Taking the Pilot's Wheel
July 27-30, 2019
The trip continues following all roads with the pilot’s wheel –an iconic representation of river travel, harkening back to the days when riverboats dominated the waters of the Mississippi River. While you’ll still see plenty of barges—and even some classic paddleboats—on the river, pilot’s wheel logo appears on signs up and down the river, helping motorists identify sections of the Great River Road. The Great River Road is not one continuous stretch of road but rather a collection of federal- and state-controlled highways that take travelers along the Mississippi River through 10 states.
I mentioned in the last post an island city. I pass through Sabula on my way to a campsite in Savanna, Illinois. This morning I take a drive back to Sabula, Iowa. When you think “island getaway,” Iowa is almost definitely the last place that would pop to mind. But it wasn't always an island. It was physically connected to Iowa until 1939, when Lock and Dam #13 was built between Clinton, Iowa and Fulton, Illinois. The dam permanently submerged the lowland area to the west of the town, leaving Sabula physically cut off from the state. Sabula has a long history that stretches back long before the Army Corps of Engineers started building dams on the Mississippi.
A causeway connects Sabula to the Iowa mainland. I cross back over to Illinois and take a wander through Savanna. Savanna is a vibrant little river town nestled between the Mississippi River and the Bluffs of the Driftless area in Northwest Illinois. Settled in 1828 by explorers from Galena, Savanna is one of the oldest towns in Illinois. Savanna began as a Steamboat stop for runs between Galena and St. Louis. It quickly grew as a logging and shipping port and eventually a Railroad hub. You can still watch the barges being loaded on our River Front as they are sent down the River. It is a definite stop off for motorcycles taking the river roads. The roar of their engines announce a pack of bikes passing through or stopping at some of the fun eateries and pubs.
I cross back over to the Iowa side, moving on down the river on County Rd 99. Tonight, I will overnight at Baxter, Winery in Nauvoo, Illinois. Crossing over to Illinois happens in Fort Madison, Iowa. On the river is the Midwest's oldest American military garrison on the Upper Mississippi. It is a step back in time but unfortunately, I didn't have the time to dig in to what life was like at a U.S. fur trading post . There is much learn about Iowa's involvement in the War of 1812. Another time.
Amtrak has a station in Fort Madison that serves its Southwest Chief route with stops daily in each direction between Union Station in Chicago, Illinois and Union Station in Los Angeles, California. Fort Madison is the only Southwest Chief route stop within the state of Iowa.
I arrive at Baxter Winery in Nauvoo. Baxter’s Vineyards is the oldest winery in the state of Illinois. The winery was established in 1857 by Emile and Annette Baxter. I can not say that I liked their wines. I did like their bubbly and enjoyed a glass while listening to a wonderful guitarist on their patio before settling in for the night and listening to a gentle rain while drifting off to the sleep.
Daybreak gets me on the road again and I want to at least see this unusual small river town. In late 1839, arriving Latter Day Saints bought the small town of Commerce and in April 1840 it was renamed Nauvoo by Joseph Smith, who led the Latter Day Saints to Nauvoo to escape conflict with the state government in Missouri. You all know about Joseph Smith, right? By 1844 Nauvoo's population had swollen to 12,000, rivaling the size of Chicago” at the time. After Joseph Smith's death in 1844, continued violence from surrounding non-Mormons forced most Latter-Day Saints to leave Nauvoo. Most of these followers, led by Brigham Young, emigrated to the Great Salt Lake Valley. In 1849, Icarians moved to the Nauvoo area to start up a utopian socialist commune based on the ideals of French philosopher Étienne Cabet. The colony had over 500 members at its peak, but Cabet's death in 1856 led some members to leave the colony. In the early and mid 20th century Nauvoo was primarily a Roman Catholic town, and a plurality of the population today is Methodist. However, the town operates history tourism. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints owns most of the other historic sites in Nauvoo, including the homes of Brigham Young. Thousands flock to this town for their yearly outdoor musical called the Pageant.
The plan has been to drive the Great River Road all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. But there is to be a change in the trajectory. Gerard calls me to tell me his aunt has made her transition at 103 years old. He will be pallbearer in Minnesota. I decide my next stop outside of St. Louis, I will need to reroute this trip to get home and care for kitties while Gerard hops a plane to be with family. I will be staying with Tom and Lori O'Toole, my brother-in-law Matt's brother. They graciously open their home so I can use internet and find my next route and places to stay for the last few days of this trip. Tom and I are able to share teacher stories as well as our experiences with both having had severe bike accidents. Me on a Harley and Tom on a bicycle. I get to enjoy dinner out with their son's family and the sweetest granddaughter. i am so grateful for this reprieve! Instead of two weeks meandering along the gulf coast, I will now be cutting across Kentucky and Alabama before getting back to Florida.
But before arriving in Pacific, Missouri, I do my best to savor rivertowns along the way. I wasn't thinking about Hannibel, Missouri. But here I am, I have to explore a bit of Samuel Clemens aka Mark Twain's hometown. I soon realize there is so much more to see and do here. As long as "where I'm from" is Minnesota, I think there will be many more times I will "pilot" the Great River Road.
Onward,
Catherine
There are basically two types of people. People who accomplish things, and people who claim to have accomplished things. The first group is less crowded.
Mark Twain