Washington to Washington, Days 41-47

 Photos

Monday, July 11, 2022, Day 41:

The hotel had a nice breakfast spread and I ate too much, as usual. I watched and read the news while eating. Sheri came for a quick bite before heading to the fitness room for a stint on the elliptical. 

Today was pretty tough because of strong headwinds and crosswinds. The first 30 miles weren’t too bad as I was fresh and the Saginaw Rails-to-Trails path had lots of trees to shield me from the wind. The next 24 miles were brutal but I just put my head down, downshifted, and turned the pedals. I was on a road with little shoulder and too many cars. Eventually, I rolled into a park and found Sheri sitting in the car. Rain was coming. We took a 90-minute break to wait out the rain. We ate, chatted, and read our books. 

The final 24 miles were still rough, but the roads were better and almost deserted of traffic. The last 11 miles were all on dirt, farm roads, but the surface was good and no issue. 

Sheri found us a campground, but our site was near an algae-covered frog pond. Just as I arrived, a family with three kids headed right passed us to the lake. All carried small nets at the end of small poles. It wasn’t but a few minutes before they’d caught their first frog. They didn’t do anything with the frogs besides look at them and hold them for a bit. Then they let them go.

After dinner we watched an episode of “Alone” and I contrasted their starvation with my gluttony. I’d have trouble making it through a day on “Alone.” Donut-less and without Sheri?! I’d tap out immediately.

Then we watched the fireflies light up. I used to catch these in jars when I was a kid and visiting grandparents in Illinois. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in Colorado.

Tuesday, July 12, 2022, Day 42:

Thunderous rain pelted our fly and lightning raged across the sky around midnight. I was glad to be snug and dry inside our tent. We’d anticipated the storm and had most things stowed in the car. This was wise, as everything out was soaked, and puddles ruled the roads.

Today, we needed to get the oil changed in Jeepy and see if REI had my road bike parts and could fix my crank and shifter. The plan was for Sheri to head directly to the Jeep dealership and I’d meet her there, switch from my gravel bike to the road bike and ride to REI. Then we’d meet up for a lazy, late breakfast and hope that both stops would be successful.

It’s been great but we are both ready for a new state. Pretty nice riding today with the exception of the time in Ann Arbor. But it was well spent as the REI shop had the part and replaced my crank and got my shifter working again.

Rode the gravel bike for the first 36 miles and then the road bike for the last 44 miles. We had to do an extra 9 miles when our first campground was a bust.

We continued to a KOA campground, expecting a bit more of a carnival atmosphere and were not disappointed. This campground had lots of kids and lots of places for them to play: multiple playgrounds, a soccer field, volleyball, basketball, a game room, a lake for swimming and a lake for fishing and paddleboats. It even had one of those giant, enclosed-tube slides that you see at water parks. None of this cost anything extra. This would have been a great place to go with a group of kids. It wasn’t bad for us either, as our site was well away from the action and even any other campers. Pure tent campers seem to be rare these days. I even took a dip in the lake. The lake was small and therefore not very cold. It was quite refreshing.

Wednesday, July 13, 2022, Day 43: Oh, Hi, Ohio

Riding through Toledo was the first real urban area I’d seen since a brief stretch in Seattle. It was gritty, with bumpy, poorly maintained roads, but it was interesting and the traffic wasn’t too bad and was giving me good space. I got on a bike path here, but it was short lived.

On the other side of Toledo I rode a two-lane highway, which wasn’t great, but the further I got out of town the less traffic I saw. Sheri ran into some traffic issues, so she was behind me and was going to be a bit late to our first planned meeting. I stopped and searched for a coffee place and found one right on my route: Ignite Coffee. I went there, ordered a coffee and hung out waiting for Sheri. When she arrived I had first lunch.

I rode on a great paved bike path. After 57 miles I met Sheri in a park and she brought me an Arby’s sandwich and some fries. It really hit the spot. 

The trail turned to dirt, but it was firm and no problem, though more exposed to sun and I got a bit warm.

Sheri got us a site at the exact polar opposite of the KOA the night before. Then she rode back towards me, reaching me 3.6 miles from camp. We rode together back to camp and then Sheri rode eastward, on the trail, a bit further until the threat of rain convinced her to turn back. She arrived at the campsite about five minutes before it started to rain.

So, our campground. Here’s what I think happened. This lady, young for a great grandmother, has a couple of acres of land. She maybe did something with it in her younger years but then nothing. At least until the new bike trail went right by her land. She thinks, “I’ll start a campground for all the cyclists coming by!” A campground is way easier than a motel, as there is hardly anything to build. But campers expect some things, like a bathroom, which will have to be cleaned and maintained (actually, we found a number of campgrounds where the managers seem to think this wasn’t necessary). “No problem,” she thinks, “I’ll just get a Port-o-Potty and the company will be responsible for managing it." Cyclists also like to shower. That’s a tougher nut to crack, but she has a great idea to just put a shower head on the outside of an existing maintenance shed. She had a little fence build around it, puts down some gravel and flagstone. Voila! Instant shower with absolutely nothing to clean!

Showering outside sounds great. I love it. But there is just one problem with it. What if you want to shower when it’s raining? What do you do after you turn off the shower? She built no roof or even an overhang around the shower. Do you dry with your towel, now wet from the rain, and put on your wet clothes? Yes. Yes, I did. It kept my shower short, which was not a plus.

Since it was raining, we decided to go into town, ten miles away. It beat sitting in the car or the tent. I searched for a coffee shop where we could hang out and found: Sheri’s Coffee Shop. It was even spelled right. We had to visit even though it was closing soon. We had a vanilla latte and I asked where was a good place to eat. The barista mentioned Bob Evans. I asked, “What’s that? Who’s that?” He smiled at me like I was a turnip that just fell off the truck (isn’t that an expression used around here? Somewhere? Sometime?). I quickly said, “I’m not from around here.” 

“I gathered that,” he said. “It’s comfort food.”

That sounded good to me, but I didn’t want a fast food restaurant. I wanted a place to hang out a bit. I asked, “Do you order standing up or sitting down at this restaurant?” He answered “sitting down,” and we headed there. It was great. Fast, friendly service with reasonable prices and good, “comfort” food. Sheri got a salad and I had roasted chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes. Yum.

Thursday, July 14, 2022, Day 44:

I rolled out the next morning and rode the trail until it ended on quiet country roads. After 14 miles, I turned east onto a quiet 2-lane highway and saw a sign that said nine miles to Lagrange. I immediately thought, “I bet they have a lot of nice girls there.” I hadn’t been listening to anything, but now I couldn’t resist. I found the Texas trio, dialed up the song, and cranked it. Life is good.

I met Sheri first at LaGrange park. Then we met again at a baseball field near Bath, and then another meetup at a high school near Stow. It is always great to see Sheri so often, as it breaks up my ride and gives me something to look forward to. With such frequent breaks, it doesn’t seem like I’m riding that far. I rode lots of great trails and paths.

When I wasn’t on the trails, I was on quiet roads, going by small-town America. In the last few days I feel that 50% of the time I’m riding by houses. Lots of these little towns have great, huge, well-maintained parks.

Super nice, though very large, campground at West Branch State Park Campground. Our site was huge and completely isolated from adjacent sites. The only other site we could see was across our road. We had nice grass all around our asphalt parking spot and all of that surrounded by dense woods. Nearby was a nice shower and fresh water nearly at our site. 

The only drawback was no wifi and limited cell connection, though it was sufficient for me to do my research for my Camera piece, which was due the next morning. I felt really tired for some reason and I lay down in the tent to do my research.

Sheri did a load of laundry, which was a pain in the butt due to a broken washer (thank you, Sheri!), and then she went for a run/hike around the campground and the lake.

I had great weather today. In 44 days in this trip (so far) we’ve had just three days above 80 degrees and zero days above 90. I feel very lucky about that.

We are counting the days now before we finish. We are under 400 miles and will be there in less than a week. It’s been a great journey but also a long one. We’re ready to finish it off, see D.C. and head for home.

Friday, July 15, 2022, Day 45: West Virginia, Mountain Mama

Take me home, country roads. That’s what I was thinking. I miss John Denver. Brilliant songwriter. 

West Virginia is the second fattest state in the nation. We noticed. It’s also the least flat state, meaning the most mountainous. I’m not sure how that is measured, but my buddy David The Sometimes Swiss assures me this is true. I guess it is appropriate that the University of West Virginia mascot is The Mountaineers. The Mountaineers, which may sound hilarious to us Coloradans, but the steepest roads of this entire ride were in this state. 

Rode backroads and bike paths for the first 44 miles. Then we took a 90-minute break in Lisbon— a cute, little town. We were at the small park in the town quad. It would have been perfect if not for all the big trucks running through the center of the town. They need a truck bypass. We also finished my bi-weekly piece for the Daily Camera.

I then rode 20 miles to Chester, West Virginia for another break. I went across a cool, ancient, suspension bridge.

The last 14 miles were adventurous. Constant hills and I even continued on through a closed section of the highway that was barricaded to cars in multiple places.

I finished with a very steep one-mile climb to the campground in…Pennsylvania!

Today was a good test. I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to climb a proper hill on a bike after 3500 miles of relative flats, but today, climb I did. True, my pace was glacial, but I did make it up without walking. The hills weren’t long, but some were extremely steep.

Saturday, July 16, 2022, Day 46:

This morning the Atlantic Ocean was 335 miles away. We figured it could be done in four days of riding, so that was the plan. Sheri found us another campground about 80 miles away. The impediment was the rain, which started around 7 a.m. I decided to wait a couple of hours to let the storm mainly pass us by. I didn’t start rolling until 9:30 a.m.

The route ahead looked very hilly. It was going to be up and down all day, much like the previous day, only even hillier. That was fine with me, though it would slow my pace quite a bit. I just needed to chip away at the miles a little bit at a time.

I picked up the Montour Trail outside of Pittsburgh and rode that until it dumped me onto streets. I followed signs to the Three Rivers Trail but found that to be just a wide shoulder along an industrial road with lots of debris. It wasn’t very pleasant.

Sheri picked out a park that we thought was along my route and it was close, but 300 feet above my route! It provides an incredible view of downtown Pittsburgh but proved quite the grunt to get up there. This was after 34 miles and I took a break here to eat first lunch.

After a rest, I rode back down the hill and through some industrial areas to get onto the Great Allegheny Passage (aka the GAP trail). I was riding right along the Monongahela River now. This is one of the “Three Rivers.” The Monongahela and the Allegheny River join to form the Ohio River. This path was really nice with lots of views along the way. It passed by some restaurants and had lots of signs describing the steel-producing history of Pittsburgh (the football team isn’t called the Steelers for nothing). With my late start, I wasn’t able to stop and read all these signs. That hurt, as I like doing this a lot, but I had a long way to go.

I should have stayed on this trail and I’m not even sure where it continued when I left it, but I was blindly following Google’s route to D.C. I met Sheri in Irwin City Park and I was drained. The road surface was so bad and the two-lane, shoulder-less road had tons of traffic. The road had the look of it that you’d expect little traffic…except there was tons of traffic. Maybe there is just so many people out here and all of them had places to go and people to see. It was Saturday, after all.

Sheri suggested some alternative stopping locations, including right in Irwin. Physically, I felt fine and we decided to continue to New Stanton, only ten miles away. From there it would be just 17 more miles to our planned destination in Donegal, at a campground.

The riding to New Stanton went fine. The road surface got a lot better, a small shoulder appeared and the traffic seemed less. I just had a quick drink here and continued on. What was in front of me was the biggest, steepest hill of the entire ride. I was in my lowest gear, spinning away on a shoulder with lots of gravel, going up a relentless hill on a four-lane highway. This hill was considerably steeper than Flagstaff. Not Super-Flag steep, mind you, but really steep. It wasn’t as twisty as Flagstaff, but it was probably the steepest hill I’ve ever seen with a four-lane highway going up it. I suffered. I nearly had to stop and I never stop while climbing a hill.

I got to camp about 5:30 p.m. I’d ridden 85 miles and just under 5000 vertical feet — the most climbing of any day of the trip. I wasn’t wasted, but I was beat. I drank a chocolate milk and had some meat and cheese, and then took a shower. It was nearly 7 p.m. when I started dinner, which was just canned Spaghetti O’s. That might turn some people’s stomachs, but at the time, it tasted great and took little effort to make. I just heated it on my stove.

After dinner, Sheri went for her usual exploratory walk. I just rested. The campground manager, Dan, came by to get us registered and to collect payment. He’d been out riding on the GAP trail when we checked in. A super nice guy, he gave me some good information on the best way to get back on the GAP trail. He even drove back up to our site later with a couple of maps for the trail. 

I should have stayed on this trail from Pittsburgh, but I didn’t know about it and Google routed me this direction. I just didn’t do enough research. Our route will end up being nearly 3800 miles and I just got route fatigue, falling back on Google to create my route. Oh well. My laziness caused me to partially miss out on the best route. That’s okay. Especially since I can’t change the past.

We think we could finish in three days, though it might be four if weather continues to be an issue.

Sunday, July 17, 2022, Day 47:

The rain started before 6 a.m. and was a downpour by 6:15. I got soaked making the coffee, but it was delivered to my sweetie in the tent on schedule. I hung out in the car, waiting out the rain for the second consecutive morning. The weather and roads were conspiring to make this a tough finish for me.

To get the most of the trail I’d ride to Ohiopyle (that’s a funny name), but it would then take me 62 miles to get to Meyersdale instead of 35 going the direct way. I decided to compromise and head for Rockwood, 25 miles away. I’d get on the GAP there and ride it for 13 miles to Meyersdale, where I’d meet Sheri.

The highest point in Pennsylvania is Mt. Davis and it was only 10 miles off our route, so we did a little side trip to bag it. This was another highpoint that we could practically drive to, so we did. We met at a gas station in Meyersdale and I put the road bike in the car for the ten-mile drive to the trailhead, eating lunch on the way.

We ended up hiking about three miles to get to the high point, climb the tower on the summit, and then try to get to the LiDAR high point that Homie had told me about. We hiked up a gravel road to get within a hundred meters or so, but the forest was impenetrable. We turned back.

We drove back to Meyersdale and spent some time in the historical museum at the trailhead. We walked through a caboose and viewed three running model train setups. One was the Lionel-gauge railroad that my dad had and one was HO-scale — the size that I had as a kid. It really brought me back to those times of playing with model trains. I then kitted up and got back on the bike. I had 32 miles left to ride on the GAP trail to Cumberland. The weather forecast did not look great. I was hoping to make it before the rain started, but I carried my rain shell.

I was feeling a bit tired and just soft pedaled, listening to my lectures on science fiction and on how to write fiction. I’m not sure I will ever write fiction, but if I do, I’ll have been trained up. Heck, some people view my trip reports as fictional, so maybe this course will help me polish them up a bit.

I caught up to a couple riding with panniers and I chatted them up. Lawrence and Louise, who were biking to Washington D.C. from Pittsburgh. We were on the GAP now, but the trail changed to the C&O Canal Towpath at Cumberland (where George Washington took control of the then British regiment fighting the native Americans). They told me that the C&O is a lot rougher, muddier, and grassier. Clearly, this wasn’t their first time riding this trail. They enjoyed it so much that they came back to do it again. The C&O becomes single track for sections. Lawrence asked if I had fenders with me because, if I did not, I’d get covered in mud. Oh well. Muddy I will be.

I pedaled on at a bit faster pace and a few miles later the rain started. I still had 25 miles to go. I pulled on my rain shell and continued. At first it was light rain and no big deal, but it steadily built to a downpour. I was gaining on a rider in front of me and I caught him in a long tunnel. We stopped at the far side to wait out the rain. It was raining so hard that I knew it couldn’t last at that intensity.

Chad lived in Frostburg, the next town on the trail and only three miles ahead. Chad was 82 years old and still skied and rode his bike regularly. In fact, he was still working for the state, helping seniors to re-enter the work force. He’s been widowed for 15 years. He said that he used to look forward to the weekends to spend time with his wife, but now he looks forward to Monday so that he gets to go to work and interact with others. He’s not lonely, though, as his daughter and son live nearby.

When the rain came nearly to a stop, we continued on. He told me about the steam locomotive that runs from Frostburg to Cumberland on the weekends. It is supposedly the biggest steam locomotive east of the Mississippi. He told me about George Washington and his activity in fighting the Native Americans out of Cumberland. At Frostburg, we shook hands and said goodbye. I had 16 miles left to ride.

It wasn’t long before the rain started again for me. I picked up the pace to limit my time in it, but soon it was raining as hard as ever. Despite my shell, I got soaked to the skin. I couldn’t have been wetter if I had jumped into a pool. With eight miles to go I entered another tunnel and stopped at the far side to wait out the worst of it, yet again. I texted with Sheri here and she told me that it was raining hard in Cumberland as well. 

It wasn’t cold out, but standing in the dark tunnel, soaking wet, wasn’t comfortable. When the rain eased just a bit, I decided to just ride on. I couldn’t get any wetter and the sooner I got to Cumberland, where Sheri had checked into a hotel, the sooner I’d get into that hot shower. So, I pushed on into the rain.

It was actually sort of fun, riding in such a deluge. I put on some tunes to pump myself up and started really moving. The path ran right next to the little-used tracks and would occasionally cross to the other side. At each crossing I took care not to slip and fall over. As long as I kept the rubber side down, the riding was fun. I even shot some photos and videos while riding.

I found the hotel, the Fairfield, directly adjacent to the trail, and entered the lobby, soaked, with my soaked dirt bike. The clerk at the desk didn’t bat an eye and just asked, “How are you?” I said, “I’m soaked.”

Sheri met me at the room (she had been in the workout room), and I proceeded to strip off my cold, wet clothing and jump into a hot shower. It felt so good. Sheri started some laundry, as both of my kits were now dirty. Then she went and got us some pizza and a salad for dinner. We ended the day by talking to my dad and then with Derek, before finishing an episode of “Alone.”

Washington to Washington, Days 35-40

 Photos

Tuesday, July 5, 2022, Day 35:

It was soggy this morning and then started raining again at 9 a.m. I didn’t start pedaling until 10:30 a.m and I did that on very wet roads and with some mist in the air.

There was a nice shoulder to begin with but then 8.5 miles of riding with a six-inch shoulder and some traffic. It was stressful to have to ride in such a tiny space for so long. I stopped after eight miles of this to eat a bar, go pee, and get my headphones going. A young mother noticed my Leadville shirt and asked me about it. Her sister-in-law was riding Leadville this year. I continue to be surprised at the notoriety of this race.

I had noticed that my left pedal had some give to it. I figured it must be a loose cleat, but at my stop I found my cleat to be very secure. As I rode on, it was still annoying me. I thought I must have something wrong with the pedal, but on closer inspection, I could see that my crank was moving side to side. I stopped and cranked down the crank with my hex wrench. Thinking the problem was solved, I rode on.

I met Sheri at a big, green, very nice, state park. Sheri talked her way in for free. She’s such a charmer. I was a little chilled when I arrived--not enough to put on more clothes, but I elected to rest in the car instead of in a chair. I’d done 41 miles to this point and had 34 miles to go. We made plans to meet in ? after 17 miles.

I rode some on a bike path, but then got back on the highway when the path became rough gravel. When I met Sheri I had to tighten up my crank again. I also took the time to lube my chain. After some food and a chocolate milk, I rode the remaining 17 miles on the Iron Ore Trail and it was awesome. Half of it was paved and the other half was on firm, smooth, crushed gravel, 

With seven miles to go, the weather got really foggy and a bit cold, my phone died, and my crank fell off. No worries about the phone, as I biked with a power brick and a cable and got that going. While the weather chilled me, I tried to fix my crank. When I tried to push my crank back on, the right side moved out away from the bike, as they connected together. Eventually I got the crank on well enough to continue to the campground. Just before this happened I also noticed that I couldn’t shift into my big ring any longer. I thought this was just a cable issue and that I’d either need some lube on it or to replace the cable. I retro-fitted this bike with Ultegra less than two years ago, so this was curious. Maybe I did a bad job of it.

When I got to the campground, I found Sheri sitting in the car with her down jacket on. We’d got the last site. Thank goodness for Sheri. I wouldn’t have wanted to go searching for an alternative. I was quite cold at this point, so immediately headed to the shower, mostly to get warm.

When I returned, Sheri was off on her exploratory hike. I found a bike shop 2.5 miles away and hopped on my bike, hoping that they could quickly solve both of my problems. The mechanic, Nevin, gave me prompt service. He got my crank on a bit better, but I was lacking the loading bolt and he felt the threads were stripped enough that I needed a new crank, which he didn’t have and wouldn’t have until Friday. He gave me the part number so that I could call ahead to a bike shop hundreds of miles ahead. He wasn’t able to solve my shifting problem either. He replaced the cable but to no effect. The problem seems to reside in the shifter. I had been experiencing some trouble with this for a week or more. It just took more effort to get it to shift, but now no effort would get it to shift. This would have been quite the delay if I didn’t have a second bike. 

Wednesday, July 6, 2022, Day 36:

The tarmac in the campground was dry when I woke up. I hoped that boded well for a drier, warmer day in the saddle. I had to ride the gravel bike today, due to the issues with my road bike, but I wanted to be on it anyway, as I was planning to ride the gravel roads recommended by Nevin from the bike shop.

It was quite cold for the first 30 miles. 50 degrees or so. I was in leggings, armies, a hat, and even a jacket. I warmed after after that and was down to shorts for the last 40 miles.

Lots of highway riding but good shoulder and few cars. Buckhorn Road was awesome and I then did about 10 miles of gravel. I saw the sun in the last couple of hours. It was the first time seeing it in three days.

I started out on the coast of Lake Superior and ended on the coast of Lake Michigan.

Our campground is great and it is sunny and beautiful now. There was also really nice showers here. I made spaghetti and we ate it while watching a summary of Stage 5 of the Tour de France. After dinner we walked down to the Lake Michigan beach with our chairs, watched the lake and read our books. We mostly just watched the lake, and Sheri got a phone call from Derek and caught up with him.

Michigan is the only state (except for states with islands) that consists of two separate land areas. It looks strange. The obvious question is “Why isn’t the UP part of Wisconsin?” since it is adjacent to it. It probably would have been if not for a faulty survey. When Michigan (and Wisconsin) were just parts of the Northwest Territory, the border of the territory was officially the latitudinal line that extends to the east from the very bottom of Lake Michigan. The original survey for this line was horrible and trended well to the north, so that Toledo was south of the line and therefore part of Ohio. When Michigan was applying to be a state, the governor of the territory was adamant that Toledo was in Michigan and sent troops to occupy it. Ohio responded with their troops. No shots were fired, but a sheriff was stabbed in a voting dispute. This is known as the Toledo War — over the Toledo Strip — even though not a single shot was fired.

The governor of Ohio had a lot of pull in Congress and blocked Michigan’s application for statehood. This dispute went on for years until a compromise was reached. In exchange for giving up the Toledo Strip, Michigan would get the UP, which was considered worthless wilderness at the time. The UP turned out to be very rich in iron ore and became a cash cow for Michigan.

While I am musing, I must correct my earlier critique of the gaits of deer. Since then I’ve seen deer run with such variety and such grace that I’m embarrassed that I thought they only walked and hopped. They can trot, canter, gallop, and leap. Oh, the leaping is impressive, huge, graceful jumps of up to 25 feet and as high as eight feet for a white-tailed deer. The hopping is actually known as a stott or pronk. So, if you can “run like a deer”, you are truly a versatile, athletic, incredible runner. Sheri used to run like a deer. She still does, though maybe a slightly older deer.

Here’s another topic that’s been on my mind lately: Loud trucks and motorcycles. I’m not referring to semis here, but mainly pickup trucks that seem to be specifically modified to make a lot of noise. Harleys are this way. They make a tremendous amount of noise compared to the whisper-quiet Honda road cruiser bikes or even the fastest crotch rockets, so the loud sound doesn’t indicate raw power. It’s just loud. I assume this is a call to “look at me”, similar to people that dye their hair green or pink. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with this. We all want to be seen and noticed (well, most of us), but we draw the line at literally yelling, “Look at me!” How close we come to that line, though, varies quite a bit. I assume the people driving these noise machines know that they are annoying 98% of the people that hear them. They aren’t impressed. But, I guess, there are 2% that hear that noise and think, “Wow! Did you see that guy in the super loud truck? He’s so cool.” 

While biking along the highway, I pass by numerous houses, all with mailboxes along the road, some quite close to the road. I guess they are close to make it easier on the mailman. Many of these mailboxes have a small, wooden wall in front of them. I assumed these were to prevent kids from driving by with a baseball bat and whacking the mailbox off the post. I stopped to take a photo of one and the owner asked if he could help me. I told him my theory and he corrected me. “No,” he said, “It’s to protect them against the snow thrown by the snowplows." The UP gets a lot of snow each winter. He told me that they frequently have 2-3 feet of snow on the ground for the entire winter.

Today I went over 2700 miles for the trip and have about 1000 miles to go. That’s some serious progress. I’ve also done over 88,000 vertical feet, which, while a substantial total, is a tiny amount for so many miles. 

Thursday, July 7, 2022, Day 37:

Today’s goal was to make it to St. Ignace, which is on the norther side (the UP side) of the amazing Mackinaw suspension bridge — the longest suspension bridge in North America. Sheri found us a goal campground and I needed to ride 88 miles to get there — the same distance I rode the day before. 

I saw a lot of dead animals today: turtles, porcupines, birds. I rode highway the entire day. Really wide shoulder but not my favorite riding as there was a lot of traffic at times. There are many nice roadside parks though. These all have well-maintained lawns. Lake Michigan feels and smells like an ocean here. It has beaches and even some wind-driven waves.

It was coldish and clammy today, despite starting out in perfect weather and nice sunshine. That lasted less than ten miles. Maybe only five. Then it was in the low 60s and overcast the entire time. We've been hearing about all the extreme heat covering huge portions of the US and we've avoided it completely so far. I guess that is not surprising being this far north, but it has been super hot in Minnesota and North Dakota and other northern areas...just not when we've been there. 

Tomorrow we head due south and it should get progressively warmer, but hopefully not too warm.

Friday, July 8, 2022, Day 38: The Mighty Mac

The Mackinaw Suspension Bridge is the longest suspension bridge in North America, and in fact the entire western hemisphere, and the fifth longest in the world with a span of 8,614 feet. The total bridge length, including the non-suspended parts, is 26,372 feet or almost exactly five miles long. It’s known as the “Mighty Mac” and bikes are not allowed to cross it. Hence, we tossed the bike in the car for the crossing. If you didn’t have a sag wagon, you can take a ferry from St. Inge to Mackinaw City.

We were up and out of the campsite by 7:40 a.m. I rode over to the ferry dock and Sheri drove over there. We were taking the ferry to Macinac Island — which is in Lake Huron, as it sits east of the Mackinaw Strait. It’s a beautiful island with plenty of nice, paved roads, including an 8-mile loop that circles the island and it has NO cars! Most people seem to rent bikes as soon as they get off the ferry, but we were bringing our own. Others walk or take carriages (lots of these) drawn by huge draft horses. It’s a big tourist location, but does have permanent residents, though not many in winter. My Uncle Bob got married on this island that is a popular wedding destination. 

We biked the island loop and it was great. Nearly perfect weather made the riding very enjoyable. Plenty of people were on the road and the one hiking trail we did (to a very cool rock arch), but not nearly crowded. We rode up to Fort Macinac and learned a bit of history. The British first built the fort in the late 1700s but ceded it to the US after the revolutionary war. The fort was retaken by the British with the help of lots of Native Americans in 1812, and the fort commander didn’t even know there was a war going on. He surrendered without a fight to avoid a possible massacre. 

We also rode up to the Grand Hotel which is huge and has its own golf course. The grounds here and everywhere are impeccably maintained. Flowers and manicured lawns are everywhere. The Grand Hotel has a strict dress code after 6 p.m. Gentlemen must be in a coat and tie and ladies cannot be wearing pants. That reminds me of the Thirty Rock episode where Jack Donaghue (sp?) is in a tuxedo at work and Liz Lemon asks him, “Are you wearing a tux?” and he responds, “Lemon, it’s after six. I’m not a hillbilly.”

Before leaving the island we bought some fudge. Apparently this island is famous for it and they have so many different kinds. It turns out that Sheri loves fudge. Who knew? 

Back in St. Ignace, still in the UP, we headed over to a park for lunch. The park was right on the shore of Lake Michigan with a tremendous view of “The Mighty Mac.” Afterwards, I put my bike in the car, because bikes aren’t allowed on this bridge. There is no walking across this bridge either, as there is no walking/biking path, like on the Golden Gate Bridge. In fact, the edge of the bridge is so close to the roadway that cars have fallen off this bridge and people get nervous about it in high winds. Even Sheri preferred to drive in the middle lane.

Immediately on the other side, we got off the highway (I-75) and I got on the bike. We were now on the Lower Peninsula (no one calls it the LP) and would head due south for the next 350 miles. I immediately got on the North Central Michigan rails-to-trails route. This is a smooth, firm, crushed-gravel trail that runs for 65 miles. It is in forests but also along the shores of lakes, including the large Mullet Lake. Riding down along this lake, I was impressed with so many nice houses, so well maintained, along the lake front. I rode along this for 10-15 miles and it was very scenic. It reminded me of one of my favorite movies: Breaking Away, though I know that movie was set in Indiana. It was quintessential middle America. 

I stopped to take a photo at one point and a lady was out tending her garden. She said that her house was a former train depot. Cool. I marveled at the great location and she said, “Isn’t Michigan the best?!” That got me thinking. It seems that most people think they live in the best place. The two forestry guys we met in Wisconsin had lived in California before and I asked why they returned and they said the same thing: “Because Wisconsin is the best place to live.” I think the best place is Boulder, Colorado. This is a great situation, for people to be so happy with where they live. 

Sheri went ahead and found us a campground, at her third choice, in Wolverine. Wolverine. What a perfect name for a town in Michigan. Now if I could only see one of these… She then came back to give me some support. I didn’t need it, but I love seeing her along my ride. We met at a beautiful park right on the lakeshore and ate second lunch: McDonalds. I still had 18 miles to ride and kept going down the trail. I was listening to a Great Courses book about the history of Science Fiction. I pedaled easy and just loved the movement. Derek reached out for beta on the Petit Grepon and I called him and we chatted for at least fifteen minutes, all while I was riding down this glorious trail.

Sheri was waiting for me at the road to the campground, to make sure I found it, as we had a very weak signal here. I took a shower and Sheri did a workout with weights. I just read in the paper that the big star of the latest Thor movie was Natalie Portman’s arms. Muscles are in on females and Sheri has some guns. 

We had a simple dinner, read our books and retired to the tent.

Saturday, July 9, 2022, Day 39:

We awoke to roosters this morning. Honestly. I got out of the tent and saw four or five chickens and at least one was a rooster (can there only be one?) and it was periodically announcing the morning had arrived. It was cold — in the 40’s — but I didn’t see a cloud in the sky. That’s common in Colorado, but this was maybe the first day of the entire trip where I noticed this, including in Montana. I was sure it wouldn’t last the whole day, but the forecast was brilliant: sunshine all day long with a high of 77. 

I rode the last 16 miles of the North Central Michigan trail this morning. At one point a paved path appeared parallel to my crushed-gravel path and I veered onto it. This was a mistake, for after a half-mile or so, my path ended and there was quite the brush barrier to getting back to the real trail. There were even manmade stacks of branches to prevent getting there, but I stubbornly pushed through, scraping my legs and possibly picking up a tick, which I’d later find in the shower (I don’t think it burrowed into me, though).

I found Sheri waving me down after just twenty miles. She thought she was in Waters, but was seven miles north of it. I was surprised to see her this early but always happy to see her. I had a drink and a snack and we made plans to meet in Grayling, 24 miles away.

Quiet roads and some nice shoulders got me close and then I picked up a paved bike path into the northern part of the town. A short stint on a busy street brought me to a park where I found Sheri sitting in a camp chair in some shade. She had another chair for me and an incredible assortment of food: two breakfast sandwiches, chocolate milk, cinnamon roll, donuts, Coke, etc. We stayed here over an hour, chatting and eating and resting.

Our final destination was a campground at the southern end of Houghton Lake. It was 27 miles away and we’d just meet there. I took off on the bike and immediately ran into trouble. My first route was supposed to take me on the Railroad Road. The route ended at a railroad yard of sorts, but there was no road here. I searched around for an alternative without luck and then tried to take an alternate route suggested by Google Maps, on the other side of the Interstate. This route ended after only a mile at a closed gate with a “Private Property, No Trespassing” sign. Next, I figured to just get on the Interstate for a couple of miles to the next exit. It was the most direct path at this point. Unfortunately, there was a sign barring non-motorized vehicles… I briefly thought about viewing my legs as motors, but relented and turned back to the north.

I rode north, back through Grayling, past the park where we’d had lunch to highway 72 and took that east to a side road that had a “Bike Route” sign and took that south and west a bit to where I came across the start/finish of a Gran Fondo. I talked with a nice lady with a fancy time-trial bike that had just finished her first metric century. I congratulated her and asked for directions. She set me straight.

I rode out to highway 93 and then south on that to Military Road, which indeed had a number of military vehicles on it (we were near a base). The shoulder was minimal, but the traffic was even lighter. As I rode south, I saw a number of riders coming back to the north, perhaps completing the longer 100-mile ride. I waved at each cyclist as they passed by. I was finally on track and headed to camp.

My Google Maps tried to direct me down one tiny, loose, dirt path, and I rejected that idea. I stayed on the pavement. It was a lonely road and I could ride in the middle of the lane where the pavement was a bit smoother. Eventually, I crossed over a highway and got on the West Shore Lake Drive. It was great. I passed by house after house in a residential area. Each house had a dock and a boat. I continued on this until a mile from the campground where I had to veer west a bit. Here Google Maps tried to take me down another non-existent road, but that path ended after less than 100 feet, so no big deal.

I found Sheri at the campground, tucked into a densely-wooded alcove at the far end of a small grassy clearing. There was a picnic table here, but it wasn’t clear what, if anything, the campground had done to actually create a campsite. They had a shower, but it wasn’t the best I’ve seen. Other than the tiny size, spiderweb, old rag, and smell, it was also quite dirty. But it did allow me to wash a tick out of my head. Perhaps the tick was already in the shower. Too bad the spider didn’t get it.

We walked over to a KFC and had dinner. This was nice, as the bugs were plentiful at camp and we avoided cooking and cleaning up. I ate my usual 2000+ calories for dinner. This was on top of the two donuts and chocolate milk I had after finishing my ride. It really is remarkable that I’m not fatter than I am. I just can’t be burning the amount of calories I’m eating. Seriously. The riding I’m doing is too flat to be burning this much. Maybe I’ve become a more inefficient cyclist… This wouldn’t be such a bad thing, as it would allow for a greater donut intake. Life isn’t all about donuts, but I’ve come to realize that they are an essential part of my happiness. Not quite up to Sheri’s level, mind you, but key.

Sunday, July 10, 2022, Day 40:

In the 40s again this morning, but it is supposed to crack 80 degrees today. We’ve camped for five nights in a row and plan to hit a hotel in Midland tonight. My route is just 74 miles long and the last 30 miles of it will be on the Pere-Marquette Rails-to-Trails route. This is paved, flat, scenic and rated one of the top 25 Rails-to-Trails routes in the US. That sounded like heaven.

I rode out of the campground in chilly conditions. I felt great in the sun, but whenever I was in the shade, I was a bit cold. I knew it wouldn’t last though. It spurred me to ride a bit harder in the shade to generate my own heat. I rode 25 miles to a great park in Harrison, where Sheri was waiting for me. We spent an hour here, eating and relaxing. It was a decadent break after only 25 miles but would be my only support stop, as Sheri wanted to ride some of the trail as well. Her plan was to drive to our hotel in Midland and then bike back towards me on the path.

I eventually rode on, along roads with little traffic to Clare. I was follow directions to the trail when I sensed a disturbance in the force. My donut senses were tingling. A shop was nearby. Sure enough, I found the “World Famous Real Cops and Real Donuts” shop. I had to stop. The shop was located right on main street with al fresco seating on the sidewalk. People filled the tables and were enjoying all manner of donuts. I tried the door but it said to go to the door on the left. That door told me to go further left. Then another going left. When I finally got inside I found a massive line. I don’t know the speed of the line, but it couldn’t have been quicker than 15 minutes. Maybe 30 minutes. I was meeting Sheri, so I suppressed my strong donut urge and moved on. Sheri trumps donuts…barely.

I got on the path, which was really wide, maybe 15 feet. I was cruising along, listening to my podcast on life in the universe (spoiler alert: probably just Earth has life), when I spotted a recumbent bike ahead of me. I figured I’d reel them in quickly enough and chat. I did not. I increased my effort and slowly closed the gap. Very slowly. Too slowly. I put in considerable more effort and eventually ran this guy down.

Dave lives in Midland and was on his way back from a 40-mile out-and-back ride. He rode the recumbent because of hip problems (he needs a replacement). He told me about the LPGA golf tournament in town, which was probably why rooms were harder to find and more expensive. This tournament is a unique two-person, team format. Dave has lived in Michigan his whole life. He runs a construction company. I asked him how he likes living here and he responded, “I live in Florida 4 or 5 months of the year.” That sounded like what Sheri wants to do with Colorado: abandon it for winter and spring.

Dave stopped to use the bathroom and I was thankful to be able to lower my speed. Dave, who was 64 years old, was pounding out an 18-19 mph pace and putting some stress on me. I was using “Find My” on my phone to locate Sheri and while she was getting closer to me, it didn’t look like she was moving. Indeed, she had biked far enough and was taking a break. I met her and we rode the remaining 8 miles to the hotel together. Google directed us onto a fitness path that was only three feet wide. It was really twisty and fun to ride. Sheri got in twenty-one miles — her longest ride in at least a few decades. No problem for her, though.

We were able to check into the Hampton Inn at 2:30 p.m. While I ate and did nothing, Sheri went and did all the laundry. Yes, yes, I’m spoiled. I didn’t just lie there, though. I took a shower and gave myself a badly needed shave. So, you know, I was working too.

We walked two minutes to dinner at Panera and each had a salad with our sandwich. We haven’t eaten many salads on this trip. Back at the hotel we watched an episode of “Alone” on this History challenge. We watched a number of these seasons and enjoy the show quite a bit. We also watched a summary of a couple of Tour de France stages, though we are still a few stages behind in the results.

Sheri thought my legs would benefit from a soak, so I went to the pool and sat in the jacuzzi. Shortly after I got there Jason (four kids of 11, 8, 6, and 3 years old) arrived. He’s working on the video production for the LPGA tournament. We chatted briefly, as I was only there for a 10-minute soak. I did see him at breakfast the next morning as well and we exchanged emails and websites. 

Washington to Washington Days 31-34

 Photos

Friday, July 1, 2022, Day 31: Timms Hill

The Tour de France started today. We’re big fans and will miss watching it each night, but we’ll follow along via our phones. Maybe their riding will motivate me. I should try to match their mileage each day…probably not.

After a hotel breakfast that in most respects was sub-standard, except for the saving grace that they had donuts (!), and watching some Wimbledon, I started riding toward Ogema, the closest town to Timms Hill, which at just under 2000 feet, is the highest point in Wisconsin. It was 44 miles to the trailhead and I’d meet Sheri there. She got there 90 minutes before me. 

I rode some paved backroads and then they turned to gravel. Bummer. I continued down the road for four miles or so and then at the junction my route had a sign saying “Road Closed Ahead.” I checked my map and turned right, rode another mile of gravel and was back out on the main two-lane highway. The traffic was light enough and I had a good shoulder. It was fine. I listened to various podcasts and rolled along.

I turned onto a smaller road and then took a one-lane, one-way road up to the trailhead for Timms Hill. A half-mile down from the parking lot, I ran into Sheri. She’d already done five miles of running and hiking around the park but was saving the summit to do with me. After some lunch, we headed up the trail, but not together. Sheri sensed an opportunity for a Strava trophy. She was warmed up and ran the trail to the tower. This was only a quarter-mile and it gained 130 feet, but still, she looked good running away from me. I just hiked up it. At the summit was a 70-foot tall tower with a public staircase that led to the top. The view was nice up there and the breeze made the temperature perfect. 

Just after a group of four guys arrived at the top, Sheri started down. I chatted with them. One was a high pointer, like me. This was his 9th summit. It was Sheri’s 10th and my 21st. One of the other guys was excited about my bike trip and said that I inspired him to revive an old plan he and his wife had about biking across Spain. I hope he gets it done.

Back at the trailhead, Sheri called a campground 28 miles away and booked us a site. Since it was the Fourth of July weekend, we feared everything would be booked up, so we took this one sight unseen. She drove off to set up camp and I rode there, pushed by a nice tailwind most of the way. 

The campground was near a dirt race track. They raced until nearly 11 p.m. and it was quite loud at our site. Also, a camper three sites away was cranking up his country music, possibly to hear it over the race track. Redneck central. Oh, and our site was covered in ants. They didn’t bite, but they crawled on me every chance they got. It wasn’t our most restful night and we would be happy to move on in the morning. Still, I was glad to stop and just relax and read my book. And they had a shower.

Speaking of showers, I’ve been through quite the assortment at the campgrounds we’ve visited. In Washington, every shower was a separate room entered via an exterior door. There was no shower curtain, as the room was basically the shower. All these showers took tokens, which you had to buy, so no free showers in the campgrounds we visited in Washington.

In Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, and Minnesota, the showers were free. Some were just concrete alcoves and some had curtains and a chair and hooks. All had hot water.

In Wisconsin, the first campground we visited had a gigantic room as a shower. It had two stalls to shower in, but one was just for wheel-chaired people, as the shower head was really low. In this shower, there was one control: a button. I had no control over the temperature of the water and I feared it would only be cold. I pressed the button and got 15 seconds of water. At first, it was freezing, but after a few pushes, the water was nicely warm. Still, I had to press the button twenty times to take a 5-minute shower. It probably is a great way of saving water.

At the race-track campground, I had to pay for the first time since Washington. This shower took quarters (no tokens) and was pretty cheap: fifty cents for six minutes, which was plenty of time. This shower had zero controls. I put my money into the machine and bright LED numerals started counting down from 6:00 and the water came on. It was quite hot. In fact, it would have been too hot if the pressure was greater, but it dribbled out slowly enough to be bearable, though I had to move my head around to get it completely wet. With thirty seconds to go, the timer started beeping and beeped all the way down to zero, and then the water immediately cut off. I guess there is no excuse for still being soapy.

Saturday, July 2, 2022, Day 32: Hiawatha Trail (again)

I was up around 5 a.m. and doing my puzzles (Wordscapes and Wordle) and out of the tent by 5:20 or so, mainly driven by the need to pee. I made coffee for myself and Sheri. I always pass Sheri’s coffee into the tent for her — just like I did on the JMT. She loves that time in the tent to do her puzzles and read the news while staying warm and cozy and sipping on her boiling-hot coffee. I had some donut holes for first breakfast and then made us pancakes for Sheri’s first breakfast and my second breakfast. They were delicious!

We were now headed towards the highest point in Michigan, which is Mt. Avron and it is located in the Upper Peninsula, or the “UP” as the locals call it. Our goal for today was to make it just over the border into Michigan. Again, we were worried about camping availability, but we’d just have to see.

I realized today that our route through Michigan, along the entirety of the UP, plus the entire north-to-south distance of the main mitten (MM?) would be nearly 700 miles long. I rode just over 700 miles in Montana, so Michigan is nearly the same length as that huge state. We’ll be in Michigan for more than half of the rest of our trip. That’s surprising.

I rode the Hiawatha Trail for 30 miles to Minocqua. This is a very nice, smooth, double-track dirt trail — a rails-to-trails project that goes over a number of low trestles. Each one is named and the length noted on a sign. I took photos of some of these. It was such pleasant, mostly shaded riding, as I was riding through a forest, but crossing many streams (hence the trestles) and weaving among lakes. 

I saw quite a few runners and even a few cyclists. The closer I got to Minocqua, the more I saw of each. Sheri drove to Minocqua and then rode her bike south, towards me. We met eight miles south of Minocqua, so Sheri got in a 16-mile ride. We passed some really fast-looking female runners. We chatted one up and she was just finishing a 13-mile training run. She is planning to run Chicago and the California International Marathons (Sheri and I have both run this latter marathon).

Also, on this trail, I ate a bug. Not on purpose and it wasn’t the first bug I’ve eaten on this trip, just the first one that I remembered to document. Despite the fact that a lot of the world eats bugs and they are supposedly a good form of protein, I don’t think they were thinking of eating flies out of the air. I’m not sure what kind of a bug it was. It flew directly into my mouth and was too far down my throat to cough up, try as I might. Once I knew it wasn’t coming up, I took a big swig from my bottle and washed it down. Hopefully, my stomach acids will render it harmless. Like I said, I’ve done this at least twice before and I seem to be fine. 

But that reminds me of an idea I had for a new creature. Baleen whales, like humpback whales and blue whales, eat by scooping up swimming pools of water in a single gulp and then filtering out the zooplankton, like krill, as its huge tongue pushes out the seawater through the baleen bristles. I think there should be a creature that is super light and quite large, like a giant balloon — say five feet long on average, but with monsters getting more than ten feet long. Maybe they produce hydrogen gas in internal pockets so that they can float along. These creatures would live up in the forests of Minnesota, like around Eagle Mountain, and they would glide through the forests with huge mouths open, scooping mosquitoes out of the air by the hundreds. There wouldn’t need to be laws about harming these creatures, as humans would clearly see their value and love to follow them down trails. Wildlife managers would try to introduce them to other parts of the country, but because they are so big and so light, they can only exist where the wind is light or in dense forests that don’t allow strong winds to blow. They could be called Bloaters or Bug Balloons or Skeeter Eaters. Some wish they could live in a world without war. All I want is a world without mosquitoes. 

Sheri and I biked back to Minocqua, chatting all the way. It was so great to be able to ride and chat with her, as this had been a rarity. We crossed a couple of cool bridges including a big one, for bikers and pedestrians only, that crossed over to the island where the town was located. 

Minocqua is a super nice-looking town in a lake! Well, on an island in Lake Minocqua. Very much a vacation town. We overhead conversations like “Oh, hi. When did you get here,” like people came here for the summer. Such a life of luxury… I’m sure most people just come for the weekend and this was the long Fourth-of-July weekend. 

After a 90-minute break to walk around a bit and then have a nice relaxing lunch while sitting on a bench on the dock and watching the boaters and the water skiers, I got back on my bike and continued north, towards the town of Land O’ Lakes — you know, where the butter (or is it margarine?) comes from. 

I rode east for twenty miles and just before I turned north, I spotted a rider pulling out onto my road and heading in my direction. I increased my effort to chat with him. He appeared a bit more burly than I, and I didn’t expect it to be hard to chase him down, but it took longer than expected. I had to turn in just 1.5 miles, so I didn’t have long to chat. He was from Madison and up here for the long weekend. After a few minutes, I had to turn left. I’m usually very in tune to car noises and can detect when a car is closing on me and I heard nothing. We were riding two abreast, mostly in the bike lane. I bid him adieu and broke hard to my left into the on-coming traffic lane (which was devoid of cars) and then left onto my new road. Just as I was doing this a pickup came by and yelled at me. Since we were going in different directions, it was all over in one second, but I must have cut in front of him. He was rightfully pissed, as I did not signal. I was lucky he wasn’t closer and I could have been killed. I’ve made stupid mistakes like this before, even when climbing. I’m still alive but only by luck. Eventually, I won’t be lucky. Hopefully, I won’t make that mistake again.

Our first choice campground was booked solid (no surprise there), but Sheri found us a forest campground that was five miles off my route. We threw the bike in the car and drove out there. It was paved all the way, so I’ll probably just ride that distance back to my route tomorrow.

The campground was primitive (no showers, pit toilets, and only a pump for water), but at least it wasn’t by a race track. We set up the tent, read, and wrote. While Sheri took a short nap, I ate and drank (chocolate milk), and drank (Diet 7Up), and drank (Coke). Then we decided to drive into Land O’ Lakes to get some dinner. 

We went to a cool food shack called Dari-Maid. You ordered at a window and then got to buy the world’s most expensive vanilla coffee malt ($8.50), which was delicious. We also ordered burgers and fries. Our cell connection at the campground and in town was very weak and it took a long time to even upload my Strava track. I only really need the connection for plotting my route to the next stop and I am pretty dependent on it. I do have maps downloaded in a couple of other apps, so I wouldn’t be completely stranded, but I do like my Google Map directions.

On the way back we stopped at a couple of historical markers. We were camped at the headwaters of the Wisconsin River, which starts at Lac Vieux Desert (a big lake where we were camped) and flows 300 miles to the Mississippi River. It was a major transportation route in the 1700s and 1800s. Nowadays it has so many dams on it that it is called “The Hardest Working River in America”, though I wonder if the Colorado River works harder. The Colorado works so hard that it dies before it reaches the ocean in the Gulf of California.

Back at the campground, which we naively assumed would be so much quieter than the racetrack site, we were serenaded by loud music and constant fireworks until well past 10 p.m. Our site was a good distance from other sites and we could barely even make out a vehicle in the next site because of the dense woods, but we could hear fine.

Sunday, July 3, 2022, Day 33: 

It was nice and quiet this morning. I wished I had some fireworks to light off at 5 a.m. Just kidding. I don’t begrudge my fellow campers their USA birthday celebrations. We’ll be hearing more of that tonight and tomorrow night. Hopefully, on the night of the 4th we’ll be somewhere we can see fireworks, but I doubt it.

It was also cold this morning, at 46 degrees. I drank my coffee in the car to stay warm. Our goal today was Baraga State Park in Michigan, which will be another new state for me. I will be crossing into that state within three miles of my camp this morning. 

I rode three miles of pavement and seven miles of gravel before emerging onto the highway. Sheri had just gone by but didn’t see me. We met nine miles down the road on my turn-off on Bond Falls Road. After second breakfast, I convinced her to drive to Bond Falls as well. It seemed like a big deal with all the signage and it was just four miles away. 

She drove to the trailhead for the falls, down a steep, paved road, and then followed a paved trail out to a boardwalk running underneath the falls. I was able to ride my bike down the path and out the boardwalk to below the falls. I met Sheri there and we walked around the boardwalk and up along the falls. It was really nice. There is a hydro dam just above these falls. Above them? They could have got a lot more power by building a bigger dam and utilizing this drop, but they would have obliterated the falls, of course, and maybe the topology of the land wouldn’t allow it anyway. 

I used the paperboy weave to get back up the steep hill down to the parking. It must have been nearly 20%. I think I could have maybe done it head-on, but it would have been standing at 2 mph if I could turn the pedals at all. Thankfully, it was only about one hundred vertical feet. I went by the hydro dam just above. It didn’t look like much. I wonder how much power it produces.

I continued on nice, paved, twisty roads back out to the highway and then crossed it and got on a rails-to-trails route that paralleled the highway. It was a bit loose and a bit dusty but not too bad. It did seem to have more flies out here, though. The biggest drawback is that this trail was open to ATVs and a couple came by me going the other way and I had to ride through their dust cloud. But then, even worse, a couple came by me going my way. This time I rode in the dust cloud much longer. 

I met Sheri at a ranger station along the highway and had lunch. We decided to meet one more time before the final stretch to our campground at Baraga State Park, between Baraga and L’Anse on the shore of Lake Superior. I had second lunch at this next stop. I only had 19 miles to go, but it felt warm (it was only 75 degrees) and I was sweating a lot. The rest in the shade revived me.

I rode five miles of pavement before my route turned to gravel. And it was soft gravel. I’d weave back and forth across the road looking for the firmest ground. It went gradually uphill for five miles and the sun beat down on me. My pace was about 9 mph here and a frustrating pace because it was variable, depending upon the softness of the road. Also, I was surrounded by flies again. 

I looked up how fast a fly can fly and, for a house fly, that is just 5 mph. How were these horse flies keeping up with me at up to 20 mph? Were they a super species? It turns out they were! More research informed me that the male horsefly can fly at 90 mph! Though only when chasing a female horsefly. I suspect the flies were helped by flying in my draft. This would explain why they were primarily behind me. I could see them by their shadows. I was to them what a semi-trailer was to me. When those big trucks pass me going in my direction, I get a big pull from their wind. Of course, if they are going the other direction, I get a retarding blast, but it isn’t as powerful, as they are a lane further away.

With eight miles to go to the next junction, I put on my tunes for motivation. I hoped the surface would switch to pavement at the next junction. I did about one mile per song. The terrain crested and I got some free downhill riding. I also got more shade. After seven miles, the road turned hard left and turned to pavement. Unfortunately, my route was supposed to go straight, and indeed that was directly towards the camping, so I went straight…for about a hundred yards. Then I sunk in so deep that I couldn’t pedal. My measly 40mm tires didn’t give me enough surface area to support my prodigious bulk. I had to turn back. I could see on my map that I could ride the other three sides of a rectangle and still make it to camp. I was only three miles away down the sand road, but it would be more like eight miles to go around on pavement, but it was that or walk my bike for possibly three miles.

I went back to the pavement and rode just another mile before Google Maps directed me onto a gravel road. This road was fine and three miles later I was at the campsite. Sheri already had the tent up and was pumping up the sleeping pads. The campground was dense, but it was pretty. All the sites were manicured grass and there were lots of trees, but it wasn’t in a forest like the previous night. These were landscaped trees. The only drawback was that our site was right against the highway. A two-lane highway, of course, but still it had a lot of traffic in the afternoon. It was the only site open, though, and we hoped for quieter roads at night. Maybe the traffic noise will be drowned out by the inevitable fireworks.

Sheri went for a walk to check out the area, and I took a shower. These showers were nice. A separate room with a chair, plenty of hooks, a shower curtain, a shelf for soap and shampoo, temperature control, the works. 

That night, there were really good fireworks from the bay in Baraga. I had to wake Sheri up and get her out of the tent. We watched for thirty minutes and it was impressive for such a small town.

Monday, July 4, 2022, Day 34: Mt. Avron

Happy Birthday, America! 

Traffic was an issue during the night. Big trucks went by often enough that Sheri didn’t get a good night’s sleep. I woke early and it was raining, so I stayed in the tent doing puzzles and reading the news until 6 a.m. I made coffee in the rain and hopped into the car to drink it. When Sheri was ready, I made her a cup in the rain and served it to her in the tent.

The forecast was for rain all day. It was warming up and, temperature-wise, I could have ridden, but it would have been miserable and we are not into misery. We went into L’Anse for a great breakfast at the Hilltop Cafe (highly recommended). Afterward, I proposed that we drive up to the Michigan highpoint and bag it. That way we’d at least get something done today. If the rain then stopped we could move on in the afternoon.

We followed Google Maps directions and they were not ideal. I should have just followed the directions from my book. Either way, you’re on gravel and dirt roads, but we took smaller, rougher roads than we needed to. We had to do two stream crossing with maybe 18 inches of water. No big deal in the Jeep, but would have been wading on a bike. Our route also had many ruts and potholes and we bounced around enough that we heard a clunk and then Sheri says, “the bikes fell off.” 

Sure enough, the bike rack was sitting completely upright in the middle of the dirt road. We were going slow enough that the rack didn’t tip over and the bikes appeared to be undamaged. We got out and were immediately swarmed by mosquitos — by far the worst of the trip. It was raining pretty hard and we both thought that would eliminate the mosquitos, thinking if they got hit by a raindrop it would kill them. We had to spray ourselves down before we could work on the rack. We removed both bikes and re-inserted the rack into our hitch. Apparently, I didn’t crank it down hard enough when I installed it 4000 miles ago. I cranked it hard this time and we loaded up the bikes and continued. 

Soon after we merged with the normal approach to Mt. Avron, which was marked by light blue signs. This road was much smoother gravel and way easier to drive. We drove another five miles or so and I was shocked that we drove within a couple hundred feet of the summit. My guidebook said that we’d do two miles, roundtrip, to bag the summit and some of it would be cross country. I guess my guidebook is a bit out of date. We did see a sign, though, that indicated a hiking route that would probably be this 2-mile roundtrip. We realized that on the way back, but we didn’t have a strong desire to hike longer in the fog of mosquitos.

There is a decent-sized parking area just before the summit. We parked there. It took longer for my Coros watch to find the satellites than it took me to walk from the parking lot to the “summit?” “Highpoint” is the proper term here. We took photos and did a tiny loop out to a viewpoint where we could at least see out towards Lake Superior. It was hard to tell what was clouds, water, or fog. Even in crystal clear weather, I imagine that this view is underwhelming. Even with this loop, I got just 0.2 miles…Zero point two miles… Victory is mine!

We drove back to L’Anse and did some grocery shopping. It was pouring and the forecast was to continue until the next morning. Plus, the back tire on my road bike was going soft. I bought this $80 fancy road tire in Bismarck. It had significant damage in two spots and was clearly leaking air. I think I rode too much sharp gravel on a tire meant strictly for smooth tarmac. We decided to check into a hotel, dry out, fix my bike, and relax.

We checked into the Baraga Lakeside Inn at 2 p.m. and got to watch Nadal win this 4th-round match at Wimbledon. I had brought a spare tire for my road bike and I proceeded to swap tires and then used my fancy reservoir pump to pop my tire onto the rim, first try! Sweet! This pump is awesome.