I know some of you are on the edge of your seats, waiting to hear about my farm breakfast, so I should let you know at the outset that I was so hungry and had been hauling these oatmeal packets with me for miles, so I ended up making breakfast at my cabin. It was a good thing too, because by the time I headed over to the farmhouse at 8, breakfast was long over, though Helen did offer me coffee, assuming I had already had breakfast, because I had told her, via James, that I didn’t need any meals. I was more interested in meeting the owners, Helen and Jim, and I am sure it will come as no surprise that they were wonderful: very welcoming, interested in my ride, and keen to offer suggestions for my route that day. Jim asked what I did when not pedalling, and when I explained I was a retired teacher, he said he was as well, as was Helen’s brother, who was also sitting around the large kitchen table. Helen was busy baking, sliding two desserts into the oven as I arrived, while two other women, who also worked on the farm, rushed about getting things ready for the next guests. It was a welcoming place, to say the least, and had I not a 185 km ride ahead of me, I would have been very tempted to sit and talk about the state of affairs in education and to ask them more about their wonderful farm. But such is the nature of this trip that I am always eager to get on the road in order to get a little closer to home.
The women warned me it was foggy out and that there was more road work ahead where again flagmen would be controlling traffic. I told them I had extra lights on the back of my bike and that I would get off the road if I didn’t feel safe, then headed down the lane, under the beautiful arches, and out into the silent day.
It was foggy, but I could still see well up the road, so I felt very safe, and the road work had been delayed—probably due to the fog—so that was one less stressor for me.
Within an hour the fog had burned off, and I was riding into another perfect fall day in Wisconsin. I think it was my prettiest day of riding since riding around Glacier Park. It was not as dramatic, of course, but the light was perfect, especially as it glittered on the lakes I rode past, and the fall foliage was spectacular.
I stopped in Crandon, still 80 km away from Pembine, as it was the only town with a real grocery store, but it was worth hauling this donut, amongst other groceries, and yes a wee box of vino, for those 80 km.
Knowing that I had a motel booked in Pembine, and having a cloudless sky and the slightest of tailwinds, I felt ebullient as I rode along in the golden hours of late afternoon.
I got to The Grand Motel before 6, and though it might not be everyone’s idea of grand, I was happy to see an autumnal display of pumpkins and hay bales in front of the office, and to find a newly renovated room that was impeccably clean. For me, that was plenty grand.
With Michigan only 20 km away, I am heading into one of the prettiest parts of the trip, riding the northern peninsula of the state, and today looks like another perfect day for pedalling.