Police... of course

Geneseo is a nice town. It definitely has a small town feel because, well, it's a small town. I ended up having a long conversation with the owners of Roy's Taco House. They are very nice people and have good tacos.

I've discovered that wearing a backpack and walking around town looking tired makes you a bit of a celebrity. Everywhere I go people want to know where I'm from, where I'm going, how long I've walked and of course, "How heavy is that thing?" The daily life in small towns is quite slow in comparison to what I'm used to being near Chicago and all, so a hiker with a possible story is quite an event.

After Geneseo, I continued on the Hennepin canal into a town called Colona. There wasn't much there that I saw but I was just passing through. It was this town where I finally completed the canal trail. The total distance was somewhere between 60 and 70 miles I think.

I met a rather interesting fellow at the end of the canal who told me with his beer breath that he was a one man band who performed in the Quad City area. He offered to ferry me across the Rock River in his canoe, but he seemed pretty drunk. I have my digital camera and cell phone on me that probably won't work well after submersion. He seemed to be quite drunk. I told him thanks anyway and went on my way.

The the trail dead ended at the river with the canal, so I had to double back about a mile to get back to town. At that point the American Discovery Trail continues invisibly along the roads.
In a few miles I crossed the Rock River by way of highway bridge and it was getting dark. Needing a place to sleep I found a slightly wooded field and set up camp about 200 yards off of the highway. Paying for a place to sleep is overrated. Welcome to freedom.

I continued on through Silvis, East Moline and Moline in the morning. Not being overly interested in the city, and not wanting to be stuck in an urban area looking for a place to sleep, I hopped a city bus to get to the Centennial Bridge. The bus cost me a whopping eighty cents.

After I got off of the bus I got all covered in sunscreen, and walked across the Mississippi. They have a railroad bridge just down the river from the Centennial. It has a large section in the middle that disconnects and rotates so that the larger boats can get through.

I met three nice guys on the bike path going south from Davenport. They were drinking out of paper bags and had cans of Old Milwaukee laying about. I said hello to the fellow travelers but didn't have the time to make that much conversation. I asked them how far to the Buffalo Shores campground just south of Davenport and they told me 20 miles. It turned out to be 10 but that was alright since I wasn't going to make it there before dark anyway. They also informed me of all the places in the city that I could get a free breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was nice of them. I guess they are the type of people you want to meet if you're traveling on foot.

I had a bike path to travel on for the first two or so miles along the Mississippi then it ended and I was on the highways and byways again. Rain was in the forecast according to my handy dandy crank radio, and possibly storms.

I was just about to set up my tent to beat the rain when I saw another bridge going over the river about a mile and a half away. It turned out to be the 180 expressway bridge. I reached the bridge and set up my tent beneath it. It rained, but sadly no storms. Sleeping under a bridge. Am I a hobo yet?

Buffalo wasn't much of a town I discovered, it looked like it was dying with empty shops and buildings everywhere. I thought it was kind of sad. The campground was about one mile south on the main road.

The next morning I decided to walk to town for breakfast at the local diner. It was good food but on the way back to camp, the local police officer stops on the other side of the road. I wave and say hello and he waves me over. He ends up asking me for my ID and goes back to his car to run a check. I'm annoyed. I notice a small truck pulled over on the side of the road watching. When the officer comes back I ask if he was looking for someone he said no, and almost apologetically says he was just running a check because someone called in a complaint. He shakes my had and says have a good day. He was a nice guy, actually.

Obviously I must have looked like a scary guy, having a clean shave, wearing a rather nice Columbia jacket and clean khaki colored pants. How dare I walk down the road.

It is quite sad that people are so afraid of everyone else that you can't be a stranger without someone freaking out. Maybe if Buffalo was a little more welcoming it wouldn't be dying. I for one, don't plan to be back.

On the other hand, the campground was very nice. It is state run yet very well maintained, with nice sites and clean showers. The ranger there was quite nice and we had a lengthy conversation.

One of the old folks there in an RV offered me a ride to Muscatine, the next major town on my way. I've found that travelers have a kind of community. They are always willing to help other people of the road. We're all strangers, but all family too.

I'm considerably stronger now. The pack only seems heavy at the end of a day of walking. I still have blisters and my feet still bleed, but pain seems to become good company when we spend so much time together.

Wow

I'm 5 days into my hike, and its a little different than I thought it would be. So far, the challenge is there, but boredom is the enemy.

The very first day of my hike, I walked about 15 miles. That was the average that I was hoping for per day. The first problem that arose was that I was definitely not prepared for this trip. My feelings about the challenge of hauling 55-60lbs on my back for miles and miles all day were sorely underrated. A bit more conditioning would have done me well. While it was really hard and painful, I was expecting this sort of thing as part of the package. Because I never had time to recover in the next days, it just got worse.

The second challenge was the development of many blisters on my feet, which also happened on the first day. I have no fewer than six, of which one on each foot bleeds with the abrasion of walking. My socks are bloodstained. My choice in shoes could have been better as well. Every step is painful, but worth it.

These initial days will be the hardest for sure, as I get strong and heal my feet. No pain no gain.

I thought there would be people on this trail like on the Appalachian Trail but I was mistaken. There is nobody except a few fisherman. I went the first 3 days without a town or anything. I definitely appreciate solitude, probably more than others, but a fellow hiker here and there would be nice. Additionally, I'm in the middle of cornfields most of the time. If I wanted to to walk through cornfields I could have stayed in McHenry County. A reevaluation of my goals on this trip are in order.

I like how hardy this makes a person, and the great challenge. The physical hardship is good for anyone, and I'll be happy to complete the Hennepin Canal trail and cross the Mississippi. As far as going through Iowa and Nebraska... it can only get worse as far as seeing things and meeting people.

The locks and bridges along the Hennepin are pretty cool. Some of them are not active, some are restored. You can almost imagine the barges going through and the towpaths which I walk being used. I do particularly enjoy the aqueducts as the streams below are quite clean.

On the third day I find a town. It's called Anawan. I see a local cop on some country road and ask him if there is anything in this town. He looks at me strangely and informs me that there is a grocer, laundry and to check out the best restaurant in town, called the Purple Onion.

I walk the next mile of the canal, take a left at a road, cross an interstate highway and find Anawan. The first thing I see is a gas station and my sweet tooth overwhelms me. I go in and scarf a package of Ho Ho's and pick up a Snickers bar for the road. I ask one of the locals there where I can find a restaurant called the Green Olive. She laughs and kindly informs me that the Purple Onion is down two blocks, take a right, two blocks.

I head that way, and find the post office. I go there and unload books, olive oil, Parmesan cheese, and unnecessary equipment. I send them back home. The lighter load makes me happy. The lady at the post office seems normal, so in passing I happen to mention that I'm going to the Purple Onion to eat. She gave me a weird look when I said that. She would not say anything bad about the place but I wondered what that look meant.

I stroll around the block to find the diner and see in the middle of downtown, a shabby section of white building with purple trim. Ugly, but interesting.

I felt like a baddie in an old western movie as I enter. I don't exactly look normal with this huge pack on my back with gear strapped everywhere. I walk through the door and judging from the looks I get I could have just slammed the door, pulled out a revolver and told everyone to hand over their cash and jewelry. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and looked directly at me. A moment of complete motionless silence ensues. After my shock of the place wears off, I ask the waitress if I should seat myself. Life resumes normally.

I have never seen a more ramshackle restaurant. the chairs and tables looked like those that come out of a fifty year old house to be used in a rummage sale. I can see the kitchen from the "dining area" and it seems that the fridge came out of the same house. Thankfully, due to a half wall, I cannot see the cooking surfaces. I notice a dingy old house smell me as I sit, and I notice that our friendly police officer is having coffee with a group of gents old enough to be his grandfather.

The bacon double cheeseburger is okay and the fries are good. Once soft drink and a water later and I'm ready to go. The price was fair. The waitress was very good, so I tip her $5 and pay the bill. Over all, it was definitely an experience.

I do my laundry and charge my cell phone then head out of town to the trail.

Another day's walk, and I'm in the town of Geneseo. A town of 6000 that reminds me of Woodstock with nicer people. There is a real campground here so I am enjoying the shower immensely. I'm staying here for an extra night to try to heal my feet and aching body then I will move on. In a couple more days I will be at the Mississippi and then to Iowa. Unless I have some sort of epiphany that I want to spend my next few months in absolute boredom, I think I will probably make it a road trip to Denver, where I can do some real hiking.

new blog.

Yay my new blog! When I find something interesting to say this is where it will be.