Finding a Solution

Nothing spectacular occurred on yesterday’s ride; no bakeries appeared magically on the horizon; no charming red farm stores offered me pies or cider. Instead, it was just a solid day of riding through beautiful lake country. And guess what? I wasn’t the only one who thought it would be a good idea to explore this neck of the woods.

Even as I got on the road at dawn in Traverse City, people were flying along the strip, so I was happy to get off right away, and to take backroads as long as possible. The early morning hours, as ever, were golden. I rode along roads lined with pine trees arcing overhead and sunlight filtering through.

On the first highway, 131, I opted for the business route, and that kept me away from the stream of vehicles for a few more hours, winding my way through small towns like Manton and Cadillac. These were more like the towns I had ridden through across the Midwest—the show seemed to have moved on; the action seemed to be elsewhere. The shops weren’t closed, but they weren’t bustling, well other than Big Boy Burgers whose parking lot was full. Not sure if anyone remembers Big Boy, but I am pretty sure we used to have one up north, and that my dad took me to it after picking me up from camp in Honey Harbour. Did I dream that? Can anyone confirm the presence of that cherubic figure hoisting a burger on a platter?

Suffice to say, I have yet to visit one on my travels, as I suspect they don’t include veggie burgers on their menu.

South of Cadillac, I got on the 115; turns out everyone else thought that was a good road choice as well. I felt safe enough (thank you Michigan for your wide shoulders), butI grew increasingly irritated by the roar of the engines. Drivers seemed to be going faster than usual, and I was thinking how aggressive they were, when it dawned on me that it was because I didn’t have my earbuds in. They aren’t noise cancelling, but they certainly muffle the sounds of the traffic to a good degree. The control pad on the earbuds had stopped working a few days ago, so I hadn’t been wearing them, which is why, in hindsight, I was so frazzled by the traffic when coming into Traverse City, and why my nerves were wearing thin on this road.

At the next little side road, I got off, dug the earbuds out of my pack, and put them on. The difference was marked. I could still hear every vehicle rumbling past, but they no longer felt so predatory. I had to laugh at myself, at how easily sometimes I can fix a problem, or at least ease it a little, but I keep on hammering on. I will definitely wear them for the rest of the trip even if I no longer play music or listen to an audible book.

I came into Clare at the north end, where the Quality Inn is, so I have yet to see the town which I will ride through today. The young woman at the front desk gave me a nice quiet room, with a view onto the wee forest area no less, and I was able to do a laundry at the inn, and to buy groceries at the Save A Lot grocery store next door. It was short on charm, but had all I needed for a good salad, and it even boasted my favourite boxed Cab Sauv, so life was good.

I have two days from here to Algonac, where I will take a small ferry to Walpole island, then ride across the island to Wallaceburg, ON. From there it will be a two day ride to Guelph! Hard to believe, but yes I am getting close. For now, though, I will enjoy what Michigan has to offer. A follower on Instagram has suggested that the nutty donuts in Michigan are very good; for a vegetarian that might prove to be better option than Big Boy’s best cheeseburger in the world.

The Best Hours of the Day

On most days, I find the best hours of are the first ones, when it is still cool, and there is very little traffic. Yesterday was particularly lovely as I got on US Bike Route 35, which took me west along the shore, and then south through lovely farmland and  rolling hills. I stopped in a lovely little spot, Cross Village, and picked up a charming creation called a Custard Pocket at the village store.

Alas the silence and solitude ended as the route took me into Harbor Springs, the first of three very swell towns. It might as well have had a Private sign at either end of town, exclusive as it was, with yachts tied securely at the shore, couples in penny loafers walking their carefully shorn poodles to the market, and majestic homes with properties so large that they were difficult to differentiate from the golf and fitness clubs, which were, of course, private.

In towns such as these, where drivers are distracted looking for fudge, or ice cream, or a place to park their Porsche, my only desire is to get back on to the highway with its generous shoulder.

The second swell town was Petoskey, which was larger and much busier. Luckily it had a bike path, which I hopped into, only to discover a sea of cyclists seemingly riding in all directions, and at all levels of capability. Little did I know it was Biketemberfest in Petoskey. As I was trying to navigate through one particularly busy park area, a man on a bike wearing a safety vest with ambassador stamped on it, stopped me to ask if I knew the path was closed ahead. He said he could see I from my bike and outfit that I was not there for the grand event, and he gave me wonderful directions to get me off the path and back up to highway 31, where there were fewer cyclists to weave around.

As I left Petoskey, I saw a sign for Traverse City—65 miles. I was sure I was closer than that, having ridden 85 kms already, at which point I realized just how far the bike route had taken me out of my way, and I decided just to stick to highway 31 for the rest of the day.

The third swell town I went through was Charlevoix, and it too had a busy downtown right along its harbour, with people enjoying the perfect fall day. Again, my only focus was on navigating the traffic and climbing the short but steep hill up from the harbour.

As I rode out of town, I passed the Charlevoix Dairy Grille, clearly a traditional fixture, and saw a group of lanky young men sitting at a picnic table, finishing up their dairy delights. I glanced over to see what must have been their coach standing up, and heard him say, see you on Monday, great workout today. Given their appearance and his, I imagine they had just finished a cross country workout. It took me back to the years of running cross country team breakfasts after practices on Friday morning, and though it didn’t make me long to be back coaching, or to be anywhere else but on my bike, I loved being privy to that small moment.

Further south, I started riding past expansive orchards and farm stores, offering pies, fresh produce and hard cider. I was tempted to stop, of course, but reminded myself that surely I would be able to find cider somewhere in Traverse City.

With my feet starting to throb, I finally took a short break in Eastport, and then pushed on the final 50 km to Traverse City. With the traffic picking up considerably in the final stretch to they popular destination, I had only one goal: make it to the Quality Inn where I had booked for the night.

I got onto the sidewalk to navigate the busy shoreline strip, and was so happy to see the Q of the Quality Inn finally looming on the horizon.  It had been a great ride of riding in many respects, but my legs felt tired, perhaps from the added hills, and I was weary from the relentless traffic.

I was in luck once more, however, as there was a great market store two doors down from the hotel, so after exploring the beach briefly, I headed there and found great salads, some local cider, and handmade ice cream concoctions of which I chose the Green Dragon, featuring a base of a Oreo crumbs, a layer of mint ice cream, and a coating of chocolate topped with Butterfinger crumbs. The very stuff of my dreams.

With such loot in hand, I headed to my room, poured myself some cider and spent a little time navigating my ride for today. I had considered going west again and following the shoreline further south, but I am feeling ready to turn east towards home, so I will head SE to Clare today. I may miss out on more grand views of the lake, but I hope to see lots of beautiful farmland and to enjoy the sounds of silence.

Michigan, Oh, Michigan

This state is so great that Biden is dropping by for a visit next week, although admittedly he is coming to stand in solidarity with the members of the auto union, but, still, I sure hope he has time to head north and enjoy the UP (upper peninsula).

I certainly enjoyed my time in the UP today, beginning with a stunning sunrise that greeted me this morning. Leaving the hotel, I went up the road to the park, and as I turned in, the driver of a truck waiting to pull out rolled down her window and said, you hafta stop, and I said I know, I hafta. It is amazing how quickly you pick up the local idiom, but she was right, the sunrise was not to be missed.

Once I got back on the road, I had clear skies for a few hours, then rode through pretty dense fog for about 10 km. Soon enough, though, I came back into sunshine and started seeing the many stores offering pasties, smoked fish, and fudge. I would be interested in seeing if those three items are included in Michigan’s state food guide, because honestly they were being sold everywhere. It is clearly a very popular stretch between Manistique and St, Ignace, and with good reason given how beautiful the shoreline is with its beautiful Sandy beaches. Even the small ma and pa motels still seem to be doing a thriving business, and I even saw a place offering housekeeping cabins, which looked so cheerful with pots of flowers and two of the classic motel chairs in front of each cabin.

I was tempted to stop and buy some fish, remembering the amazing smoked trout I bought in Pancake Bay, ON two years ago, almost to the day, but I was not sure how it would hold up in my pack for the day, so I refrained.

The last 30 km into St Ignace were particularly spectacular as the road runs right along the shore with dunes on either side of the road. I can only imagine what the  traffic would be like at the height of summer. There were a few people on the beaches and enjoying the water, but I didn’t dip my toes in to see how warm it was.

I was eager to get to the Mackinaw Bridge as that was my unknown for the day, in terms of figuring out the process for securing a drive across the bridge. When I reached the turn off for the bridge, I called to get instructions, and she said just come to the office right at the toll booths, and we will take care of you. The only little hitch was that the office was on the far left side of six lanes, so it took a little fancy work on my part to get across the south bound lanes, then wait for a gap and cross the north bound lanes. Once I got to the office, I paid the $15 fee, and minutes later a staff member wheeled around in his truck, lifted my bike into the back as if it was weightless, and then drove me across the bridge. It was shrouded in fog, consequently limiting my views, but at the same time also creating such a cool effect as we rose to the highest point of the five mile bridge at some 200 feet. Of course he was super friendly, and when I asked if he ever had to drive people over who could not drive themselves (a call came over his walkie-talkie talkie for a driver assist as we were talking!), he said he had driven plenty of people over, some of whom were so afraid they had to sit in the back of his truck with their heads covered, while he talked them through it, or didn’t talk at all, depending on their wishes. I suggested he was a great therapist as well as an awesome driver, and when he dropped me off in Mackinaw City, he gave me some helpful directions to get downtown.

I was so elated to be over the bridge, that I was ready to get a swell room and play tourist, and boy what a touristy town this is. The downtown streets were lined with stores selling fudge (what’s with all the fudge?) and just about anything you could print the name Mackinaw City on: T-shirts, hoodies, flags, postcards, spoons. It was all there for the taking, but I wasn’t wooed by the shiny trinkets, and walked on until I hit the fudge and ice cream shop out of which wafted the smell of cooling chocolate fudge and warm waffle cones. I didn’t buckle at the knees or anything dramatic, but I did make a quick dash to the back of the store where there was no lineup for ice cream, and, as you can see below, I bought a ridiculously large cone, and then wandered slowly while ice cream dripped down my hand and onto my pants. I was a mess, despite grabbing three napkins to help mop myself up, but it was all quite glorious.

After checking out the dock where you can board a very fancy boat to ferry you to Mackinac Island, I hit my limit for playing tourist, and headed back to my room where I have again been upgraded to a jacuzzi room, but I confess I haven’t felt any inclination to soak in the tub. I just don’t think it’s my style.

Tomorrow, I will head along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan and aim for Traverse  City. I’m looking forward to another great day in this lovely state.