The morning started with the now familiar creaking and clang of metal on metal when the gear truck gets opened up by Billy D, our camp sergeant major. We slept well but got somewhat harrassed by the mozzies. They just can not pass by Kobie without having a taste of him....
Kobie was eager to get out on the road with Art to continue marking our route. Some 38 miles is suppoesd to be on a bike path, so no marking required, or so we thought. The car can anyway not go on the 6' wide path, so we had to navigate that on our own. Much construction and signs for "bike detour" threw many of us a curve ball, as we never realized that this area contained a vast network of trails which is very confusing to say the least. I must admit that I am very prone to losing my way, since I lack Kobie's instinctive sense for direction. So if there is a chance of getting lost, I propably will!
It just so happened that upon leaving this morning, I got into the same group with Dale and Jim H. Dale wore an oversized green wind shirt, that would easily fit any of the Clydesdales in the group. It was a bright green, flapping in the wind, enough to cause many squirrels to gasp in astonishment, squeeking alarm at this huge flying squirrel whirring by with purring chains. It crossed my mind that his shirt might work great as a sail in case we get a tailwind! At Dale's side, tied to his hip, hung his precious folding tire, which I found hilarious. Later at camp Dale told me with great dignity that it saved his skin when he wiped out around a turn on the bike path, skidding on the gravel. He fell on this tire, which he now calls his "bumper". He confided in me that he is actually considering to hang a similar tire from his other hip in order to have protection on the other side as well! What a delightfully funny guy...we have loads of laughs!
The first section of the bike path was pure joy, paved and running through a green tunnel of foliage. I could smell the subtle forest fragrances, the dew still fresh on the leaves. Birds and crickets formed the background voices for this ensemble of nature. On the forest floor some startled small critters darted out of our way. Even a raccoon crossed hastily in front of our long line, fortunately not causing a pile up.
The coffee shop on the way provided us with a savoured moment of rest. The bikers cleaned out the shelves of all the tasty pies and treats to go with the good coffee. The path went along the Fox river, and some handsome frontage work has been done in several towns. The construction caused us to lose our way when diverted anto a "bike detour", which left the river and ran east, which we didn't notice for long since we were tunneling through the green foliage! Much later we crossed some paved busy roads and the sun didn't appear to be in the right place. We discovered we're many miles off course, but we did the stop-think- plan-act procedure to find our location and a new way to our destination without alarm. We bought a map and navigated through very dense Chicago traffic, prayerfully of course! Inthe process we shaved off 8 miles from the original route and saved sore saddle time!! Realizing our predicament I got some energy from within and put the pedal to the metal as good as we could do so safely. Jim is a real dependable calm trooper and as a team we managed to find our way back, and be some of the first to arrive at camp! So we can add "lost in Chicago on a bike" to our list of adventures on tour!
The Bentum sisters got cut off by a car and fell, damaging the one bike's back wheel to an irreperable state. The offending lady drove away, but got rounded up by the police. Bruises only from the falling, ... we praise the Lord for that. After returning from marking the route, Kobie had to drive out the 40km to take a spare bike out to the sisters so they could finish the ride - which they insisted on - and bring the damaged bike back. Good to have an extra SAG driver around!
Tonight we got treated to nice pizza and movies, and tomorrow we are cycling through the real poor areas of Chicago in teams of minimum six to get a sense of poverty.
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