How to tell if you are going downhill.

   I love to ride my bike. I am not into racing nor am I a back trails kinda gal. You won't find some fancy and expensive bike in my garage. I don't even own bike shorts. But I do have a helmet, some worn out bike gloves and love to pedal. So I was thrilled when we had the chance on our recent vacation to take our bikes out for a spin on The Tunnel Hill State bike trail in southern Illinois. It is one of those wonderful Rails to Trails projects that have cropped up everywhere, offering some of the coolest scenery and nicest trails to be found on foot or bike.

   The day was mild and sunny. We had a great breakfast and were all pumped up and full of energy.  Armed with plenty of water and our helmets and bike gloves, we joyfully embarked on our adventure along the shaded gravel trail. Quickly we were rewarded. Looming before us was the Tunnel, built in 1929. Laughing, we zipped on in and sped on our way making train noises. About half way through the tunnel I thought that it might have been a good idea to have bike lights or a flashlight. It was kinda dark, even if you could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

View approaching the tunnel

   Undaunted, we whirred on through and into the cool air of the narrow canyon that lay just beyond the tunnel. Faster and faster we went, riding our bikes in high gear, feeling the wind in our faces and soaking in the sights. We crossed a towering rail bridge with dizzying views. We passed

Trestle bridge

rock cliffs with trailing vines. There were smaller bridges crossing creeks with water dancing merrily along. We saw beautiful flowers, quiet deer and colorful lizards. There was plenty of shade and the trail was well tended. Being in the middle of the week, we passed very few people. Being out in the countryside, we encountered only one cross road. The rest was just exhilarating, unbroken bike trail.

   I felt just like that woman in the commercial on TV, riding her bike, face wreathed in smiles with her dark hair streaming out behind her in the breeze. Except that I have short brown hair and wear a helmet. Well, just imagine my short brown hair flapping about under my helmet. Same thing. I was wearing a goofy smile and pedaling easily in the highest set of gears.

   Something that a person should keep in mind: If you are pedaling easily in high gear and enjoying the wind tousling your hair, you are probably going downhill.

   It may not LOOK like downhill. The grade might be so slight that the trail LOOKS level. But let me assure you, you are going downhill. And that means after about 5 or so miles when you decide that as a family you are ready to return to your vehicle and go have lunch (this was, after all, just a short bike trip), you will have to pedal uphill all the way back to your vehicle. The entire 5 miles. And slight, unnoticeable grade though it may be, it is still uphill. All the way.

  At first, maintaining the high gear seemed okay, but after awhile, lower gears were a bit easier. Perhaps essential is a better word.

   I have to admit, there seemed to be more sunny spots than I remembered. Perhaps it was because I was now going at a slower pace. Also, there was not as much wind trying to tousle my sweaty, short brown hair under my helmet. Which was too bad, cause I seemed to have developed an itch right on the top of my head.

On the home stretch!

   I did not remember crossing quite so many bridges. I think I developed bridge butt. Or maybe it was the onset of saddle sores. Bike seats are called saddles for a reason, right? For the life of me, I
could not remember what that stupid woman in the commercial was trying to sell. Nor could I remember the fantastic railway bridge being so far away from the cool canyon that lead up to the tunnel. But after much gear shifting, I finally found myself plodding along toward the tunnel with the light at the other end. Such a welcome sight, that meant the truck was not much further. We had nearly reached our destination!

   Then, as I started through the tunnel, I remembered that I had thought earlier it would have been a good idea to have a bike light, or a flashlight. Since we embarked on our journey, there had been little opportunity to obtain either. This was a bike trail, located in the countryside, after all. There were descriptions of the canyon walls and the deer and stuff earlier, remember? No stores. There had been a house along the way that advertised water and soda, but since we carried our own water, there had been no need to stop.

   About half-way through the tunnel, I could not see walls or ground or ceiling, just the light at the other end, which is quite disorientating, and I began to weave a little. Was it this dark when I passed the other way? Thank heavens there is no other traffic in the tunnel for me to weave into, but now I began to worry and wobble a little more. What if I hit a rock and go careening off my bike or crash into the wall right in the middle. I would then have to walk like Igor to get out of the tunnel. (I have always commented that I walk like Frankenstein due to a drop foot, but I believe my gait is actually more like Igor the assistant.) Since we were only going on a short bike ride and not a walk, I left my walk aid back at the camper. If I crashed, I would have to grope about in the darkness and hope I stumbled across my bike so that I could drag it out of the tunnel. I had a brief vision of me, step drag, step drag, step drag, pulling the mangled remains of my beloved bike behind my bloody and fatigued body.

   Fortunately there was no incident or accident as I approached the light at the end of the tunnel! The floor and walls and ceiling of the tunnel materialized once more and I was back on the well maintained (if not exactly level) gravel trail, slowly moving along (I had long since given up enthusiastic pedaling) the home stretch to our vehicle.

   My daughter and I celebrated our trip by dismounting our bikes onto rubber band legs that no longer seemed to work properly and walked our bikes to the tailgate where we waited for my husband to load them in the back. As we cooled in the air-conditioned comfort of the truck, I asked her if she enjoyed the trip, despite the uphill journey back. She nodded with a bright smile on her face.

It was worth it! But next time I will have a bike headlight.