"As modern technology continues to intrude upon the land, I offer in this book a reconsideration of the values of simple elegance and craftsmanship embodied by the Illinois and Michigan Canal."
--Jim Redd, The Illinois and Michigan Canal: A Contemporary Perspective in Essays and Photographs

The simple elegance of the bicycle conveyed thirteen cyclists on a 220-mile odyssey spanning the length of the I & M Canal during the May 2000 Chicago Critical Mass.

Despite a persistent rain, nearly 200 cyclists assembled at the Picasso for the start of the ride. We wheeled out of Daley Plaza at about 6pm and headed towards Chicago's most egregious example of how "modern technology continues to intrude upon the land." We entered Lake Shore Drive at Monroe Street and quickly took all four southbound lanes. Even though automobile traffic continued to lumber along in the northbound lanes, our unencumbered access and leisurely enjoyment of the space was a taste of what of a car-free lakefront might be like. For information on efforts to liberate the lakefront from the lock hold of LSD, see the Campaign for a Free and Clear Lakefront's new web site (http://www.ForeverFreeAndClear.org). We left LSD at Balbo and than proceeded west on Roosevelt. At this point, a cycle cop joined our ranks. At first, he tried to stop the mass from going through a green light. As he quickly realized the futility of this maneuver, he decided to facilitate rather than impede our progress. He was a nice enough chap, though a bit hyperactive. As we came upon red lights, he rode into the middle of busy intersections and ordered traffic to halt so the mass could pass through. I'd never seen anyone attempt such a dangerous corking stunt. Meanwhile, a paddy wagon joined the rear of the mass. Some of us at the front of the mass considered not going through the red lights recklessly corked by our friend in blue, but with the increased police presence, movement seemed prudent.

As we turned off of Canal Street onto Canalport (anybody recognize a theme?), we entered a new police district and the police presence abated. It felt good to leave our caffeine-addled escort behind. We then proceeded up Ashland to the Chicago River, which is the point of origin for the I&M Canal. We occupied all lanes of Ashland for a few minutes while contemplating the significance of the site and then proceeded up the Canalport bicycle path along the Chicago River. The path terminated at a dusty truck parking lot where we made our way up a secret ramp.

The ramp brought us to a closed section of Damen Ave. where a bridge over the Stevenson is being reconstructed. We spent about 15 minutes enjoying various car-free activities on the closed road and then headed north and west through Pilsen, to meet up with our departure route for Starved Rock at Ogden and California. After a few teary-eyed moments (discretely camouflaged by the raindrops) of bidding our comrades good-bye, thirteen of us split off from the rest of the mass and sped southwest down Ogden.

Gareth and John's route cleverly extricated us from the tangle of southwest suburbs via an abandoned road precariously crumbling between two quarries and a hidden bikepath that was perfect for night cruising without lights. Forty miles from Daley Plaza, we wheeled into Lemont at about midnight and made our way to crash at Ted's house-- a friend of Dan's.

Gareth and Adrian cycled on to join the Kettle Moraine contingent, saying they didn't want to spend the weekend with the "old group" (see Gareth's ride description for details of that journey). We bought frozen pizzas from a nearby supermarket and nearly burned down the house of our gracious host. Always remember to put a pan under those pizzas to keep the oven from becoming an inferno. After lots of pizza, beer and smoke, we all collapsed.

The rain had subsided by the time of our 7am wake-up call. After a quick breakfast and an inspirational canal reading by Jim, we thanked Ted for his hospitality and wheeled south. We joined up with the Canal trail in Lockport where we came across an old iron mill in ruins (Joliet Iron Works) and a number of locks along the way. We lost the canal around Joliet and joined back up with it just west of town, where the old tow path serves as a continuos bikeway for about 60 miles to the terminus of the canal in LaSalle.

Somehow, the forecasts for torrential rain never came to be. Instead we were blessed with gray skies and cool weather-- ideal for cycling. Jim told us more about canal history along the way and we explored many of the locks and aqueducts, admiring the craftsmanship and the crumbling and preserved beauty of the stonework. Later in the afternoon we got separated into a few subgroups as some of us experienced mechanical problems (Julie gets the prize for flats above and beyond the call of duty) and we clustered around different paces. We all agreed to meet at Duffy's, a famous wateringhole just outside of Starved Rock in Utica, before proceeding to our campsite.

By 6:30pm, we had all made the 70+ miles and were enjoying refreshments before climbing the steepest grade of the ride that would take us the last 3 miles to our campsite. Despite road weary legs and heavy panniers, we all completed the series of switch backs that brought us from the floor of the Illinois River valley to our campsite atop the bluffs. We got to camp just in time to set up tents, get a fire going and make dinner before the rain set in. Gin cooked a scrumptious dinner for us and we enjoyed smoores and lively conversation before turning in. Wild raccoons repeatedly attacked our camp during the night, but thanks to Rita's tireless defense, the varmints only had a quarter bag of marshmallows to show for their efforts.

Sunday was planned to be our rest day and we spent a good part of it lounging around in the luxury of the Starved Rock Lodge--a grandiose WPA-era structure of fieldstones and logs. The lodge has a famous Sunday brunch that seemed appropriately indulgent in view of our recent feat. We were treated as celebrities as Dan charmed the locals with tales of our harrowing achievement. After multiple trips to the buffet area, a few of us snuck into the lodge spa and eased our tired muscles in the hot tub and sauna. This sedentary sneakiness somehow renewed our appetites so it was back to the buffet.

At about this time, Matt called the lost and found session to order. Using his skills honed on the Rat Patrol (see http://www.wurlington-bros.com/~wbros) at the back of our pack, he and Sue had found three important items lost during the previous day's ride. Thanks to Matt's diligence, honesty, and keen eye, all lost items were returned to their rightful owners.

Following round two at the buffet area, we waddled out to our bikes and rode five miles down the trail to LaSalle where the canal terminates. Jim showed us a secret abandoned ghost town off the path that contained ruined lime kilns where cement was made in the 1800’s (Blackball Mines) There were also bat caves, and lots of poison ivy.

Farther along, at Split Rock, we read a plaque about how the automobile made the old electrical interurban rail lines, which paralleled the canal path in places, obsolete. There was even a story that the interurban railway required two transfers and enduring the company of other passengers to make it from Chicago to Starved Rock. We learned that we've all come a long way and thanked the automobile industry for providing us with comfortable, isolated convenience and helping dismantle the barbaric, primitive interurban system.

Grant took us to a restaurant in LaSalle famous for cookies. Sue and Matt started cycling back to Chicago and the rest of us went back to camp where Eric cooked up some hearty and delicious mango/lentil burritos. We enjoyed another campfire and all retired except for Jim, who was engaged by the conversation of our neighbors for much of the night.

Monday was time to head home. A number of us decided to ride home in Grant's van (he was picking it up from his parent's house, 30 miles west of Starved Rock) mostly due to equipment problems. John, Jim, Gin and I left camp at about 8am with the intention of cycling all the way back to Chicago (110 miles) in one day. We first hightailed it to Ottawa (about 10 miles) for a nice greasy breakfast. We kept a fast pace on the roads and made it to Morris by noon. There we stopped at the new Fire House brewpub where I happen to know the brewmaster. We enjoyed complimentary refreshing glasses of weiss beer and a quick tour of the brewery.

After Morris, we took the bikepath and kept a pace of about 17mph, making it to Joliet at 2:30pm, about 60 miles from our starting point at Starved Rock. We looked for a place for lunch in Joliet but everything was closed. After a local greeted Jim by tossing a bottle of hand lotion at him from a passing car, he succinctly summed up the groups feelings towards the town: "Let's get the hell out of Joliet."

Ten miles later, we found ourselves in the quaint town of Lockport, famished and crabby. Gin remembered a nice little sandwich shop she had visited on last year's trip so we headed there. Upon entering Gin asked the sallow young clerk what type of sandwiches were available. Not recognizing the gravity of our hunger, the clerk replied, "I don't know." Summoning her last bit of patience and blood sugar, Gin somehow resisted throttling the distracted youth and inquired, "What the fuck do you mean you don't know?." Mid-level management quickly intervened and we were informed that except for two slices of turkey, the cupboards were bare. We thanked them for their kind efforts and went to look for Jim, who had continued on in search of another restaurant. Meanwhile, Jim had struck the jackpot-- he found of a fancy Mexican restaurant, that happened to open on Memorial Day. Moments later we all had Margaritas and burritos in hand and, somehow, the world didn't seem like such a bad place. At the end of lunch who should walk in the restaurant but Matt and Sue, who had started to make their way back to Chicago the day before. We traded stories and combined posses for the homestretch back to Chicago.

John once again led us through the snarling southwest suburbs, and we entered the city just in time to watch a beautiful sunset as we made our way up Ogden and then north to D&D liquors. On the way, we happened upon Noah who told us about the rest of the Roscoe Village/Logan Square ride, while we related stories from the world's longest CM ride. In the end, as we sipped our celebratory drinks on Jim's patio and recounted tales of the weekend and our 110-mile day, one thing was clear: the simple elegance of the bicycle had triumphed over the intrusions of modern technology. We toasted our accomplishment and drank to future victories.