Start and Stop Cycling

Posted on September 15, 2016 by Molly

Progress to date: 5 days, 203 miles

For once the weather forecast was right. Just when we hoped it wouldn't be. Even through the tent we could make out the lightning blips illuminating the sky. By 5:30am they were even brighter and thunder followed. It still seemed far enough in the distance that figured we had a chance of beating the storm if we acted quickly. A shout out to Jim proved he was no longer sleeping either, and he agreed to packing up while things were still dry.

It almost worked. We had everything ready to go and were about to take the tents down when the first raindrops fell. Then a few more. Then a whole lot more in rapid succession. Back to the tents, along with our gear as the storm raged in earnest. Not much to do but read or snooze in the meantime.

It was 9:30 by the time the rains slowed. This time we got everything stowed on our bikes before it started up again. A mad dash through the campground got us to the park ranger office. There we took refuge on the porch along with our bikes. Not a bad place to be, as it had both wifi and charging stations for our enjoyment.

Our next foray was in heavy drizzle and got us almost 2 miles. Art's Tavern was our breakfast stop, and we even saw a few short bursts of almost-sunshine during our repast. By the time we emerged, we felt confident that the day was improving. At the time, it was true. And weather was not our next showstopper, but a flat tire. Still only 8 miles into our journey, we were sidelined once more as Rich changed his inner tube. Relieved to be on a bike trail not the road, we rejoiced in our good fortune along with staying dry – for the moment.

It's a good thing that we had already reset our sights for that day's destination. We had planned to go to the very end of the Lelenau Peninsula and stay at the State Campground there. But another night of camping no longer held the same appeal. And alternate lodgings were limited to a town just 20 miles away. As it was, it still took us the better part of the day just to get that far. Our final 12 miles were far from dry, but at least we managed the distance without further incident or delay.

Leland proved to be an interesting little town, and even more so our motel. Perched on the edge – literally – of the Leland River, we reached our room from a walkway overhanging the rushing river water. The small dam adjacent to the motel office created a man-made waterfall and a surprisingly amount of noise. Downstream, boats were moored and on the opposite bank was historic Fishtown. What used to be shanties selling everyday goods for fishermen and townspeople are now populated by boutiques, restaurants and other trendy shops. But the look and feel still harks back to the fishing days.

It was a good place to stop for the day. Our final nighttime entertainment was watching salmon try to jump up the waterfalls. Most would futilely fly through the air to flop back in the water far short of their intended target. It made for some good laughs. And yet I knew how they felt, trying so hard to get somewhere and not quite making it.

And then there were three

Posted on September 14, 2016 by Molly

If you’re going to have a friend join you on a bike trip, it is mighty handy if he just happens to be a bike tour operator. Especially if you are in his home territory. And an all around good guy, like Jim.

We had already spent one day making our way north along the western shore of Michigan. It was enough to impress us with the Lake Michigan views and fine sand beaches. And I was enamoured with the brilliant blue-green color of the water, reminiscent of the Caribbean. We discovered that many towns were built on lakes, small bays or rivers adjoining the big lake. They frequently afforded appealing views with boats bobbing in marinas. And in between were orchards laden with ripe red apples, farm stands, peaches for sale, scenic farms and woods lining the road.

Our rendezvous point with Jim was Arcadia. A tiny village, it boasted both a nature preserve and a beautiful town beach. With free time available, an afternoon for doing your own thing seemed in order. Rich eagerly headed out in search of birds in the marsh. I spent my time walking the beach with the roar of the waves in my ears and the wind on my face. We finished just in time to meet Jim for dinner, and capped off the day with a splendid sunset over the lake.

Our morning departure as a threesome was quite a wake-up call. We had reached the coastal sand dunes, and as they rose steeply above the water, so did the road. Our initial few miles were straight up, ending at an overlook with long views up and down the coast. No one but me was willing to climb the steps to the top. But it was worth it. The low sun was just beginning to illuminate the trees below, and the clear blue skies and enhanced the deep color of the water.

It was a grand day for cycling and necessitated taking time to enjoy the sights along the way. Having three people meant more interests. More ideas. More reasons to stop. A photo opp for Rich. A rest stop for Jim. A lighthouse or two for me. One looked like a toy, but Point Betsie Lighthouse was quite nice.

We were in unanimous agreement on one thing. Ice cream. A requirement at the end of a long, hot day of cycling. Such was our mission upon reaching Glen Arbor after our 50-mile ride. Fortunately, Jim’s expertise led us to just the place – a shop where all the ice cream featured Michigan cherries!

We were grateful to learn that Jim was a very agreeable traveling companion. Despite the dire weather forecasts for morning, we threw caution to the wind and stuck with our plans to camp that night. For our reward, we scored the only campsite in the DH Day National Forest Campgound with a water view! The fact that they had only primitive campsites (outhouses and water faucets, period) was no problem. Our beautifully secluded spot also had beach access. With Jim leading the charge, we were soon swimming off our day’s sweat and rinsing our cycling gear all at once in Lake Michigan! I certainly never expected to swim in the lake on this trip. And had we been on our own, I’m not certain we would have taken the plunge. It’s a good thing that by then there were three.

Water, Water Everywhere

Posted on September 11, 2016 by Molly

We were destined to spend the day surrounded by water. The first variety came out of the sky. The weather forecast made it abundantly clear that we were going to encounter rain this morning. And it wasn't wrong. Although the skies were dry when we left, it soon began to drizzle. Rain was not far behind and continued off and on for the duration of our ride. But still, it could have been worse. The temperatures were mild enough that we didn't get cold, and the wind was light.

Our early departure worked to our advantage. By the time we arrived in Manitowoc, the rain was tapering and a strong NW wind had picked up. We both agreed that we were better off getting wet than battling that headwind. And we were glad that we had pressed onward yesterday leaving only a show trial 23 mile ride today.

Walking around the harbor in Manitowoc was pleasant and offered plenty of sights. We were fascinated by the “fishing kayaks” we saw. Powered by foot pedals and very stable, they gently maneuvered around the harbor. We even saw one such fisherman land an active, jumping fish. The Farmers Market provided a colorful contrast to the dreary day. And we were able to see the USS Cobia up close by the Maritime Museum. It is one of 28 subs built in Manitowoc that saw action in WWII. We completed our walking tour at Manitowoc Coffee, where we gradually began drying out.

The afternoon brought our second water immersion experience. In this case, we boarded The Badger and spent four hours in the midst of Lake Michgan, crossing from Wisconsin to the Michigan side. The Badger was built in 1952 to carry rail cars across the lake, which it did until 1990. Just two years later, it began its new life as a car ferry. The thick black smoke that belched from its smoke stack nearly became its downfall when new EPA regulations were enacted. However, installing an ash retention system on its coal-fired steam engines kept the ferry in business. Just this year it was designated as a National Historic Landmark, and continues to make four crossings daily in the non-winter months.

Not long after departing from Manitowoc, the skis cleared and the day became hot and sunny. We spent most of the voyage out on deck where our clothes dried quickly in the sun. I reclined in a deck chair with my book for the afternoon. And I considered it a personal victory to be able to tolerate the waves that rocked the boat from side to side.

As the day ended, we were drawn back to the water one more time. Now in Michigan, our coastline faced west. Walking back to our motel after dinner, the sky was filled with fantastic cloud formations, highlighted by the last light of the day. And there at the horizon was the sun's finale, glowing red between lake and clouds.

From the early raindrops to the sun's retreat, it dominated our day. Water, water everywhere.

Sunset over Lake Michigan - by Rich Hoeg

Cycle Touring Made Easy

Posted on September 9, 2016 by Molly

We've been doing this long enough to know. Every cycling trip has its good days and bad. Moments of pure joy and periods of frustration. Pleasant weather and drenching rain. If I could design a near-perfect day of cycling, Day 1 of our Liberation Tour would come really close. It contained all the essential elements for great cycling.

A good a send-off. Having nourished us with a hearty steak dinner and homemade morning scones, our son Carl and his wife Chelsea cheered us on as we cycled away from their Milwaukee home. Sun shining, cool breezes and at least 1200 miles in front of us, life on a bike felt great.

Safe riding. Exiting a major city can be a hassle to say the least. Not so this time. The Oak Leaf Trail eliminated all traffic and congestion as we pedaled through leafy green park-like environs. The smooth pavement and dedicated corridor gave us a speedy and protected ride out of town.

Cycling Trail. Somewhere along the way, that trail merged seamlessly into the Interurban Trail and our bike route continued, covering 37 of our 58 miles for the day. Unlike some trails this one ran straight through towns, making it more interesting than purely cycling through the woods. Somehow, the areas it skirted seemed to be more affluent and well kept than most. Pristine farms with freshly painted barns. Tidy pastures with longhorn cattle. Upscale townhomes with beautifully landscaped yards. Even the wildflowers were brilliant and well behaved. The trail was flanked by a railway on one side and massive utility poles on the other. But we had no complaints – for that very reason it was flat, easy cycling.

Scenic Views. A local cyclist in Port Washington pointed us to the Dockside Deli for our mid-morning breakfast break. Sitting outdoors under an umbrella in the mild morning temperatures while looking out over the marina with Lake Michigan beyond was nirvana. Finding healthy food choices was an added benefit. Lingering came naturally.

Leisurely sightseeing. With the miles quickly gliding by, we felt in no hurry. Posing with a lawn ornament (Is this a “Purple Cow?”). Taking in the view of the river from the bridge in Cedarburg. Checking out the river park in Sheboygan Falls. Stopping to eat an apple at the Gibbsville Orchard. Plenty of time for all that.

Delightful weather. The cool morning gave way to sunny warmth. The wind was very light and always behind us. We detected a touch of humidity and admittedly it was reaching hot by the time we finished. But who can argue with warm and dry?

We are wise enough to know this can't last. So we savor the experience and know that today cycle touring was easy. We shall see what 4 weeks of tomorrows will bring.

Three Generations of Awe

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Molly

The scene: Our cabin. A modest 3-season cottage on North Star Lake, 25 miles north of Grand Rapids MN. In the heart of the Chippewa National Forest. At night.

The time: Labor Day Weekend. Affectionately known as Same Time Next Year for our annual tradition of spending summer’s final hurrah with family and friends. For 27 successive years.

The circumstances: A display of Northern Lights.

The set-up: Arriving a day ahead of time, well before the onslaught of kids, grandkids and long-term friends, Rich and I were at the cabin in time to see an amazing display of Northern Lights. Not only did we watch them from the dock even before the sunset was complete, but soon afterwards brilliant yellow-green arcs of light shot over the cabin, from east to west. It was clearly an exceptional display, and Rich was soon off in search of more scenic landscapes to photograph. While we have an excellent view from our dock, the foreground is not interesting enough for Rich’s photographic eye.

Day 2: Another good forecast for the Northern Lights. Pondering the lack of interest off our dock, Rich lures me to be his model. In exchange for a good back rub, I am to sit motionless in a kayak in the glow of the Northern Lights should they reappear. I admit, I am a cheap hire.

Our kids and grandkids are all expected to arrive some time that evening. Just as the final car pulls into the driveway, the Aurora also makes its appearance. No time for hellos, hugs or hauling stuff into the cabin. All are urgently summoned to the dock. There we all assemble and murmur our appreciation and marvel at once. It is the first time for many. Our son-in-law has his first view at the same time as his three kids. The evening is mild, the bugs are gone for the season, and it is a magical moment.

Ever the photographer, Rich captures the multi-generational assembly. Then calls in his favors. I am launched in the kayak and given strict instructions to paddle here and hold still. Shift over there and stop. Don’t breathe. It takes numerous shots to get a single good one, but we all agree it’s stunning.

I look forward to the back rub. But even more I treasure that moment on the dock. From 14 months to 61 years of age, we all shared the same awe.

(Photos courtesy of Rich Hoeg, 365DaysOfBirds.com)

Discovering the Lost 40

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Molly

A bike ride is always better when there is a good destination. So I was thrilled when Rich proposed that we bicycle to the Lost 40. It’s not far from our cabin, but in the 26 years that we’ve owned it we have never been there. This visit was long overdue.

In 1882 intrepid surveyors camp in the November chill and swirling snow to survey the Minnesota Northwoods. Somehow, an error in their calculations places Coddington Lake about 1/2 mile further northwest than it actually lies. As a result, the timber in that area appears to be under water and is never logged. Today, those lost acres (actually 144 acres) of old growth timber are a local treasure.

The National Forest designates this as a Point of Interest. It is a very low-key attraction on a dirt road with only a sign and a parking loop marking its entrance. But the 2-mile trail through the forest is well worth a visit.

The trail is easily followed, with a wide flat surface. There are just enough informational signs to be interesting without interrupting the flow of a leisurely walk. I learn to distinguish the bark of a white pine vs a red pine. I try in vain to find the fern-like seedlings of cedar trees. I can see the effects of the rust disease brought in by imported pine species. I hug an enormous red pine. And admire a massive white pine. These trees are up to 350 years old and between 22 and 48 inches in diameter.

There is no admission fee. No visitor center. The only amenity is an upscale porta potty. The trees are the attraction. They sell themselves. We are lucky they are still there. No longer lost, they remain for us to see and appreciate. I sure enjoyed discovering them.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Monthly Archives: September 2016

Start and Stop Cycling

And then there were three

Water, Water Everywhere

Cycle Touring Made Easy

Three Generations of Awe

Discovering the Lost 40

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