saw a private airstrip with a few gliders parked and ready a take off. I also saw a para-glider in the air running sorties around his corn field. I simply couldn’t stop and click pictures anywhere and everywhere, because there were several no-stopping zones and the shoulders were too small to stop safely. This is a major difference between India and USA because, I never worried about safely stopping, I could stop anywhere I wanted to and other motorists never bothered and swerved around me. But here, the motorists expect a separate lane and don’t try to drive around, because anyway they owned cars that cant turn or swerve around such obstacles. This led to a less number of good pictures in my collection and decided to fit a camera on my bike or helmet so that I don’t have to stop to take pictures. I could click even while I cruise- a good work-around for this problem.

I rode through several quaint motorway towns that one sees in road trip Hollywood movies like ‘Smokey and the Bandit’. I took a break near a watch tower and plotted my next course of ride. In the map, I also saw the Great Scenic River Road that runs along side the banks of the Mississippi river and I was determined to spend some time on its banks and relax and meditate. Several years ago in my High School, my Geography teacher punished me for not drawing it correctly. If I meet her again, I will show her what R.Mississippi looks like from close quarters! But I will have to cross the town of Galena to reach the river banks. Galena is one of the prettiest towns I have ever come across in USA. I didn’t even think of such a town existing in the highly consumeristic culture that is prevalent in what is left of USA. The brick houses, majestic arches, lovely gardens, road side decorations, gravel roads, well-maintained shoulders were a treat to my tired eyes that didn’t have any recreation for nearly 8months. I slowly puttered through this place and headed towards the mighty river banks.

At first sight, the mighty river was narrower that what I expected it to be. It was only as wide as a tributary of most Indian rivers. But there was plenty of water flowing through and I could hear the roar of water- unlike most Indian rivers that run dry and sport a parched look from the bridges. I sat in an observation bench facing the river and spent some time in solitude. I introspected about my activities for the last 1 year and the transformation that had taken place in my life- What I gained, what I lost-forever.

I met an interesting person, Mr.Dipak, aged around 55. He had driven to the banks of Mississippi from Chicago on his Toyota Matrix just to realize his boyhood fantasy of seeing R.Mississippi- I was not alone. We had a simple conversation about some good roads nearby. We both shared the same curiosity for the mighty river and traveled 250+miles just to see it flow, in flesh and blood, as they say. Not many people will approve of it and only a few can genuinely understand such feelings.

I was heading towards Savannah, IL about 35miles along the great river road. The vistas were simply stunning with its many forest reserves, mountain ridges and curvaceous roads that were shaped due to Mississippi’s flows. I simply rode to enjoy the view and smell the fragrances that are only to be found in water-rich areas. The feeling I got was ethereal and eternal as though I reached immortality and penance. I was smirking at the cars with their climate-controlled interiors for they miss and destroy what Mother Nature unfolds to every traveler along its river banks and water ways.

Along the way to Savannah, I saw several Harley groups having their weekend ride. Most of them were without helmets and they rode in formation. Most of them were 30+ and had that bad guy look written all over their attire. They rode much faster than the speed limit and I had to pull over several times to let them pass without their cordon being broken. Most of them thanked by waving or saluting me inspite of me not riding their own kinda bike. Savannah is a hang-out town with its many cafes along its two main roads. All the roadside parking was taken over by Harley groups and they were having the time of their life. It looked like the weekend Harley get-togethers were the only notable event in this town. It has a railway station for freight-handling and an old iron bridge across Mississippi to cross into Iowa State. I just stopped for a quick meal and headed back towards home after a challenging and satisfying ride in a very long time.