 Downtown Rock Island |
 Loud Thunder SP near Illinois City
Racoon city |
21/7/2011, Moline to Loud Thunder Park.
Riding the 7m to Rock Island was a pleasure till I got to RI, there was a train show on there. People from all over the planet had decended on the place, with roads closed etc.
Heading to my $35 a night motel was taking me further and further from town. Phoning the owner, I explained how I wanted to walk to town that evening and this didn’t suit me, she was fine with that.
The route to the motel took me through an area that had seen better days. The main businesses that were still open were pawn shops and those offering pre pay day loans, there were vacant dilapidated premises everywhere.
A one story shopping complex with a hugely ambitious carparpark with no more than twenty cars present came into view .Maybe three shops and a supermarket were present. The whole deal was in a poor stae of repair. I grabbed a drink at the supermarket. Most people about were of ethnic or coloured backgrounds, they were all friendly and amicable.
Some of the closed businesses had signage remaining, looking at the services they once offered, it was easy to see why they were closed. They were businesses that only boom times could have supported, like a pet gift shop.
Rock Island was full of train buffs who had booked most of the accommadation , I decided to give the night out a miss and headed on .
It’s amazing, I am writing this two days after the events occurred and my recall of the day is dodgey. Ok, so I guess from Rock Island to Loud Thunder Park must have been fairly mundane, I know it was hotter than hell. Give me a week and I will be able to tell you anything you like about the day.
Arriving at the park, distant thunder (aptly named) was heard. I took this as a que to pitch the tent. Having done so I walked down the bank for a swim. The water didn’t offer much relief ,it was at least 27℃. Being of a brown colour, offering visibility of no more than 2 or three hundred mm. One would be reluctant to enter such an aquatic environment on the Clarence or other rivers due to the presence of the bull shark. Subconsciously, knowing there are no nasties within, makes for a pleasant swim.
Five weeks have now passed since I left Coffs. In that time my only contact with friends has been verbal. Typing this, it occurred to me that what I miss the most is being around people I know well. Though I am interacting with people all day , these liaisons are only fleeting engagements. The solitude of being alone is not a problem, knowing that being around old friends in the future will be appreciated all the more.
At this point in time, the feelings of freedom and not knowing what each day may bring more than compensate for for this emotion.
Trains and their horns are such a prominant part of the visual and audible environment here. They use their horns everywhere and can be heard in most places. The sound of the horn is a kind of warm sound that conjures up the glory days of rail when the drivers used to blow their horn to say hi. It still happens here.
Just the other day the Polish guy at Pleasant Creek CG waved to the train as it went past the back of the park, a reply was heard from the locomotive, it was pulling at least a kilometer of carriages. Hearing this took me back to NZ days, I was 4 or 5, when on Sunday mornings they had childrens stories on the radio. One tale that I still remember was Sparky and the Talking Train.
Seeing this mans wave acknowledged by an object of such romanticism was another etching of this journey.
These blasts can be heard for miles, they are used at all level crossings of which there are plenty. Their note portrays a mood of the landscape between you and the train. More often than not, signifying all is well in this world.
The evening was pleasant after the shower of rain, with the temperature somewhere in the twenties. Making a couple of strong brews of tea I nested.
During the night, I heard cans and bottles being rolled around. ,I knew they were racoons about and being so comfortable, just opted to yell at them from the nest in a tone often attuned to dogs that are not behaving. They weren’t dogs!!, and they had no idea of domestication....................
Riding the 7m to Rock Island was a pleasure till I got to RI, there was a train show on there. People from all over the planet had decended on the place, with roads closed etc.
Heading to my $35 a night motel was taking me further and further from town. Phoning the owner, I explained how I wanted to walk to town that evening and this didn’t suit me, she was fine with that.
The route to the motel took me through an area that had seen better days. The main businesses that were still open were pawn shops and those offering pre pay day loans, there were vacant dilapidated premises everywhere.
A one story shopping complex with a hugely ambitious carparpark with no more than twenty cars present came into view .Maybe three shops and a supermarket were present. The whole deal was in a poor stae of repair. I grabbed a drink at the supermarket. Most people about were of ethnic or coloured backgrounds, they were all friendly and amicable.
Some of the closed businesses had signage remaining, looking at the services they once offered, it was easy to see why they were closed. They were businesses that only boom times could have supported, like a pet gift shop.
Rock Island was full of train buffs who had booked most of the accommadation , I decided to give the night out a miss and headed on .
It’s amazing, I am writing this two days after the events occurred and my recall of the day is dodgey. Ok, so I guess from Rock Island to Loud Thunder Park must have been fairly mundane, I know it was hotter than hell. Give me a week and I will be able to tell you anything you like about the day.
Arriving at the park, distant thunder (aptly named) was heard. I took this as a que to pitch the tent. Having done so I walked down the bank for a swim. The water didn’t offer much relief ,it was at least 27℃. Being of a brown colour, offering visibility of no more than 2 or three hundred mm. One would be reluctant to enter such an aquatic environment on the Clarence or other rivers due to the presence of the bull shark. Subconsciously, knowing there are no nasties within, makes for a pleasant swim.
Five weeks have now passed since I left Coffs. In that time my only contact with friends has been verbal. Typing this, it occurred to me that what I miss the most is being around people I know well. Though I am interacting with people all day , these liaisons are only fleeting engagements. The solitude of being alone is not a problem, knowing that being around old friends in the future will be appreciated all the more.
At this point in time, the feelings of freedom and not knowing what each day may bring more than compensate for for this emotion.
Trains and their horns are such a prominant part of the visual and audible environment here. They use their horns everywhere and can be heard in most places. The sound of the horn is a kind of warm sound that conjures up the glory days of rail when the drivers used to blow their horn to say hi. It still happens here.
Just the other day the Polish guy at Pleasant Creek CG waved to the train as it went past the back of the park, a reply was heard from the locomotive, it was pulling at least a kilometer of carriages. Hearing this took me back to NZ days, I was 4 or 5, when on Sunday mornings they had childrens stories on the radio. One tale that I still remember was Sparky and the Talking Train.
Seeing this mans wave acknowledged by an object of such romanticism was another etching of this journey.
These blasts can be heard for miles, they are used at all level crossings of which there are plenty. Their note portrays a mood of the landscape between you and the train. More often than not, signifying all is well in this world.
The evening was pleasant after the shower of rain, with the temperature somewhere in the twenties. Making a couple of strong brews of tea I nested.
During the night, I heard cans and bottles being rolled around. ,I knew they were racoons about and being so comfortable, just opted to yell at them from the nest in a tone often attuned to dogs that are not behaving. They weren’t dogs!!, and they had no idea of domestication....................
