50-Mile Mississippi Greenway Weedend Bike Tour

 

I just made the longest bike tour 50 miles in my lifetime last weekend, a windy and chilly late November day with the low at 30s. Somehow I become to love the thrill of hitting the road with my bike. I believe the thrill is caused by several new discoveries.   

First off,  I discovered the  windproof feature of new high-tech sportswear, an area that changes just as rapidly as the software industry. Second, the city scenes I wouldn’t be able to discover in a car or on a metro train; and lastly, the sense of control, and the novelty of finding out the history of the city where I reside in.  Twenty years ago when I was at graduate school,  a fellow classmate rode bike even in snowy Cleveland winter nights. I thought he was nuts.  Well, now I become a bit nutty myself, cycling on a windy chilly day along the Mississippi river northbound. 

I discovered something that I never thought of. In the U.S.A, a country on the wheels, there is a cycling lane starting from my home doorsteps all the way to  the gateway arch park in downtown, then continue on to  the riverfront trail, or the Mississippi greenway for nearly 16 miles. Additionally,  the area near the riverbank along the trail is actually the city’s dumping and recycling ground.  There are many abandoned things or marginalized unfortunate people. There are recycled helicopters in a somewhat rundown midtown neighborhood,  and  abandoned buildings with murals and graffiti just off the gateway arch park. At the vicinity of these abandoned building, homeless people set up their tents to  brace up for the coming cold winter.  Along the railway road which runs parallel to the the river levee, there are recycled and crushed  two-dimensional cars, waiting to be recycled heavy industrial equipment such as cranes, crane extractors, or even train carriages.  On the other side of the  levee, adjacent to the brink of the river, there are bridge parts and crane excavators  hanging out together in groups at the river bank. They are so harmonious together; it rekindled my childhood memory of  water ox gracefully grazing over the banks of paddy fields.  Over the 15.8 mile-long trail, there are also several gates on the levee. I cannot quite figure out their utility. Perhaps when the Mississippi river floods,  the gates will be closed to prevent people from getting too dangerously close to the river? In the middle of the trail, there are also several abandoned watch towers. Are they used to watch over the river water level?  or could they simply be a resting place for workers who build and disassemble various bridges over the river?

I did not see a single soul using these bridge building materials and equipment though, only crowds of crows flying in circles around the tower tip. The view is so desolate and bleak, yet it is the result of human activities, because this sprawling industrial dumping ground becomes closer and closer to the nature’s original look as I cycled northward and the Arch gradually shrank and became almost invisible. Then, I suddenly realized, if the cranes and crane extractors were working and rumbling, the abandoned buildings were restored to their glorious past, the trails were full of pedestrians, filled with laughters, then the bleakness would all vanish.  These Colossus’ faded glorious past and their current desolateness stroke the cord of sorrow and melancholia in me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After all, all man-made things have a limited life  no matter how grand and splendid they are, and despite that they often outlive their creators. These  grand buildings, bridges, huge crane extractors, railways and all the abandoned things flooded into my view and caused a pathetic symphony in my heart. Nothing is permanent, as ancient philosophers lamented. And, men cannot escape this as well. No matter how rich and how influential they are when alive; 

essentially their glories will fade away and become buried in historic relics.  Returning abandoned man-made things to  the earth and making them useful again may well be  much more expensive than making them.  However, it is not entirely so. As I cycled, I had a glimpse of a mountain of black iron sand. Not far from it were piles of deformed cars and trucks. As least, some man-made no-organic things such as vehicles  are not too difficult to return to the mother earth.

Starting from the North riverfront park, those eyesores mostly disappeared, coming into view is  the big river and remains of abandoned bridges half way into the river. At the end of the trail is the old chains of rock bridge. After abandoned for many years, it was reopened to pedestrians.  Standing on the bridge, I saw two light houses standing firm and tall in the middle of the turbulent Mississippi river. One appeared older and grander with a surrounding deck, while the other looked smaller and newer, and was probably still in use.   The two lighthouses are  like the two parallel bridges. No cars run on the old chain of rocks bridge  but pedestrians; only cars and trucks run on the new chain of rocks bridge links but no pedestrians. Here, the past and the present, the old and the new coexist peacefully and naturally. Who says when one is in, the other must be out? It is the memory of the old that marks time, the existential of us, and the history, and provides a solid consolation to overcome the emptiness and the  nothingness.

The sign above the old bridge says it all,  “old historic US 66”. I’ve heard of historic houses and buildings but not historic roads.  The road I cycled through that starts from Chouteau Street  off the southeast corner of the famous forest park and ends at  the old bridge is part of the old Historic US 66 that connected Chicago to the west coast! It is old!  Ironically, a young country such as the U.S.A  emphasizes history far more than countries with a long history, e.g., China, my motherland.   Since the economic takeoff, many old buildings are now restored to their old past looks, but I have not heard of historic roads. There are many old roads that were built for pedestrians have disappeared, destroyed or return to the nature after the country became more wealthy, and cars replaces foot, bicycles as the main transportation mode.   

Since 1986  the St. Louis segment of US 66 has been repurposed. The Chouteau street  segment starting off the Forest Park up to the Gateway Arch Park  still serves as a  very busy city road.  However, the major chunk of it, 15.8 miles, starting just off the gateway park in downtown St. Louis up to the old chains of rock bridge becomes a recreational riverfront trail for cyclers, runners, and walkers.   The  old rock chain bridge was abandoned for well over 30 years and then reopened in 1999 for pedestrians. Henceforth, it became a sort of museum of the last industrial era, reminding us the glorious industrialization era of St. Louis.  The historic US 66 retreated from the role of the main road gradually as waterway transportation became less important.  Finally, it became historic after an extensive interstate highway network was developed in the U.S..    People and roads, regardless how drastically different they are,    Likewise,  mid-aged government officials in China, once they reach age 50 or even younger at 45, they will be forced to semi-retire and pushed backward to  much less important second-tier positions. The purpose is to make way for the booming generation, those who were born between 1963 and 1978. 

The link between the Gateway Arch Park and the Riverfront Trail head is blocked, perhaps to make room for homeless people where they station in tents. In  this area there are many abandoned old buildings with murals and graffitis. These buildings help block chilly northern wind and also provide some privacy for those less fortunate people.  There are also many portable toilets in the area as well to maintain the sanitary.

 

 

 

 

Return Journey

The day is short in late November. After watching torrents in the river for half an hour or so, I decided to head back as it was a quarter past three in the afternoon.  The Sun would set around one quarter past four. It was a windy day. My newly purchased jacket certainly helped blocking the wind. By the time I reached the gateway arch area, it was dusk, the favorite time to watch the sky with sunset glow. Just as I arrived at  the Eads bridge; a carriage pulled by a tall white horse appeared under its archway,  basked in the sunset glow. Totally unprepared, I was stunned by the view.  For a moment, I was disoriented and driven into a trance , passing through time tunnel and arriving at the 19th century. The carriage driver was an all-dressed up gentleman with white bears, while the passengers were an old couple travelers also well-dressed. The photographer in me quickly woke up. I dismounted my bike, went to the rear rack, grabbed my Sony A7 Riii out of the bag, and started to shoot at the carriage.  Fortunately, the carriage made a U-turn, heading the same direction as I did.  For the next 5 to 8 minutes, I followed the carriage and shoot photos. This was such an opportune time. I was almost in an ecstasy. After this frantic episode of photographing, it became completely dark.  I’d better hurry up and ride my way home. This was the first time I rid a bike at night.  I was a bit nervous as my cycling jacket is suitable for everyday wear as well; it does not have eye-catching color, and it only has three small patches of reflectors in the  lower back and the top of the sleeves.

I arrived home a few minutes past 5pm and it was completely dark outside.  The 50-mile ride was a bit out of my physical range, and I was struggling in the last 5 miles .  However, I made it, the first longest bike ride in my life.