Day 44 – Seney to Sault Ste. Marie, MI (T.D.: 141.3km; S.T.: 7h58min)

Today was a day when America seemed to conspire against us – keeping us in the country a while longer to pump a few more dollars into its lagging economy. This, after we had done our darndest the night before to upgrade our accommodations from tent to motel, and were forbidden to do so by unseen hands (oh the irony).

An explanation would probably help you out. Here goes. We woke up in Seney, MI, determined to make a break for the Canadian border. We weren’t on the run or anything, and our experience in the U.S. had been quite pleasant so far, but we were both eager to get back on Canadian soil. Plus, we had a connection in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, through my cousin Ryan, and the prospect of a warm bed and some friendly faces was pulling us north like a magnetic pole.

To make a long story short (and I’ll make it long again in a minute), we didn’t make it. America had a few cards up its sleeve, and decided to play them all, one after another, in a dramatic and devastating showdown that would make those televised poker championships on TSN seem like a real bore in comparison (oh wait…). It started in the driveway of the campground, where we discovered I’d picked up a flat tire the night before. No matter, we said, a quick fix, easy. As I was pumping up my patched tube, we were given an ominous warning from the campground owner: “Rain’s a-coming,” he drawled, “And it’s a-coming hard”.

Right. Thank you mysterious man. He was right though, and the rain did come. Hard. Remember what I said about not stopping for rain when you’re already on the bikes? Well, that was a lie, apparently. At around the thirty kilometer mark, we bailed out when we saw a sheltered picnic table. Had a bit of breakfast while we waited for the storm to blow over, and then continued down the road. It wasn’t long before I got my second flat of the day – a decisive burst signaling that we’d be held up for another half hour. No problem, we’ll still get there, just an hour later than expected. No big deal.

Onward we go. The rain was gone by now, but replaced by no slouch of a headwind, which we struggled against for a while until stopping for lunch on the side of the road. Feeling the need for a bit of extra fuel, we made our way to a nearby restaurant for pie (peanut butter and banana pie!). This was necessary, as the headwind had only increased when we got back on the road. A rare easterly, straight and true, kept us crawling for 40km or more towards an interstate junction where we turned north towards the border. Oh how we were delighted to turn north! What fun to have a crosswind and not a headwind! We might still make it before dark, we thought! Keep going!

We hadn’t gone 1km on the Interstate before we were pulled over (for real!) by a police car, lights-a-flashing. A stern woman got out and informed us that cyclists are forbidden on Michigan interstates. Whoops. She turned us around (after taking down our information and making us wait for about 20 minutes), and told us we had to take an alternate route along a secondary highway instead.

By this point, we were pretty much ready to throw in the towel, but something (Stupidity? Stubbornness? Blind ambition?) kept us going.

As we pulled into Sault Ste. Marie, on the Michigan side, the final card was laid on the table: a huge, snarling beast of a thunderstorm, gathering itself up in front of us, guarding the entrance to Canada like some kind of mythical gatekeeping hellhound. Keep in mind that this particular border crossing is nothing but a long metal bridge that crosses from one side of the great lakes to the other. In other words, it was here that we were forced to admit defeat. The only cards we had up our sleeve were fatigue, dehydration, and fear. And so we resigned ourselves to the idea that we would spend the night in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, instead of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, where a friendly family with a nice warm bed was waiting for us.

To add insult to injury, we were out of campground territory, and would be forced to pony up for a hotel room. Now you might think – hey, that’s just what you wanted! A nice hotel room. But the thing is, we wanted a hotel room the night before, a nice cheap one in rural Michigan. Not a high-priced tourist trap one in a border town, 8km away from a free bed. So grudgingly, we found the nearest hotel, and asked for a room. To our surprise, they turned us away – they were full. We went to three other hotels before we found a vacant one, and by this time the lightning storm was in its full glory. Imagine us, biking through a thunderstorm from hotel to hotel, ready to throw our money away to whoever would have us, and we’re turned away left and right. Unbelievable.

In the end, we were quite relieved to pay the folks at the Soo Locks Lodge, and trudge wearily up to our posh room (which by our mere presence, disheveled and smelly, was undoubtedly devalued considerably – we took some satisfaction in this). America, you win.

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 17.7km/h

Mx. Spd.: 28.5km/h

Personification of America as cruel, inconsistent, and money-grubbing: Unfair? Apt? You decide.

Day 43 – Marquette to Seney (T.D.: 113.6km; S.T.: 5h55min)

The thunder and lightning storms we squirmed under for most of the evening had thankfully dissipated by the time we got out of bed this morning. Uncharacteristically, we spent the early part of the day enjoying some leisure time at the campground – doing laundry, reading, and walking to the lakeshore to dip our toes in the (surprisingly) warm shallows of this giant freshwater sea. Lake Superior, it is said, never gives up her dead, so we were hesitant to go in any further.

With a batch of clean clothes in our panniers, we finally began riding at around 11:30, a very late start to the day. It was a beautiful ride along the lake, though, all the way to Munising, where we stopped for lunch and to contemplate our options for the rest of the day. We had been toying with the idea of staying in a motel at some point during our American sojourn, and tonight seemed like a good candidate. While there were plenty of motels (and cheap ones too) in Munising, we decided to press on to Seney, which would get us close enough to the Canadian border (150km) to get there in one day – particularly after a cushy, restful night in a warm bed.

The road to Seney stood in stark contrast to the first part of our ride today: it was a very long straight ride through the woods, and not particularly scenic.

Bored, tired and hungry, we arrived just as the darkness was settling in. A motel was looking ever more appealing. Unfortunately, the only place in town had no vacancy, so we were forced to race to a municipal campground not far away before it got too dark to see. There we set up a camp, had sandwiches for dinner, and, disappointed, settled down for another night in the tent. (We love our tent, really, but the expectation of a nice motel room made it seem a bit sub-par tonight).

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 19.2km/h

Mx. Spd.: 46.4km/h

Biggest surprise: Christmas in August! Ho ho ho!

Day 42 – Sidnaw to Marquette (T.D.: 131.5km; S.T.: 6h25min)

We were pulled out of sleep by the sounds of not-so-distant thunder this morning. Luckily, we were able to tear down the tent, make breakfast, and eat it before the rain started coming down. A small bathroom attached to the convenience store next to the campground was our shelter for a little while, but the rain soon died down enough for us to work up the courage to go out into it. What’s funny is, if it starts pouring rain while you’re ON the bikes, you don’t mind particularly. You certainly aren’t going to stop riding and take cover. But if it starts pouring rain when you aren’t on the bikes YET, then you all of a sudden become quite a wimp.

Anyway, today was a day where the rain came in waves, and couldn’t really be avoided unless you had excellent timing, so if we were to make it anywhere, we were going to have to get a little bit wet. In fact, it didn’t even rain all that much, in the scheme of things. Probably 3 or 4 hours out of 12 had actual rain coming down. That’s another thing I learned on this trip – rainy days are never quite as rainy as you imagine them to be. Enough about rain.

We had a nice picnic lunch by a river. I am sure Alex will appreciate the fact that I was hungry enough at this point to start eating without taking off my gloves, and (apparently) not even my helmet (this wasn’t staged – I actually ate like that for a few minutes).

Later, we stopped at a small bakery to find out what a pasty is (pronounced pass-tee). Turns out it is some sort of meat pie thing. We opted for the giant cinnamon buns instead.

In Ishpeming, we managed to locate a library that was actually open and had public internet, where we posted an update informing all of you folks that we were still alive and well. It was a lovely old thing, that library. When we came out of it, it was raining again though.

The rainfall increased steadily as we approached Marquette, which sits on the southern shore of Lake Superior. It deterred us from exploring the town proper, so all we really saw was box stores and rain. We ate at our old standby, Subway, and then carried on out of town to what would be our campsite for the night, a few miles away. Along the way, Caroline got a flat tire. As luck would have it, the rain stopped long enough to fix it. In fact, the evening turned out to be quite lovely, and we were able to get to our campsite, set up the tent, and even do a bit of reading in the dimming evening light before bed.

The campground was a kitschy-but-somehow-awesome affair, full of wood carvings and tiki lanterns. The rain came back after we got to bed, this time bringing violent thunder and lightning. It was a bit scary, as I remember.

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 20.4km/h

Mx. Spd.: 47.0km/h

Strangest sign: One outside of a motel that said: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us see the stars” – made us feel a bit better about what we were doing, but a bit concerned for the people in the motel.

Day 41: Bessemer to Sidnaw (T.D.: 112.0km; S.T.: 5h27min)

We awoke, well-rested and unhassled by bears, to clear skies and a light tailwind – good things all. Made our way from Bessemer to Wakefield, where we hoped to find a library with internet and computers so we could post a blog entry for youse people, but to no avail. So we continued on, feeling lucky to be enjoying such fine weather as we made our way through this slice of America. This day in the western half of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula found us in mostly rural settings – with hardly a town bigger than a few thousand Yoopers (as they call themselves proudly, if strangely, here). Stopped in Bruce Crossing to get a few groceries and call my mother, who gets antsy if we go more than a couple of days without a phone call. Plus we were eager to tell her that we’d crossed into the Eastern time zone – a landmark event that was a tangible sign of the progress we’d been making.

Made it to Historic Sidnaw (not sure why it’s historic – probably something to do with lumber) in time for supper, which we made at a deserted campground and enjoyed heartily. We were faced with not one, but two ethical quandaries here. Payment for the campground was to be made via an “honesty box,” which provided the basis for the first; the door to one of two lovely cabins on the premises being unlocked gave us pause for the second. Should we upgrade our accommodations to include a warm bed and a shower, and moreover should we pay for it? Being honest and boring, we put our money in the box, and slept in the tent.

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 20.7km/h

Mx. Spd.: 44.7km/h

Cost of being honest and boring: $20 and a slightly less comfortable sleep.

Day 40: Amnicon Falls State Park, WI to Bessemer, Michigan (T.D.: 160.03km or 100 miles!; 7h22min)

Today was quite a day! Perhaps the most enjoyable riding day since we left the Rockies. We had perfect riding conditions, with a blistering tailwind the likes of which we had never experienced before (would’ve been torture trying to ride west today, I can assure you). The highway shoulders on the number 2 seemed to cycle through all possible paving options while still maintaining a great degree of rideability. We’re becoming connoisseurs in the pavement department, and prefer a warm, rubberized asphalt mix to the more conventional cold mix asphalt you might find on your local highway. The difference in tensile strength and durability - not to mention reduced friction and noise production - is just astonishing, trust me.

We stopped in Iron River for a quick pit-stop and fuel up (i.e. pit toilets and granola bars) before sailing 40km through beautiful forest landscapes to the Great Lakes Interpretation Centre, where the flags were flapping furiously due east, and every second we spent eating lunch seemed like a waste of good wind.

Fortunately, the wind lasted long enough for us to digest and get back on the road. We had planned to stop in Ashland, but again, we opted to sail through due to the favourable conditions. We did stop long enough to enjoy some pie and spectacular waterfront scenery along the way (we rarely turn down a chance for pie these days).

The wind died down a bit as we got away from the lakeshore, and there was one huge hill to contend with, at the top of which a state trooper pulled over to make sure we weren’t about to die or anything. A fine fellow. We felt energetic enough to keep going, gunning for the next state line between Wisconsin and Michigan.

We made it in good time, and stopped for dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Ironwood. Mexican food should’ve been on the menu a long time ago – the fine folks at La Mariachi served up a fibre-and-calorie rich meal that was excellent fuel for a long day like today, and tasted oh-so-good to boot.

Another 15km brought us to the far end of Bessemer, and to 160km for the day – our first genuine 100 mile run. We set up a tent at the Alpine Campground, where our hostess warned us that there was a family of bears in the area. We didn’t lose any sleep over it.

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 21.7km/h (pretty good!)

Mx. Spd.: 54.4km/h

Truth to the idea that we have become pavement connoisseurs: Not much

Day 39 - Eveleth, MN to Amnicon Falls State Park, WI (T.D.: 128.8km; S.T.: 6h31min)

I make notes at the end of each day in a little journal to remind me of exciting/interesting details for when I write up these blog entries when we find a computer. For today, I wrote at the top “I felt great today”. You’d have to ask Caroline how she felt (if I remember correctly, she didn’t feel as great as me, but still pretty good). This was a day when you felt you could bike forever: cool temperatures, good tailwind pushing you along, and lovely scenery. I even got my second flat tire of the trip today, and still felt great (apparently). Our goal was to make it to Duluth, MN, where we thought we might take a rest day, but we ended up pushing on to Wisconsin, and staying in a lovely state park not far from the border.

In fact, we ended up by-passing the Duluth city-centre, but in doing so, had to contend with one of the most harrowing routes of the entire trip as we crossed state lines through a mass of overpasses, underpasses, and one long, windy bridge that connects Duluth, MI to Superior, WI. The industrial lakeshore was weirdly beautiful, if a bit terrifying - with a landscape that crossed a Group of Seven painting with an Edward Burtynsky photograph, and a dense road plan that approximated our worst cycling nightmares. All this, and I still “felt great today”. I do remember collapsing in front of the Welcome to Wisconsin sign and feeling quite pleased with the fact that we had survived.

Once in Wisconsin and the heart rate had time to settle down a bit, we dined at the Old Town Tavern, where we met a one-legged man who had cycled to Colorado in his youth. Later, at the campground, we met a two-legged man who had just finished a ride from Vancouver, WA to Chicago.

Stats:

Av. Spd.: 19.7km/h

Mx. Spd.: 48.3km/h

Best tourism employee: The lady at Amnicon Falls State Park. She deserves a prize.

Best sign award: This one. It really captured the spirit of what this bike trip is all about.

Day 38 - Orr to Eveleth (T.D.: 88.7km; S.T.: 5h09min)

A beautiful day greeted us when we woke up this morning. Got on the road, corncobs in tow, by about 9am. We had heard that Lake Superior was big enough to create its own weather systems, which seemed plausible; certainly the wind was confused about which way it should be blowing -- in the prevailing west-to-east direction that it is reputed to follow, or in an east-to-west direction off the big lake they call Gitche Gumee. We couldn’t get a read on it, as it seemed to follow no trajectory at all, but just blow willy- nilly in an every-which-way sort of manner. This was fine, if unpredictable. We stopped to fill up our water bottles at a church-turned-gift-shop (I’m not sure what that says about the economy in the States, but probably something), and ended up staying for pie. We tried the “French silk” variety that is a bit of a signature dish in these parts (turns out it is like a big candy bar in pie form - not quite as classy as the name “French silk” might imply).

Had a picnic lunch sometime later in a big wind farm field, where Caroline tried in vain to consume an entire bag of Cheddar Sour Cream-flavoured Ripple Chips.

After wrestling the bag away from her, we made pretty good time to Eveleth, but there got confused about where the campground was, and ended up wasting a bit of energy trying to figure out where it was. The cost of this detour was felt primarily on a small but incredibly steep hill we had to climb in town, only to have to turn around in the end to reach the campground.

We made a delicious campground dinner here, including the fresh corn, and settled down for a very windy night in the tent.


Thought a bit about Bob Dylan, who was born and grew up in nearby Hibbing - (we had thought about making the pilgrimage, but nixed the idea when we heard there isn’t much there by way of commemoration). I figure that traveling this north country fair (where the winds hit heavy on the borderline), is probably commemoration enough.




Stats:
Avg. Spd.: 17.4km/h
Mx. Spd.: 42.7km/h
Most terrifying wildlife sighting: A turkey vulture eating a dead deer! I’ve never seen a turkey vulture before, but they are HUGE. Like, the size of a small bear. A small, ugly bear with a wing-span like a pterodactyl.

Another Special Announcement

We made it!
On the off chance that anyone is still checking this thing, we arrived home in Fredericton last night. We're going to take three more days starting tomorrow to bike to Charlottetown, PEI, and then hopefully spend the next couple of weeks finishing this blog. Check back sometime next week if you're interested.

Day 37 – International Falls to Orr (T.D.: 94.0km; S.T.; 5h46min)

The humidity that had been plaguing us since Winnipeg finally dissipated today, and the cooler temperatures were a most welcome change. We also started the day off right with a huge and delicious breakfast (perhaps the food highlight of the trip so far) at a place called Sandy’s, recommended to us by our Montana friends in Sioux Narrows. I had the eggs benedict (thank you Kelton) and Caroline indulged in some fresh-caught wall-eye, which was spectacular.

Bellies full, we headed south-east towards Duluth. The landscape in northern Minnesota is still considered Canadian Shield, and highway 53 runs alongside the Voyageurs National Park, so we may as well have been Ontario as we cruised through the usual bush-and-rock fare. This is prime recreation land for hunters and fishers, so the main services along the highway are bait-and-ammo shops. The men who frequent these shops tend to think us a bit crazy, it seems, for wanting to bike such long distances when we could be staking out a deer or a moose, or reeling in delicious wall-eye. They may be right.

We did meet one other long-distance cyclist today, who turned out to be a fellow Canadian. He was a retired Winnipeger who had joined a friend for part of a cross-Canada ride in order to provide him a bit of companionship through the desolate stretch between Fort Frances and Thunder Bay. There, the friend continued east, while the fellow we met crossed the border and rode south-west along the shore of Lake Superior, and was on his way back to Fort Frances to complete the triangle when we ran into him.

Our destination today was the beautiful Pelican Lake in Orr, Minnesota, where we camped at a fishing resort called Pine Acres. We always attract a bit of attention at places like this, where we stand out like a white guy in a Philippino religious parade (see our 2007 Asia Trip blog for that story – oh wait, we didn’t blog about that trip). Somebody even gifted us with four cobs of fresh corn – perhaps the most cumbersome and bicycle-tour-unfriendly vegetable of all. It’s the thought that counts.

Stats:

Avg. Spd.: 16.0km/h

Mx. Spd.: 36.4km/h

Halfway point: Achieved (odometer reading: 3248.2km)

Cobs of corn eaten: 0

Cobs of corn we will dutifully be hauling on our bikes tomorrow: 4