Day 21

Woke up and decided it was too nice out to lounge around. Said goodbye to Carl and Sue, who gave me a big bag of dates for the road. Packed up the rest and headed out for a day trip to the Door Penninsula, the protrusion into Lake Michigan Northeast of Green Bay. First stop was Wequiock Falls, a nifty little falls tucked in a gorge below a bridge.

Had a banana in the last of the peanut butter, then onto the next stop: the shrine to Our Lady of Good Help. Just passed the town of Champion, a chapel now stands on the site where, as the story goes, in the mid 1860's, the Blessed Virgin Mary showed herself in a vision, not once but three times to a young country girl named Adele Brise. She told her to help the children of her land follow the Catholic way, or something along those lines, which she did dutifully the rest of her life.
I sat in the chapel and prayed alongside other pilgrims for a time and then took a handful of holy water and spread it on Breezey's wheels. I figured it couldn't hurt, and it might help.

Then onto  what turned out to be the last stop of the day; a nice county park on the edge of the Niagara escarpment (essentially a long line of cliffs surrounding the Great Lakes). I walked through a staircase carved into the escarpment down to the beach.

The beach was fine but something was terribly wrong with the water. It was a thick pea soup color. Of course, I knew exactly what was wrong: nutrient runoff from the surrounding farms had caused an algae bloom in the warm shallow waters by the beach, consuming all the oxygen in creating a dead zone all around the shoreline. But the children played in the water and their parents pretended as if nothing were wrong. When the children did ask 'why is it so green?' and 'why does it stink?' I heard their parents respond "because that's the way it is" or even worse, "that's why they call it a Green Bay."

The situation frustrated me, but without anything else to do, I lay back on the beach, snacked on dates, and read my book.  the evening passed without much event, in the sunset was glorious.

After the sun was down, I cooked myself up a stew of sausage and peppers and broth, and then hit away in the bushes to pitch my tent under cover of darkness. And the summer rolls on...

Day 20

Another day in Green Bay. I'm here waiting on a doctor's appointment (nothing serious, just a vaccination) so I'm just killing time until I can hit the road again.

Spent the day bopping around town on my bike, investigating this and that, reading some historical plaques and sharpening my dumpster diving skills. Scored 3 loaves of soft bread, a bag of just-passed-fresh strawberries, a half sandwich, a bag of chips, 2 slices of pizza, and a hunk of fudge. Not bad.

Decided seeing a movie was a good way to stay out of the rain and blow a couple hours. Got in for 5 dollars, and stayed for 2 movies. Let me tell you, Pirates of the Carribean has really taken a turn for the cheesy. I think they were always, but it's just that much more obvious when they're running out of pirate myths to turn into dramas.

On a leasurely ride home I caught the Green Bay Bullfrogs, a collegiate summer baseball league team. Scrambled up the outfield wall from the backside and watched the show as the sun went down.

A slow day, more rest for the legs. Realizing Wisconsin is probably bot a ppace I would settle down in, but they still have great sunsets.

Day 19

Finally, a rest day... and I still biked 34 miles! Let me explain.

So Sam was off to to another host in Wausau, Wisconsin and then off to Minneapolis from there. So to set him on his way, Carl offered to escort him across town to the trail. But since I was hanging around for a day or two, I said I'd come along, and Carl being the retired bike enthusiast he is, he had to whip out the tandem.

To the trail we went, but along the way, took the scenic route riding through UWGB and then a surprise stop at Bay Beach amusement park to ride the ZIPPIN PIPPIN, a rickity wooden roller coaster right on the water, that happened to be a favorite of Elvis Presley's.

As the story goes, the King entertained a group of ten guests by renting the park from 1:15am to 7am one day in August of 1977, riding the Zippin Pippin many a time in his blue jumpsuit, and black leather belt. Apparently he lost his buckle on the Pippin, but it was returned to him the day after. Too bad he passed just about a week later sittin on the jon in Gracelend...

Anyhow, the tickets were only a buck so we took a spin, and man it was a ride! Haven't been on a ride like that in some time. The feeling that it might fall apart any second certainly added to the fear factor. Got a nice view of the bay too.

Back on the bikes we made it to the trail just outside of town, in Howard, WI. Said goodbye to my new friend Sam, but it was clear out paths would cross again soon.

So Carl and I rode back to town. Turns out he had a meeting with his Buddhist Sangha group at the yoga studio, and he said I could come along, so we rode right over, still on the tandem, and walked into a dimly lit room and sat on some cushions in a circle with several other ladies. We greeted each other with bows, and then did a long sitting meditation with a singing bell, and then a walking meditation in which we all walked clockwise in a circle very slowly. Then, one of the younger ladies read aloud a passage from Thich Nat Hanh about bells, and how they tell us to "listen, listen" and remember our true selves in the moment. It was a lovely passage and we had a good duscussion about it and anything else that wad going on in our lives. I shared that I was very grateful to have met so many new friends and been the recipient of their generosity and trust. They were all pleased to have me there, and it was a good moment.

Home we rode, Carl and I, through town just in time for a passing thunderstorm, which we hid from under a parking garage. Carl entertained me with stories of when he had hitchhiked to Mexico ad a young man and spent a year there. At home, Sue whipped up a big salad and cantaloupe. After a long shower I was in bed in no time.

Day 18

Happy Father's day. Shoutout to daddio for letting me do this thing. Your stories make me want to make some of my own.

And so it began early, around 6:45, when our host, Mark, nudged me on the floor of his shed and said to get up, the ferry was coming soon. I knew I had plenty of time but I got up anyway. Sam and I packed up, out of the rain and wind that was beginning to build. It seemed it would be a choppy ride. When we were all set, we said goodbye to our quiet host and rode the few blocks to the terminal, but not before Mark gave us each a package of snacks he got from the expired store. Still good calories for bike touring.

As we approached the terminal, an ominous black ploom rose from the waterfront.

And there she stood, the SS Badger. Not your average ferry. In fact it was a historic car ferry, one left from the heydey of car gerries across lake Michigan in the 1950's. Being so, it was still a coal burning ship... explaining the dirty black cloud that was slowly filling the downtown of ludington with smog.

We boarded without much trouble, Sam asking "too late to buy a ticket?" With the response from the dockman "Hell, you're a bike, we'll strap you to the roof." They didn't actually but let us aboard with several hundred other passengers.

The boat was like a little Queen Mary. Complete with dining area, movie lounge, observation deck, museum, private cabins, children's playground, live music and bingo, it felt like a cheap cruise that lasted but 4 hours. A bit of a time warp as we passed the time zone entering Wisconsin waters.

I sat, chewing dried fruit on the chilly observarion deck for most of the launch, watching Michigan fade into the inland sea.

After the initial rush on the cafe, I lingered and eaited until just before they started to thriw things out, anf asked "yall still open?" They said, "go for it, it's on the house. Just getting thrown out anyhow." So I got a big ole midwestern breakfast of eggs, ham, biscuts and gravy for free. A very satisfying feast.

Laster I sat in the museum and read a good couple chapters in my book while resting my legs, relishing in the sensation of the movement of my body without having to pedal.

Finally we approached Manitowac, an obvious Indian name with no other trace of its origins in the town. Factories hovered above the water among several large posters for Budweiser, and the USA, I guess. Hard to tell them apart.

Sam and I hit the road soon after, but not before gettinf questioned by other cyclists on board. Had to explain at least three times we were we're coming from or going to the same place, and yet both from Seattle... A strong wind from the Northwest slowed us, though we only had 40 miles to Green Bay, so we took our time. On the flat horizon, we could watch the rain clouds roll in, usually with enough time to take cover somewhere.

Meanwhile, Breezey was making friends, shown here with sam's steed, Brother Trucker.

Later on we hopped on another raip to trail that took us clear to Denmark... Wisconsin. Every so often we had to take cover from the rain clouds, which cleared out as fast as they came in, and were pretty fun to try and ride out.

Around quarter after six, we found ourselves at Carl and Sue's place, hosts that Sam had found the day or two before. We set up in thier basement, and assuming our hunger (which they were right about) we all went out to the Titletown brewery down by the Fox River in Green Bay. Sam and I both crushed mac and cheese pizzas (a wisconsin thing?) and made it home for a restful sleep.

Day 17

Today started like this:

I slept a little more and in the morning, tried to do as much as I could in the tent before facing the rain.

Packed up, said goodbye to my curtious neighbors and camp host, and rode out expected one if those dreary days downing my full rain suit, the water and crud gettinf flung up by my tires into my face and all iver my gears until the chains runs like a pepper grinder and I wince with every turn of the peddals. But within minutes the clouds cleared and the sun came out, anf soon it was another hot and humid day.

Turned out to be one of the most enjoyable rides I've had since new york. Winding roads through shady forest with lakes hidden around every corner.

The day was shorter in miles than most, only about 47 to Ludington. But I took my time and enjoyed the ride like this sign told me to.

This weekend happened to be the Gus Macker in Ludington- the largest 3 on 3 basketball tournament in the US. The town of Ludington (only 8,000 to begin with) grew to 14,000 overnight, meaning all the campgrounds were full. Luckily I found a host with a backyard and shed just a few blocks from downtown. I gave him a call and he said I was welcome though there was another cyclist who'd already called dibs on the shed for the night. I said fine, I'd be glad to have the company. 

On my way into town I stopped at a bike store. I'd been noticing that my grip tape on the handlebars and been sliding all around, meaning my palms were pressing on the bare metal most of the time, and I've begun to loose feeling in my pinkies (not a good sign). So I rolled in, asked if they could help me, and sure enough they gave be a plush new wrap, and for no charge at all. Another blessing from fellow cyclists and caring humans.

He sent me next door to the health food store, where I scored some tasty homemade granola. I guess that park ranger I talked to in Bay City was right, western Michigan is the California of the Mid-West. 

Mark, my host for the night, picked me out right of the street: "You must be Finley." I guess my grunginess and the bike gave me away pretty easy. He pointed me to his place and I set up camp in the yard to dry stuff out. Made some potatoes and was feeling ready for a nap when Mark said my companion for the night was at a brewery downtown if I wanted to join him. So I did, and whudduya know but the guy's from Seattle and headed out goin west on the same boat tomorrow. A dumpster-diving doctorate student and an all around swell guy, we decided we'd ride together at least to Green Bay. And he studies Ecological economics, so we'll have lots to talk about. 

Seemed like a storm was rolling in, so I packed up for the early morning and slept on the floor of the shed under Sam's cot, and dreampt of rain.

Day 16

Slept very soundly. The kind where you don't know where you are when you get up. A good sleep.

So humid I can't dry anything. Tried hanging things in the sunlight all morning to get the water weight out, moving then every ten minutes to stay in the light, and still it's all damp.

Just before splitting, my neighbor at this campground shows me something very curious. A big old rock with carved markings in it. He wetted them to make them clearer:

We thought the bottom one said 1843, which was exciting but turns out it's clearly 4843, even more mysterious. Though some of them look like they could be petraglyphs, the numbers and what look like initials make that unlikely. Maybe just a very bored kid at the campground a long time ago...

On the road, the clouds made a muted heat, not bad for biking. Mixed farms, fields and forest all day.

This shack had swallows whirlng around it in a glorious way.
Went through Leroy and stopped in Luther for a rest, both towns of under 300 people. I sat at a park bench in Luther, and an older couple on their porch across the street said hello. We had a half conversation shouting across the street until I walked over and joined them on the porch. The old lady was smoking in her electric wheelchair.

Whenever I tell people where I'm headed that night they always have suggestions on how I should get there. Even though I have my route all planned out I let them go on. I think they enjoy it, so I'm glad to listen, even if I rarely take thier suggestions.

My lunch of hummus and vegetables (a staple for me) was had on the shores of this lake I know forget the name of.

Made it to camp in record time (though today was shorter) just around 5:20pm. Found a shady spot along the Little Manistee River, at a National Forest Campground just north of Wolf Lake. While setting up, the camp host comes by so I could pay. Realized then I only had 9 American dollars left in my wallet. The fare was $16 for the night, so I told him I'd ride into town to get some more cash. I actually really didn't want to do that, tired as I was and wanting to relax by the river, but I saddled up anyway. However, as I got ready to go, I figured I'd give my begging a try and asked the 3 old ladies camped near me if they'd spare 7 dollars. Thank God for for the virtue of charity. They pulled out some ones and collectively there was just 7. A relief. I thanked them, paid the fare, and enjoyed the evening reading in my hammock by the riverside, swatting mosquitos and marveling at the fireflies.

Some observations

Some observations:
 Michigan has great clouds. Passively cloud gazing all day is a real treat.
 It also has the most roadkill I've ever seen. Everything from inflated beavers, racoons and opossums, to oozing skunk, full deer, and many unrecognizable lumps of fur. It reminds me of a haiku I wrote earlier this summer:

Summer, you smell like
Roadkill and cherries
Hot on the roadside

More observations: some changes across the land are instant. Official things like roadsigns, banks, laws, things of that nature. Others, which I think are the more interesting to watch, and continuous, like the arbor and vegetation, and the way people talk and act. The difference between an upstate New Yorker's jargon, an Ontarian's, and now a Midwesterner's is awesome, and hearing the words and phrases morph as I travel is really something. Watching the landscape change is always on my mind; right down to the color of the dirt, the shape, size, and color of the lakes, and of course, the trees.

Perhaps most interesting is the ongoing introspection of any solo trip. 8 hours on the bike every day means a lot of thinking. Even some thinking about thinking. I think recently that my thought patterns have finally begun to change. And I don't just mean I'm learning, (though that could be), I mean that I'm noticing myself pondering things other than what I usually do, engaging them differently, anf processing events in a different way-- all very hard to describe but the fact that I can feel it occurring is exciting.

What remians the same is people's openness, curiosity, and kindness. When I choose to engage with people, (and sometimes I haven't a choice), I always take something from the experience and I hope they do too. They always ask questions, which I answer dutifully, and I'm trying to ask more of my own questions of them (and I have many). The one that has been getting the best results so far has been "What's the best thing about your state?" or "What's something unique about your town?"

The funniest thing is that I can't even wrap my head around the fact that I rode my bike all the way here. Amazing what one can do with two wheels and a little drive.