Who Walks in the Unwalkable Places?
Growing up in the Midwest, I never once thought about what would happen if I needed to walk to a destination. As a teen, I knew if I wanted to see my friends, I’d need to drive or ask for a ride—and that was fine, it was just the way life was. It wasn't until I graduated from college and found myself flying to other cities (where my car couldn't fit in my suitcase) that I realized what it could be like to fend for myself, on foot. At times, when an expensive taxi wasn't an option, I’d find myself walking along highways or stroads, cutting through yards in the absence of sidewalks (wondering if I should be there, but trusting my map), or squeezing along the edge of a bridge or tunnel while cars zoomed past at hair-blowing speeds.
People will walk in seemingly unwalkable places. Not necessarily because they want to, but because they have to. Whether for work, or groceries, or trying to navigate through a new place, people are going to go. And they might not have a car with which to do so.
Bob Michel Bridge in Peoria, Illinois, was once one of these dangerous, unwalkable places. Rain or shine, people could be seen walking or biking along the hardly five-foot-wide sidewalk—right next to cars driving faster than the posted speed limit. Ray Lees, a member of the Tri-County Regional Planning Commission, which serves the Peoria region, noticed this on his routine commute across the Illinois River and decided to do something about it. Through a lot of work, talking to multiple city officials, and being told a change to the bridge could never happen because it was under the Illinois Department of Transportation, Lees did find a path through the Rebuild Illinois program to get the bridge redesigned.
By the end of 2023, the bridge will have a 14-foot-wide walking and biking path with a concrete protective barrier. But before the work is done, Ray Lees (and I) decided to walk it and meet the people who use this bridge, even before construction started, and hear their stories on why they crossed over the river (even though it’s been dangerous) and what it was like for them.
“I’ve used this bridge about three to four times a week,” said Bill Duhs, who lives in downtown Peoria, and crosses over the river in his mobility chair to get his groceries at the local Walmart. He shared that one time, when trying to pass another scooter headed the opposite direction, he fell off the small sidewalk into fast-driving traffic. “It wasn’t wide enough,” he recalled. “You get two mobility chairs coming in each direction and you couldn't pass. One would have to rub up against the wall and the other one, well, you’re probably gonna fall.” The time Bill fell, he was lucky, and people were kind enough to stop and help him get his chair back up on the sidewalk.
One woman (who wished to stay anonymous) said she regularly rode her mobility chair about 40 minutes from her house to the grocery stores across the bridge. She, too, had experienced running into another mobility chair user and fell off. Someone had to stop their car on the bridge to help her get back on the sidewalk.
Joshua Clark regularly rides his bike across the bridge to get to Walmart. “I live on the other side, so it's a big help to be able to go across the bridge,” he said. Before construction started and closed the area off to drivers, Joshua said there were many times he’d have to step off the sidewalk to pass people. “It was really dangerous, especially when one person was on a bike and another was walking, or even two people on a bike. The biker has to stop and get off and then there’s fast traffic right there.”
An anonymous biker shared a deep appreciation for the construction of a safer bridge: “I wouldn’t have a job right now on the other side of the river if there wasn’t a path. I just got out of prison, so I can’t have a license and this [bike] is my only way to work right now. You can’t ride a bike or walk across the other bridges.”
In fact, within 271 miles of the Illinois river, there have been only two bridges with a protected walking path—and they’re nearly 267 miles apart, closest to the large metropolitan cities of Chicago and St. Louis. The new Bob Michel Bridge pathway will be the third bridge with a protected walkway.
Jake Wittmer, who is staying at the local rescue mission, says he regularly uses the bridge to get to the shopping district on the other side. Before it was under construction, he said “It would be aggravating at times to walk. Sometimes you’d have to step off the sidewalk, next to traffic, to pass people.”
Daniel Hastings, who works over at the Bass Pro, bikes over the bridge nearly every day. It’s his only option to get back and forth from work. When he first heard the bridge would be going under construction and closed off to traffic, he was worried it would be closed off to foot traffic, as well. “I was concerned about how I’d get back and forth to work,” he said. Fortunately, for the entire year the bridge is under construction, a foot path will remain available for walkers and bikers to cross.
Jim Muncy, a marketing professor at Bradley University, uses the bridge every week for his exercise. “I go from the Rock Island trail all the way up to Morton. And I live downtown, so if I want to get to anything on the other side of the river, I need to take this bridge here.”
Once you see the challenges people have in the community, you can’t unsee it. Last year, when Ray Lees was driving along the bridge and seeing people struggling to walk the small pathway, he couldn’t unsee it. He knew there needed to be a change. It isn’t always easy to make a change in your community…but it is possible.
Americans are suckers for the idea of a moonshot, of taking a big, challenging risk and earning a huge payoff. The problem is, these moonshots usually fail, especially when they're trying to fix complex, chronic problems like traffic safety. There's a better way.