Riding in Tribute to:

HELEN REINKE

Paying it forward and.....see you in West Bend!

Kenosha, Wis - 90 miles and it was a long and adventurous day on the bike. Started by getting lost in Indiana. Found my way to the bike trail and proceeded to cross into Illinois and the unknowingly cross back into Indiana.

A couple of off-duty Chicago police officers, Ed and Dana, got me back on course. 

Ed and Dana

They asked where I was from. I said, "West Bend - north of Milwaukee but not as far as Green Bay."

GB was NOT the right thing to say. They winced in unison.  I forgot I was in Bear country.

Easy path up Chicago's lakefront - took in some of the sights...

... even helped one young man from Belize fix a flat. "You are an angel," he said. I gave him my spare inner tube because he had two holes in his tube and a patch would have never held.

Drifted into Higher Gear bike shop in Highland Park, Illinois and spent some time with Austin, Peter and Anna.

Check out the 30-inch racer thighs on Peter. He's from England and was part of the 2012 short track Olympic team.

From left: Austin, Peter, me, and Anna

He had the confidence to wear a pink helmet and pink biker shoes.

We all traded touring stories and then the store refused to charge me for the tube I bought to replace the one I gave away. "Paying it forward," said store clerk Becky.

Home stretch on Thursday. Kenosha to West Bend. 

Meet at WB Tap and Tavern at 6 p.m.  I should roll in by then. 

I NEED HELP!

I'm on the home stretch and...

I NEED A FINAL PUSH!

As I cross over the border to Wisconsin, I'd love to rev up the RPM's.........BUT ----

I'M GETTING TUCKERED OUT AND COULD USE YOUR HELP!

I'm setting a goal to RAISE $3500 IN 24 HOURS
as I make the 

HOME STRETCH TO WISCONSIN!

CAN YOU HELP?

100% of all donations go directly to Alzheimer's Awareness
for programming at the 

COTTAGES AT CEDAR RUN, 

the nation's first facility dedicated to Alzheimer's disease
and related dementia care.

Click HERE for MORE INFORMATION or to DONATE SECURELY NOW!
Or
PLEDGE a donation by sending me an email with your name, address and pledge amount to:
thebikewriter@gmail.com

As I pedal on to make a difference for Alzheimer's................

STAY TUNED!

I'll keep you updated on the progress of this final push!

THANKS!

New record - 130 miles!

Set a new Steffes world record on Wednesday, biking 130 miles from Towanda, Illinois (just north of Bloomington) to Marengo, IL, which is about 25 miles from the Illinois/Wisconsin state line.

Much credit for the swiftness goes to a fabulous tailwind that pushed me along at about 20 mph. The telephone poles were passing by fast - like teeth on a comb. If I had waxpaper streamers on my bike you could have heard me humming right along.

I feel I've hit my prime at 48; I should have tried out for the Olympics, although today I feel extremely crickity.

The reason I look so grumpy in the photo is because my brain is putty and my feet hurt.

Notice the fire truck behind me - the chief at the department in Marengo, IL let me sleep in a bunk for the night. There were two calls during the night and I felt very beholden to respond, but I was resting.

Comments:

I am glad to hear that u r still on the black top cruzing home. Makes me feel good that there still r some communities still willing to help. Keep on cruzing Judy! :)  Cassie Holder

Jesse Clay Phillips

Crossed the state line into Illinois on Friday and made my way north up Highway 51 to Carbondale. 

The best local stop for breakfast is Mary Lou's Grill. It's on the main drag, across from the Amtrak Station. The popular diner has one long stretch of chairs running the rail at the front counter. 

Every circular stool is taken; once someone gets up, another person is immediately in that spot. Mary Lou's is famous for its biscuits and gravy; when you get a waitress, make friends with her quick.

Just outside Carbondale I veered west up Highway 13; the locals say it's less traveled and a much better road.

About 15 miles into the ride I was searching for water at the lonesome intersection in the town of Vergennes (pop. 298). A sign points down the street to the business district; a tumbleweed rolls across the road in the distance.

There's a small rickety, white building off to the side of the road with a pickup in front and a big metal can of Primex sitting on a table. A hand-painted sign with thin black letters on the side of the building reads 'Antiques and Furniture.'

There are a couple of lazy wicker chairs at the entrance.  Ducking my head I walk in hoping to find directions, water, or the distance to the next town.

Inside it's like stepping into another world. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I found the place packed with fine antiques. There were two primary paths and it's eerily quiet with the only sound being my bike cleats clacking against the hardwood floor.

The place is amazing with old oak headboards, small dolls with their heads wrapped in scarves, Dad's Root Beer soda bottles, and a Roy Acuff collector plate.

The man sitting quietly in the corner is Jesse Clay Phillips.

He creeped me out, like the guys at Halloween that sit in costume on their porch and don't move until you get too close to turn back.

Jesse

Jesse, 73, managed a slow smile when I told him he scared me. 

"Most people that come through are stopping for conversation," he said.  Jesse had an accent but I couldn't pin it down. I half-expected him to say something like "you have a 'purdy' mouth."

Jesse was dressed in a light-weight blue and black plaid shirt. He had white mad-scientist hair and a bit of a paper napkin stuffed in his right ear. I didn't ask, and just assumed it was a lack of insurance combined with a home remedy.

Jesse had been there since the 1980s. He said his selection of antiques changed often and he only displayed the best.  He had an old pitchfork made from a tree branch; the tines on the farm implement were sanded and polished to a fine point.  "Take a look there at that shovel," he said pointing to a completely wooden handmade shovel.

Jesse made some comment about my legs and fitness level; being alone in his den and wondering where his eyes were going I worked my way back to the light.  Once outside I retrieved my camera and went back inside, this was too good of a photo opportunity to miss.

And with that I learned about the real Jesse Clay Phillips.

He was an artist, and showed me several books he self-published. Out of a thin cardboard box he retrieved a coffee table book 'The Beauty of Southern Illinois, a pictorial tribute.'  "Took all these shots with a one-step camera," he said.   

Jesse had documented the landscape in a four-county area with photographs of trees, plants, and the ski hill during the seasons.

The photos were magnificent with crisp color, and an artist's eye and patience. "Most people walk into a shot and wait; I think some of the best pictures are right there in front of you," said Jesse.

Although we were far from rushing through the books, Jesse acted with hurried urgency trying to show me as much as he could while he had my attention.  "Just a couple more, ah know you gotta go," he kept saying.

And with that, I holstered my hurry and stayed and talked to Jesse all the while thinking that if I had been in a car I would have driven right by.

Rain and Rest, but no Rodents

Check out the classic hotel sign - 

note the Disney promotion at the bottom. 

Just north of Greenville, IL.

Tanked Sunday. Rain was ahead and feeling punk so I laid down outside a Casey's General Store and fell asleep for an hour. Got up - no mice had run across my face and no bears ate my toes... and I felt better. Made it 77 miles and landed just outside Springfield. 

Bike Fix - Illinois

Finally found a bicycle shop in Carbondale, Illinois. My front derailleur had been giving me fits the past two states as the chain refused to respond and jump in the big ring up front.

Dave McDonald owns Phoenix Cycles. "I haven't seen one of these in years," he said about my Centurion. "I think it's one of the first bikes I sold when I bought the shop in the 1980s." Dave reviewed the situation and made a head-shaking diagnosis. "You know, I can put some lube in here and tighten your cable a bit... but there's a lot going on here and once I change one thing that'll open up a whole new series of issues," he said.

As we studied our weary situation another employee came through the door. "A Centurion RS; man it's been a long time since I've seen one of those," he said.

Alex had short cropped hair and was dressed in a bike tech apron. He had a thin face and when he smiled his eye-teeth reminded me of Robert Pattison in Twilight.

The men looked at each other, their heads shaking. 

Dave pointed out the U-brackets in back which held my bike rack to the frame. He also brought out his chain-o-meter. "You see here how we have some play in the chain - you've really stretched this and if you look here by the ring you can see light as I rotate the pedal." During an even slower rotation Dave indicated how the chain links did not even sit between the teeth in the sprocket. "It's just riding on top; you see that?," he asked.

I nodded, like it was normal. "When I get into the big gears it sounds like the rhythm of a train."

Dave

Dave let out a lot of big sighs. "You sure do get your monies worth out of your gear," he said. My dad would be proud.

While Dave wrenched I told him about my father and his baby-seat bike. How he put four child seats on an old Schwinn. One in front of the handlebars, another wedged behind and then two more seats perched on the fender in back.

"No helmets I bet," said Dave.

"Nope, only ponytails for protection." My dad would take me and my sisters out for rides when we were growing up. Later, when my brothers entered the picture, my dad spliced together three tandems. We had seen a show about the Wallendas and another on Evel Knievel and got all inspired.

The triple bike never worked too well, but we tried and that's where I give my dad the credit for getting me into biking.

It's all the adventure you care to have; just get on and ride.

Comments:  Good Morning Judy,  Just wanted to let you know we really enjoyed chatting with you last Saturday at Mary Lou's.  Got on your web page and saw where you did take 51 north.  Hope all worked out for you.  We enjoyed reading your blog.   Judy & Bernie  RV'ers

Land of Lincoln and...

...home  of Dick Van Dyke.

"I grew up in Danville, Illinois, 

right in the middle of the state."

Dick Van Dyke

Crossed the state line into Illinois on Friday afternoon.  Not too bad - Orlando, FL to Illinois in 13 days. Stayed in Anna, IL last night at First Christian Church. 77 mi on Friday. Hoping to make it to Springfield, IL by Monday or Tuesday...

Back in Wisconsin...

MONROE, Wisconsin - Aging red-wood barns, fields of corn, and grocery stores named Piggly Wiggly... I must be back in Wisconsin.

Cycled across the Illinois/ Wisconsin state line this week; a little behind schedule but that's what happens when you have a plan - Mother Nature always wins.

Rain delays have forced me to seek shelter; in those times of urgency anything will do. Normally I prefer being indoors, but crossing through Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri I cooled my heels for about two nervous hours under an open-sided pole building across from Hillbilly Park.

It was a junkyard of sorts that sold itself as antiques.

It's these kinds of places and the people that make the tour unique.

Hospitality & History

Riding a bicycle cross country makes it easy to stop or veer slightly off course and look at the sights. We're the people that actually read the historical markers along the side of the highway.

I also find bicyclists are approachable by the locals. The bike is a common denominator, it helps break down barriers, and everybody wants to share the high points of their community.

In Freeport, IL a man with a bicycling background insisted I stop at Union Dairy. "It's a Freeport tradition since 1914," said Tim. The Union Dairy on E. Douglas St. was a worthy break. The two-sided diner, with an extra seating in the back, was a throwback to the 1950s with a front counter full of silver fountain-drink mixers surrounded by individual mushroom-size, stools. In the middle of the seating area, waitresses scooped sundaes, ladled hot fudge and squirted a tower of whipped cream on just about everything.

The menu at Union Dairy played off the neighboring historical site that marked the location of the second Lincoln/Douglas debate; a debate between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas that occurred in 1858 and focused primarily on the issue of slavery.

From the grill there was the Heated Debate - a burger topped with Pepperjack cheese and homemade hot and spicy sauce.

There was also the All Feta Up burger which was made with Feta cheese, black olives, and mustard.

And, of course, the Lincoln/Douglas burger topped with fresh prepared horseradish, Havarti cheese, ketchup and a pickle.

The ice cream portion of the menu featured treats like Dirt Sundae, Mint Melt Away and Razz-A-Mack which was two scoops of Mackinac Island Fudge, red raspberries, whipped cream, pecans and a cherry.

Those gut-busters ran about $5, not counting the Original Holy Cow which featured 12 scoops of ice cream and all toppings for $24.

I think the best recommendation I received was the peppercorn sweet potato fries. Orange and crispy and seasoned with a mix of salt and shavings of sharp peppercorn.

Ties to Lincoln

Every community across Illinois has a link to Lincoln.

I spent the night in Pittsfield, Ill after crossing from Hannibal, MO and traveling east on Highway 106. One historical marker in front of the Shastid family home on E. Jefferson St. said Lincoln was a frequent guest. A plaque outside the home noted Lincoln once ate all the families' pigeons for dinner, leaving seven of the Shastid children hungry. One boy was so mad, he called Lincoln a 'big ole hog.'

Up the block on E. Washington St. is the William Watson Hotel. (see picture HERE) Built in 1838, the hotel was a frequent Lincoln hangout; he was noted to kill time in the hotel lobby between court sessions or while waiting for a verdict from the courthouse across the street. The lobby at the Watson Hotel featured an original decorative tin ceiling, a large red-framed portrait of Lincoln on the west wall, and dark hardwood floors. "There are 14 rooms in the hotel," said owner Jonas Perry. We chatted a bit about the hotel and the tour. He said another man on a bike passed through recently, traveling from Florida to Alaska. "You should stay here," said Jonas. I backed away from the generous offer, explaining my limited travel finances. Jonas then moved out from behind the counter, slapped a key in my hand and said it would be a complimentary stay. "I'm the owner and you're in room 207," he said. "Enjoy the experience."

Note to self, Illinois has fabulous hospitality .

I was wide-eyed as I totally snooped around the place. All of that was made easy because the hotel left the doors open to unoccupied rooms and suites. Perry, who had invested in three downtown buildings, did an amazing rehab. There were exposed red brick walls in every room. Antique furniture completed the amenities with distressed wood dressers and cabinets and old two-and-three-panel doors as bed headboards. Walls in the hallway were painted a light olive, offset by clean, white trim. Tin signs for Royal Crown Cola, King Edward Cigars and Clown Cigarettes hung in the hallway. And by the kitchen a couple of framed newspaper articles detailing Perry's accomplishments and his selection as one of the 40-under-40 leaders in the community.

Freeport-Standard Picks Me Up

Another shout out - this time to Illinois, and reporter Jane Lethlean -

Read entire article HERE.

Crossing the big steel bridge over the Illinois River, Judy Steffes of West Bend, Wis. said she wondered what it would be like to be a Green Bay Packer fan in Chicago Bear country.

She did not need to worry. The rural people of this state were just as nice and accommodating to her as the Texans were on May 18, when she embarked on a cross-country bicycle ride to create awareness of the exercise that comes with riding a bicycle.

Steffes made a stop in Freeport on Monday. Her first stop was at Cub Foods. She was looking for places to see in the “City of Lincoln.” Someone suggested she visit the Stephenson County Historical Society Museum. She was disappointed to find it closed.

The next stop was Freeport Public Library to use a computer to upload her blog to the newspaper she works at in West Bend, Wis. Her readers depend on her weekly journal of her travels.

With just a couple of hundred miles left in her trip, Steffes said her journey has been one of continued discovery of the niceties of people. Her bicycle is her common denominator to conversation. Strangers approach her to listen to her stories. The bicycle breaks down the barrier.

Pittsfield, IL - Watson Hotel

One of the lovely rooms in the historic William Watson Hotel in Pittsfield, Ill.

This pictures SO does not do the hotel justice.

Illinois "State Sovereignty, National Union"

Big, industrial, steel bridge over the Illinois River.

Sunrise outside Havana, Ill.