The Prairie Trail: Don't Let Trail Disappointments Keep You From Making Happy Discoveries

I have been meaning to investigate this for a long time: McHenry County, a big, square jurisdiction located up against the Wisconsin border straight NW of Chicago has been investing in its bike infrastructure, and recognizes bike routes and trails as not only pleasant recreational amenities, but also as valuable resources that link communities, schools and neighborhoods. Hurray for them. One of the most unusual things the county offers is an overnight cyclist camping site for long-distance bike riders who may be passing through on their journey to somewhere else.

This facility is located within the McHenry County North Branch Conservation District, an area connecting the far northern end of the Prairie Trail with the Hebron Trail.

I left my car at the entrance to Glacial Park, and headed north on the Prairie Trail. As usual on these brief day adventures, I brought along collapsible seating, compact cooking gear, and food to be consumed at a suitable spot trailside.

While the southern portions of the Prairie Trail (which extends north-ward where the Fox River Trail ends in Algonquin) are quite picturesque, with beautiful views and cooling breezes from the Fox River, this northern portion was linear, hot, fairly exposed, with lengthy sections where only the thinnest line of trees separates the trail from the nearby 2-lane highway. Nearing the northern end, riders pass through a charming town of Richmond with inviting bars and restaurants, but I elected to press on, determined to finally check out this overnight camping spot.

About half a mile from the Wisconsin border, there is a left-hand turnoff into the North Branch Conservation area, which also serves as a connector to the westbound Hebron Trail. While the connector trail offers more interesting topography than the Prairie Trail itself, it is very exposed, and on this hot windy day, those last 2.5 miles dragged interminably. I was really looking forward to a spot where I could finally park my bike in the shade and whip out my outdoor picnic.

I cannot describe my stunned disappointment when I finally arrived at the site of the overnight cyclist camping. Off the paved parking lot, flanked on one side by a very civilized toilet building, and on the other by a brick utility structure, is a cropped oval mowed into a large, open grassy field, entirely unadorned by any plant taller than a dandelion, and devoid of anything interesting at all. I suppose that for an actual thru-biker, this is quite a welcome rest stop, but I simply cannot fathom a less imaginative place to break camp. The only object on which one could even consider resting is a large rock which looks like it came from a home improvement center. With few other options available, I perched on it and considered my next steps.

I was getting hungry, but picnicking here would be a strictly utilitarian enterprise, completely lacking in any soul-renewing benefits I came to find. At this point, I was spitting distance away from the Wisconsin border, and I hoped that perhaps something more bucolic would be found at the state line.

I gamely made my way back, and headed north on the Prairie Trail. After a short distance the trail narrowed perceptibly, then turned into a dirt two-track, then narrowed further to the size of a footpath and with a short but unexpected climb, deposited me unceremoniously at the end of a cul-de-sac with an adjacent playground. I don’t know who was more startled, I or the very large bird who squawked loudly on my arrival and ran away quickly in feather-dropping panic. A domestic turkey, I realized as my heart rate returned to normal. I was in Wisconsin.

Briefly, I considered the possibility of having my picnic in the playground, but the neighboring homes on this dead end street did not offer much privacy. Oh well, you can’t win’em all, I thought. It probably would not take more that 45 mines for me to return to my car if I rode fast, and maybe I could still find a good spot at Glacial Park. Pedaling back, I was definitely on the lookout for side trails, and anything remotely more interesting than the trail I just rode. I even clambered down a steep river embankment looking for a spot under a nice weeping willow, but I was concerned I would be trespassing on someone’s back yard.

I was most of the way back to the starting point, when I noticed a small side entrance with a picnic table and a sign designating it as Tamarack Core Area of McHenry County. Since the picnic table was in full sun, I continued down the side path, where I’m pretty sure I saw a man relieving himself, and I would have quickly escaped, except that in some distance, across a shaggy prairie hillside, I spied some evergreens. Unlike deciduous groves, which tend to be moist and overgrown, evergreens beckon with clear, dry, open spaces below their soaring, shading crowns. I got off my bike and scrambled with it through knee-deep prairie, and found exactly what I was looking for: the perfect tranquil and secluded spot to build a small fire in my portable woodstove, roast a plump sausage, brew my favorite strong tea, and kick back in my chair to watch the interplay of sun and shadows, listen to the birds, and inhale the scent of pine sap and dry needles.

Disappointing ride? Maybe. But I still got my two hours of paradise.