Last Sunday I oiled up my trusty Trek and set out under a bright blue sky for a long-overdue bicycle trip down the Des Plaines river trail. I started out at Gowe Beach in Gurnee near the canoe launch, and was immediately taken aback by the colors around me before my foot even touched the pedal. The bushes around the pavillion to my left had some of the brightest and reddest leaves I have ever seen. Looking around at the treetops I was awash in a panorama of yellows and oranges. Thinking to myself that I had picked the perfect day for a ride, I pushed southwards on the crushed limestone path. I wound my way down the trail, my senses delighting in the sights and sounds all around me. Plants with yellow and white flowers poked out of the brush between the trail and the river. Overhead, robins swooped and chirped to one another as they collected food and prepared for their trip south. I whisked by a bush with crimson berries the size of my thumbnail. I rolled around a curve and admired the vibrant forest floor, which only a few months before had been underwater and was now sprouting bright-green seedlings. Around the base of a tree, a colony of dark brown mushrooms arched skyward. I continued to coast along, listening to the crunch of stone under my tires and the rustling of the wind through the leaves. A lake inhabited by mallards and geese appeared and I decided to take a water break on the nearby park bench. I waved to a couple passing cyclists who also appeared to be enjoying the fall beauty. Towering over me were several thick oak trees, and bug-eyed grey squirrels rummaged around the acorns strewn across the ground. A breeze tossed dead leaves across the path, and after a few minutes' rest I capped my water bottle and pressed onward.
I pedaled and gained momentum as I coasted down a rolling slope. A bush full of large black berries passed by on my right. I rounded another bend and all at once found myself in a prarie clearing. Tall grass swayed around me, and I was reminded of mental images I'd pictured while reading stories about the Great Plains. A perfectly sculpted bird's nest stood in a small tree to my left, and swallows glided back and forth along the top of the field catching bugs. I heard honking, and looked up to see a V-shaped flock of geese in migration. I rolled on for another mile or so, the scenery around me alternating between colorful forest and lush prarie. Through a hole in the treetops I spotted a large hawk overhead, circling effortlessly while scouting the ground for a meal. I exited another patch of forest to find myself in a broad clearing before a series of rolling hills, arched bridges, and connected lakes. I wove the path amidst joggers and picnickers, and a wooden sign told me that I was in Independence Grove. I rode to the peak of a hill and stopped at a picnic table to soak in the scenery. The foliage around me burst with color, as the leaves on individual trees transitioned from green to yellow to orange and red. Around the lakes and channels, people young and old baited hooks and cast fishing lines into the waters. Couples on foot-propelled boats cruised the waterways and soaked in the sunshine. A brown and black wooly bear caterpillar inched across the wooden top of my table, and I felt fortunate to bear witness to such a relaxing scene.
Again heading southwards, I found myself within a patch of forest that appeared to have been painted bright yellow. Tall white birch trees with golden leaves illuminated the path in every direction. Cottony white tufts floated above the grass as milkweed pods released their seeds into the air. A massive shape floated in the air high above, and the "fingers" on the end of its impressive wings told me that it was a buzzard searching for food. Forest and prarie continued to alternate as I proceeded southwards, and I saw everything from tree bark coated with sky-blue lichens to marshy bogs inhabited by enormous weeping willows. Dark objects hovering next to me turned out to be large dragonflies keeping pace with my bike. I passed through many sections of trees and grass, moss and vines before my legs told me that it was time to begin the return trip north. Although I was only out on the trail for about three hours, I experienced many refreshing sights and sounds, and left the forest with a greater appreciation for the natural beauty to be found in my own backyard.

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