Trans Am, Day 35: Ullin, IL to Cape Girardeau, MO

I planned a short day, and got an early start, for my Mississippi River crossing.

Miles before I got to the river, I could see flooding all around me, sometimes coming up to the edge of the roads, which were slightly raised.

Finally, as I descended Grapevine Road around mile 20, I could see that the road was under water.

There was a dump truck and a road grader going back and forth, doing some kind of work, but I stopped for a while to see if anyone was crossing it in a car. Some men in a work truck came by and I asked if there was a better way across, and they said no. Finally, after a few minutes, I saw a couple SUVs plow through, and it didn’t look very deep.

I walked up to a couple on a motorcycle talking to some people in a passenger car, and asked them what they were going to do. The people in the passenger car were going to do it, so we watched them. It looked passable. But the motorcycle couple decided to cancel their ride and go home. They declined to have their picture taken, and the man was a little testy about it. I decided they were probably cheating on their spouses 😲.

Mindful of hub and bottom bracket damage, I took it really slowly, and stayed in the center of the road, which was slightly higher due to the crown. I had to pull over when the road grader made a pass, and he sent a wave of water about a foot high over my shoes, bike and legs. The water was warm, but splashed everything, including my water bottles, so I decided not to drink from them again (cholera, E. coli, etc.).

A couple miles later, 675E was also flooded, and only one lane was open. Traffic was really backed up, but I made my way to the front, using the shoulder before it was our lanes’ turn, and I got in front of a semi tractor trailer. I hoped he was patient, because I was going to have to take the lane. As soon as I turned onto IL 140 (the road to the bridge), I waved him past and gave him a big wave, and he gave me a friendly honk back.

Because of the rhythm of the one lane road closure, everyone in my group had passed me, and I was alone on the approach to the bridge, but I knew there was going to be a line of impatient drivers in a minute, so I hurried to the base of the bridge.

Then things got tricky. The westbound lanes were closed, and westbound traffic was sharing the eastbound lanes. However, there were spray-painted signs and “Dan Henry’s” telling cyclists to keep right, so I did. I had the entire westbound bridge to myself, which was delightful. But when I got to the other end, it was clear the bridge was closed for a reason — the lanes were just GONE on the west side. So I had to take all my bags off my bike, hoist it over the concrete barriers, and put it back together on the other side, on a narrow one-lane bridge. The workers just watched me with a mix of amusement and maybe a little disgust, and no friendliness. When a car was coming, I flattened myself against the barrier and waved them through. It was a little harrowing.

But I made it!

Cape Girardeau immediately rises from the water, so no more flooding. At least for now. I am glad. I have a long day here, so I am going to sterilize my bottles, lube my chain and wash my shoes and clothes.

Addendum:

I am struggling to find the words to describe what happened to me this afternoon. Now is when I wish I had my wife’s writing skills!

I am staying at Auburn Place Hotel and Suites in Cape Girardeau, MO.

I noticed there was a Target on the other side of Interstate 55.

I asked the hotel clerk if it made sense to try to walk over there, and he said, “No.” It wasn’t a lukewarm response.

But I really wanted to do it, so I ignored his advice.

It wasn’t terrible getting over there. There are no sidewalks, but it wasn’t very far, and I stayed on the grass as much as possible. The overpass over I-55 didn’t have a grassy shoulder, so I just hugged the guardrail and made eye contact with drivers, especially the ones turning right onto the Interstate, so they wouldn’t cut the corner short.

I made it to Target, got the thing I went there for, and turned to leave.

When I left, it was raining pretty hard, but it was warm rain, and I knew I had dry clothes in my hotel room, so I just started walking.

I was a little nervous because I would now have my back to the cars, but no matter.

Then the rain almost stopped.

A few moments later, I heard some thunder.

And suddenly, the skies opened. Within seconds, I was completely drenched.

Now I was on the overpass.

And the wind started.

It started as a stiff wind, so now the rain was hitting me on my left side. Huge drops.

And the wind picked up. And picked up some more.

Finally, it was blowing so hard I had to remove my glasses, because they were about to get blown off.

Then I had to clutch the guardrail, because I could no longer stand in the wind, which was threatening to, literally, blow me off the overpass.

Around me, cars were just stopping, with their emergency blinkers on, because they couldn’t see.

There was no hail, but the force of the sideways rain made each rain drop feel like a needle prick.

I thought, “Maybe this is a tornado?”

Hand over hand, I made it to the end of the guardrail.

When I got to the grass, I was prepared to just slide down the hill on my rear, but I was able to make it to the side entrance of the hotel.

I could see people gathered at the windows and talking about this sudden outburst. I heard the word “scary.”

When I got to my hotel room, I changed into dry clothes, then wrang out my wet ones and put them in the hotel dryer.

Then I went to tell my story to the hotel clerk.

By this time, it was barely sprinkling.

So now, Cape Girardeau, Missouri will live on in my mind for TWO things: Rush Limbaugh’s home-town, and the place where I had my scariest encounter of my cross-country tour (so far).

All kidding aside, I am SO GLAD I was not on my bike when this happened!