What a stretch....

Another interesting and complex day on the road. Actually, it turned out to be the hardest day both physically and mentally of the entire saunter. 

I slept well but woke to rain drops pattering on the tent. It sounded miserable, but synthetic tent materials always have a way of making weather of any kind sound worse than it actually is. I forced myself from the comfort of my bag into the damp air. Besides packing away wet gear, the morning was calm and I felt ready for a day of riding. Engaged in a small world conversation with my camp neighbors who have a daughter who lives right down the road from us in Portland and who happens to go to the same bicycle pub we do. They were both in their seventies I believe the man said, but looked much younger. Maybe it was their spirit, sense of adventure and the VW Westfalia van keeping them young. They were driving from Tucson, AZ to Maine and then over to Oregon. Nick & Kim, get ready, it looks like a killer trip.

From then on the day was quite challenging. I threw my leg over the bike and a hard rain started almost in sync with my departure. Windy, cold, and rainy, my favorite mix. These conditions lasted for about 18 miles or so. A slow, cold Southeast headwind would remain throughout the day. But what found its way deep into my skin was the 30 some mile stretch of road without a bend or change of landscape to be had. Ugh, It felt like I was riding in place for days. Several times I retreated from the bike to yell some obscene meaningless phrase  like "Fucking Hell of a road these assholes built. Who builds straight roads like This anyway!" In hindsight, I'm not entirely sure why this bothered me so much. Probably had something to do with riding 12 days solo, too much time spent in my own head I guess. Or the wind; wind drives entire cultures to go mad. 

Meanwhile, my mother was planning to drive up and meet me in Naubinway, a town about 50 miles from the Mackinaw bridge. Little did she know a thoroughly crazed mind and terrible attitude was heading her way. When I got to Naubinway, mother now in route, the only place open was a small crumbly diner. When I opened the front door, a mouse or rat scurried by. I was tired of run down depressing places at the moment. Probably because I felt run down and depressing from the day. I turned around and walked out. The next town was too far for the hour and my strength. But, I called my mom and told her I was leaving and we would have to find a place along the road to stop instead. Luck would have it, 3 miles further a nice rest stop sat along Lake Michigan. By the way, I was inland most of the day when I thought I would be enjoying the long stretches of Michigan beaches. I was off a day. My mom arrived moments after I had with a famous UP pasty, oatmeal pie, and a Bell's Two Hearted Ale. Perfect! I'm a lucky son. We enjoyed a meal together and a walk along the shore for a few hours before she headed back home and I was left looking for a place to tuck my shelter in for the night. She called a few moments later to advise me that a campground was about 4 miles East. I packed up and decided to go for it. The sun was setting, however I had just enough time to make it. Thanks mom! You lifted me from a slump yet again.

Besides the thousands, and yes I do mean thousands, of Midges hatching, the campground was completely empty, well back from Hwy 2, and had beautiful sites all along the mighty lake. I found a place tucked back with enough cedars to block the wind but not too many to obstruct the view, and pitched. At this point I was thoroughly exhausted. All I had energy to do was brew a cup of tea and hang the food up before crashing in a sea of Midges. Again, thousands filled the inside of my tarp. 

I slept hard, until the Ring Billed Gulls on Hog Island, just off shore, woke me at some late hour squawking about this and that. Then a pack of coyotes, quite nearby, started their kill yelping for quite some time. The screams, yelps, howls, squawks never stopped, even for a moment. And I slept little, enough though.

Gear, I worked my ass off to hunt this Sasquatch down for you. 

One hell of stretch to ride. Subtle wind in the face and dead straight. I yelled some obscene shit here.

Exhausted and unsure of why I choose to do this here. I felt like sleeping for 20 hours on small jagged stones. 

The Best Camping Yet

I left Escanaba after an amazing sunrise and rubbery breakfast, but good non the less. Still dealing with the same tendon issues, however after 8 miles or so they seem to loosen up enough to evade my thoughts for a bit anyway.

Mostly a straight forward gloriously sunny day of riding. I took a picture of this field of Trilliums. This amazed me because where I live now in Oregon we also get trilliums, however, although much larger in OR, they never grow in a meadow like fashion as they do in the U.P. I'm used to seeing a small patch of 2 or 3 strewn about. Not sure why, but it was great riding through fields of white flowers. 

The Indian Lake Campground near Manistique is an incredible place to rest up. The best camping I've experienced on the entire trip actually. Main Street Pizza in town even delivered to the front gate not with the help of the DNR officer. The guy reminded me of the public safety officer in the Cusack film "Grosse Point Blanc." This guy took his job way to seriously. He asked me about a dozen times if the delivery guy came into the driveway at ALL! Apparently it's a major crime to deliver pizza to the State Park and he was ready to pounce on an opportunity to enforce. When he realized that his interrogation practices weren't getting him anywhere he looked at the box of pizza with drooling eyes and continued to tell me how great their pizza was, the best in town in fact. I think it was the only pizza joint in town. 

One more thought on pizza and bikes. A narrow handlebar hipster bike in Portland would never be able to transport a box of pie as well as my huge awkward handlebars can. 

Escanaba in Da' Moonlight

I'm a couple of days behind here. I'm truckin' along though. These pictures are from 2 days back now. I should be rolling into Mackinaw City or St. Ignace on the North side of the mighty Bridge by Sunday's end depending on timing and whether or not I can catch a shuttle or ferry across. Unfortunately, you can't lolly gag over freely on a bicycle. The bridge was built in an era where the auto machine ruled. 

In the pictures below 2 moments excited me. The first being that I rode into a new time zone, feels really strange to just pedal slowly and then be an hour ahead suddenly. Also made it to the end of map set 1 from Adventure Cycling Association at 8th and 19th in Escanaba. Silly actually, but it felt good to hit a goal. Lots of things feel good like that when you're listening to only yourself think for several days. Oh, and the most refreshing moment was running into a gigantic fresh water lake known as Lake Michigan! Not only does it have a way of reviving a weary soul but it just feels good on the eyes to look at a different landscape. 

I stayed in the historic House of Ludington. Also right down the road from a fine brewery, the first I've seen, called Hereford & Hops. My good friend TC would have approved. Fine ales all around. The House of Ludington was built in the late 1800's and us is supposedly haunted. It was creepy all right especially when I strolled back after hours and the place goes dead still. Everyone goes home, no staff whatsoever. You basically unlock the front door and stroll into a quiet, dark old house filled with pictures of dead people and their items thrown about. I didn't see any ghosts but, no shit, I woke up with a bloody scratch in the center of my forehead, hmmm? I would have noticed it the night before and, no, I didn't go to bed drunk. 

Well, I best hit the road. I'll be in Naubinway or Epoufette tonight depending on this storm moving in, could be ugly. And you guessed it, a nice headwind, doh! It was uphill both ways!

Finding Strength in My Home State

After a day of rest I felt...... Terrible. I woke up feeling recharged and ready to pound out a few miles. My plan was make it to Sagola, about 35 miles away. After my Achilles started rearing its ugly head at mile 2 I was beginning to think Sagola was out of the question. I gingerly pushed on for about 5 miles before I had to stop and make something happen. My uneven, awkward pedal strokes to keep the pressure off of the Achilles on my right foot and the Anterior Tendon (top of my foot/shin) of my left, was,.... I don't know,.....pissing me off actually. 

Then, it all got better and I made it 59 miles to a wonderful, warm, sunny county campground outside of Hardwood. How'd this happen? I lowered my seat a 1/4 inch, Ha! That's it, just dropping my seat a minute fraction of an inch straightened things out. Now, that didn't miraculously cure my tendons, they hurt like hell actually, but not when I'm pedaling. I just might finish the last 185 miles afterall. 

This was my best stop yet. A campground on beautifully serene Michigan waters. A small lake called Stromberg, I believe, wrapped in wildlife, sun and warmth. First order of business was to lay next to the lake and do absolutely nothing except soak in the calm. I then set up camp and made a meal. The sunset was going to be incredible and I didn't want to miss it by fumbling around with gear or food. I really hate eating in the outdoors, it has a way of distracting you from why you're there. 

The temperature and air were refreshing and I stayed out until well after twilight before climbing in the sack. Just as I was starting to go through the days images, I hear a larger than squirrel size animal approaching . There are quite a few dry leaves from autumn still blowing around, and you hear every little footstep, but these were definitely more interesting. I hurried out of my tent with a light and immediately found two beady eyes staring at me in bewilderment. It then slowly turned around and flared out its quills, basically flying the middle finger in porcupine gesture. And it climbed up the nearest tree calmly. Which happened to be only a couple of feet from my shelter, and it happened to swoop every so slightly over me. If this fella' fell, it would be like hellraiser from Mars shot directly into my humble abode. Hmm, well I wasn't going to climb up and retrieve the fella', and he seemed perfectly content perched about. I went to bed with the long comforting sounds of the Loon. 

Wildlife count for the trip thus far:

3 porcupines

2 bald eagles

2 Loons

1 fox

2 elk, a bull and a cow, huge!

100 or more whitetail 

1 musky

A few mergansers

and 1 (sort of) black bear 

Also fairly certain I heard the pack of wolves that live near Clam Lake. This list would probably be longer, but I tend to zone out a few hours of each day.

Where I'm At....

Here's a quick map of my route. The arrow is where I'm currently at. Just a touch over halfway. This route is about 600 miles total. Cheers....

Small World, More Goodness, and More Pain, shit

It's been quite a ride thus far! I rode into Michigan yesterday, Iron River.

I want to give a huge shout out to my better half Gina for being the best companion I couldn't have dreamt up. I don't deserve this much support and freedom but her kind, strong compassion is always there for me and my hair-brained ideas. While I'm out here spinning my legs in circles, she is at home taking care of the farm, keeping our pup happy, working, and slaying rats in the chicken coup. Thanks babe, I owe you big-time.

Yesterday was the full experience. I woke to a temperature around 20f and sun! Big bonus, no wind. Brisk, but surprisingly comfortable. Ate a meal in town, found great conversation, and headed towards Michigan at 10:30.

The knees felt great for about 2 miles, ugh. I ended up stopping for a long stretch session which worked miracles. Felt strong for awhile, maybe 30 miles or so. And then the small aches in my foot tendons I have been feeling for a few days now started to become more noticeable. The front of my left shin down the top of my foot and my achilles tendon in my right foot are the culprits. Shit, I can't seem to escape tendon issues this year. Yet again, I stopped, made some fit adjustments with my seat and stretched everything out. I still had 35 miles to go before hitting Iron River, MI and my confidence was waning.

I found a stride that seemed to work. Of course the pain wasn't gone, but doable. I fell into a sort of riding meditation. Climbed up a bit, then rolled over and coasted a bit, climbed up a bit more, and repeat..... This part of Wisconsin into Michigan is never completely flat but not full of big climbs either. Just rolls.

After many miles of this, a brightly colored man with a killer carbon road bike spec'd with the latest goodies was on the other side of the road holding what I thought was a phone. Even though this was the first fellow cyclist I've ran into since the 2 guys in Glidden, I was knackered and not all that interested in conversation. I was relieved to see he was on the phone. I politely waved and kept my mantra going.....fuck left tendon, fuck right tendon, fuck left knee, fuck right knee, Merganser!, fuck....Eagle!, etc...... A few moments later the brightly dressed cyclist came coasting up next to me saying, "Did you see that bear next to you?" "Wow, really? No, I was zoned out." "Yeah, it was on your side of the road eating some grass until that car spooked it off." " Shit, wish I would have seen it." We went on like this for about 5-6 miles, talking about this and that, gear ratios, riding, canoeing, camping, stuff that I was having a hard time focusing on to be honest. I was just trying to get my 13 year old mind and 70 year old body to a place of rest. But I had this feeling of meeting him before. I stopped to take a picture of the 'Leaving Chequamegon National Forest' sign. 62 year old Biker Bill stopped with me and he brought up the topic of Isle Royale National Park. I mentioned that my wife and I went there for our honeymoon last year and took the last boat off the island with Captain Don on October 2nd. He called me out, and said that the last boat leaves the island the last week in September. We debated for a second until he sealed the deal with "I know for a fact because I was on the last boat that year." "Wow! Really, maybe it was in September then, I'm fried right now" I replied and then said "Wait!, we must have been on that boat together!" Biker Bill enthusiastically said "I was the guy all dressed in camo." HA! I knew exactly who he was at that moment. Gina and I watched him chat it up with these two other fella's we ended up drinking too much beer with later that evening on the mainland. That's a whole other story which will be in our memory bank for years to come, a story of how small the world is and how great the people in it are. This one adds to that pile. We talked a bit more about that trip and how great the weather was, the gale force winds and such. And then we rode across the Michigan boarder together before we bumped fists, said our goodbyes, Biker Bill turned left and I stayed straight towards a place of rest. But now with a bit of newly found energy.

The energy didn't last long once I remembered how bad this ankle tendon was feeling. Ugh..... I got to Iron River and checked the RV park out and the loud generators didn't appeal to me at that moment. I grabbed the map to see how much farther the state forest or a campground would be. Too far, 15 miles. I opted for the hotel up the road with a sauna and hot tub, hehe, easier to cave at the face of modern comforts when solo. Once inside I noticed how warm the top of my foot was and that it was slightly swollen around the tendon. Damn! Sad to admit, but I've had lots of experience with agitated tendons and they don't get better overnight. The sad and sorry for myself Kyle shines through at this moment. A little pissed-off mixed in there too. I stretched, popped more pills, bitched a little, and went to bed.

Yep, this morning it still hurt a bit. I opted to stay in Iron River another day and rest. After all, I'm ahead of schedule by a day. I'm still pissed though and really uneasy about what the next few days are going to bring. My ambition has always been stronger than my body, particularly my tendons. Hmmm, what to do.

Today I rest, ice, heat, bitch, eat chocolate, make some adjustments to the bike.... Again, and then eat some more. Tomorrow I ride 30 miles to Sagola, rest, and then push for Escanaba. I'll make the call there if I can continue the last 150 miles or if I'll have to call up mommy and daddy to pick up my sorry ass and stretcher a bruised ego away.

I've always had this nonchalant attitude about cycling that has worked. With pride, I'd say, "You don't need to wear special shit, or get a bike fitting done, or train!" Well, that must have been my twenties talking because when I get back to Portland I'm going to buy the most expensive bike fitting in town. And I'm.....no I probably still won't train, but I'm definitely going to ride more before a big trip. Not so sure I like 30 yet. The joys of being a child at heart and in mind with a body full of over tightened guitar strings. Not giving up hope yet though damn't! I have been told there is a brew pub in Escanaba.....