Big Cities, Small Towns

Comparisons between this ride and the Transamerica Trail will be inevitable over the next two weeks. After day one, the biggest difference between the two is the size of the cities and towns I passed through. My last ride was almost exclusively a ride through rural America. The biggest city I biked through over those two and half months was Pueblo, Colorado with just over 100,000 residents. The smallest towns I biked through today had populations of 80 and 90 thousand.

Today, I spent much of the day escaping the suburbs of Chicago, which push right up to the Illinois-Wisconsin border. Biking through the north shore of Chicago on a Sunday morning was a pleasant start to the trip. On weekend mornings Sheridan Road becomes a thoroughfare for bikers. Several cyclists speeding pass took an interest in my loaded bike. I tried to ignore their disappointment when I told them I had only started about ten miles down the road. I pedaled past the Baha'i Temple, which rises like a mini Taj Mahal in Wilmette, and a Frank Lloyd Wright, which I had never noticed in Highland Park.

The veneer of wealth faded by the time I hit Waukegan, Illinois. I biked through the city earlier this year and sensed that Main Street was a ghost town. The large, historic buildings appeared vacant and dilapidated. This felt familiar to me, a son of Detroit. As I biked through Waukegan today, I saw signs of life downtown. Scores of cars were parked on the street, their drivers attending apostolic services. While there were many boarded up buildings, there were also scenes of beauty and resilience.







Before arriving in the south suburbs of Milwaukee, I passed through downtown Kenosha and Racine. Racine appeared to be bucking the fate of Waukegan and so many other small towns. Its storefronts were rented and shoppers strolled the sidewalks, not all called to the mall lurking on the outskirts of town. A waterfront park houses an active marina. And a Dunn Bros. coffee house (royalty please) makes a tasty iced coffee.


By the time I hit the northern suburbs of Milwaukee, I was exhausted. It was a big first day, a century ride in the full sun with two-loaded panniers. I'm reminded of the aches and pains from two years ago: the numbness in my fingers, the tense shoulders, the tight knee. It should all loosen up in time for my arrival back in Chicago. The day ended on a high note -- a Mexican dinner on the south side with my brother John and his family. After that, I think I'll be ready to set off again tomorrow morning.