The Steppenwolf track that started this morning as I entered the turns coming out of Loud Thunder Park was just ending as I approached the turn leading up the hill to Illinois City so I turned off the radio and just enjoyed the rumble of my ‘09 Ultra as I passed a slow tractor and climbed the hill, accelerating just enough to ensure the V-Twin made its presence known to any deer that might be lurking close by.
Weekend mornings in October often start out with temps in the 30’s and this one was no exception. It was only 38 degrees with bright blue sunny skies at 8 AM. With two granddaughters due to arrive shortly after noon my two-wheel time was limited for the day, so after some coffee and a quick scan of the Quad City times I suited up with warm full leather protection, kissed my still sleeping wife goodbye and headed out for an enjoyable, solitary Sunday morning ride while the temperature finally edged a bit over 40 degrees..
The heated grips I was waiting for were still on back order so with a little redneck engineering I dug out a couple “Hot Paks”, rubber banded them around the grips for a little extra warmth, put on my insulated gloves and pointed my ride out the driveway.
As usual, I had no idea where I was headed so after a left turn toward the mighty Mississippi I decided a trip down the Great River Road to New Boston, Illinois seemed like as good an idea as any. Crossing over the Centennial Bridge from Davenport to Rock Island it was obvious the recent rains in Wisconsin and Minnesota were finally making their way down river as the water was nearly over the flood wall near John O’Donnell stadium and the Marquette boat docks were barely visible a few hundred yards down river.
Before long I was headed toward Andalusia, Illinois on highway 92 and starting to acclimate a bit to the cool morning air and I noticed the ambient engine air temperature gauge was still stuck on 40 degrees. A few miles West of Andalusia a tent camper along the rising backwater was cooking breakfast on a wood fire reminding me that I wasn’t the only one braving the cool fall temps. Shortly after the road turned south up a long, steep hill I took County Road 59 through Loud Thunder Park and cranked up the radio when the Steppenwolf tune came on.
At Illinois City I picked up 92 again and followed it toward Muscatine stopping short of crossing the river again and turned south toward New Boston. The New Boston Road is 15 miles of sweeping curves that run 15 miles along a ridge that, although today is nearly two miles from the current river, was the east bank of a huge flowage resulting from the great Wisconsin glacier melting 18 thousand years ago. Over time the location and route of the river changed and eventually became the mighty Mississippi river we know today.
Weekend mornings in October often start out with temps in the 30’s and this one was no exception. It was only 38 degrees with bright blue sunny skies at 8 AM. With two granddaughters due to arrive shortly after noon my two-wheel time was limited for the day, so after some coffee and a quick scan of the Quad City times I suited up with warm full leather protection, kissed my still sleeping wife goodbye and headed out for an enjoyable, solitary Sunday morning ride while the temperature finally edged a bit over 40 degrees..
The heated grips I was waiting for were still on back order so with a little redneck engineering I dug out a couple “Hot Paks”, rubber banded them around the grips for a little extra warmth, put on my insulated gloves and pointed my ride out the driveway.
As usual, I had no idea where I was headed so after a left turn toward the mighty Mississippi I decided a trip down the Great River Road to New Boston, Illinois seemed like as good an idea as any. Crossing over the Centennial Bridge from Davenport to Rock Island it was obvious the recent rains in Wisconsin and Minnesota were finally making their way down river as the water was nearly over the flood wall near John O’Donnell stadium and the Marquette boat docks were barely visible a few hundred yards down river.
Before long I was headed toward Andalusia, Illinois on highway 92 and starting to acclimate a bit to the cool morning air and I noticed the ambient engine air temperature gauge was still stuck on 40 degrees. A few miles West of Andalusia a tent camper along the rising backwater was cooking breakfast on a wood fire reminding me that I wasn’t the only one braving the cool fall temps. Shortly after the road turned south up a long, steep hill I took County Road 59 through Loud Thunder Park and cranked up the radio when the Steppenwolf tune came on.
At Illinois City I picked up 92 again and followed it toward Muscatine stopping short of crossing the river again and turned south toward New Boston. The New Boston Road is 15 miles of sweeping curves that run 15 miles along a ridge that, although today is nearly two miles from the current river, was the east bank of a huge flowage resulting from the great Wisconsin glacier melting 18 thousand years ago. Over time the location and route of the river changed and eventually became the mighty Mississippi river we know today.
After passing the “exit” to lock and dam #17 and a right turn at highway 17, two short miles later I found the road ended on the banks of the Mississippi in downtown New Boston, a quiet little town that at one time was home to a ferry that saved many people a 34 mile round trip to the other side of the river.
Not enough time to work my way the rest of the way down river and cross over at Burlington so I decided to retrace my route back to Muscatine. The scenery looked different on the same road in reverse and I found that with fresh knowledge of the road I was able to twist the throttle a bit more and take most of the sweeping curves at a much higher pace to get out ahead of a couple good old boys in a pickup truck that kept tailing me a bit too close after I left New Boston. Before long I was crossing the bridge into Muscatine and decided to stop for a photo of the bridge from the Mark Twain overlook. Sam Clemens (better known by his pen-name Mark Twain) actually lived in Muscatine in the summer of 1855.
Then it was on up the Iowa side of the Great River Road on highway 22. Like the Illinois river road, highway 22 has some sweeping curves and a few small hills but also runs much closer to the river. Not far upstream I stopped at the Fairport hatchery, the oldest fish hatchery in Iowa.
A A local DNR retiree carved a couple statues of fishermen and a large fish out of dead trees on the property and they are easily visible by the entrance to the hatchery.
Farther up the river toward the little city of Buffalo, the oldest settlement in Scott County, each of the numerous small parks on the bank of the river seemed to be full of “campers”, most of them the 30 ft plus aluminum type complete with heat and air conditioning. I wondered what the tent camper across the river would think of them!
After two and a half hours on the road the ambient air temp gauge was finally creeping up past 40, I was starting to warm up a bit more and decided to head toward home and some left over chili. It was a great 121 mile ride with plenty of solitude and fresh air. Although I do enjoy rides with a group I often prefer to go it alone and allow myself the privilege of turning whichever way I want when straight ahead is not an option. Whatever you prefer, try this route sometime and enjoy the view.
After two and a half hours on the road the ambient air temp gauge was finally creeping up past 40, I was starting to warm up a bit more and decided to head toward home and some left over chili. It was a great 121 mile ride with plenty of solitude and fresh air. Although I do enjoy rides with a group I often prefer to go it alone and allow myself the privilege of turning whichever way I want when straight ahead is not an option. Whatever you prefer, try this route sometime and enjoy the view.
To see a map of the route click here: http://rideplanner.harley-davidson.com/rideplanner/road.jsp?roadId=357823&locale=en_US
Ride Safe!
