Author Archives: Molly

Just in time Cycling

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The ferry to Grand Portage was a totally different experience from yesterday’s boat from the Michigan side – in more ways than one. First of all, it was a much different boat. This was the U.S. Mail boat, not primarily a passenger vessel. It was a lot smaller and was a 2-person low key operation. Highly efficient and seaworthy, but bare bones. Secondly, in addition to making mail quick stops around the island, it also picked up and dropped off hikers from various points on the island. Hence, it clung to the shore and made numerous stops on the island before heading back to the mainland. In fact, the actual crossing took less than two hours out of our 6 1/2 hour trip. And finally, and most importantly, I felt just fine. Hurray!!! The winds were much less, and the most we had were 1-3 foot swells, with much of the trip being even calmer than that. It was so nice to be able to enjoy the trip this time.
Molly on the ferry - feeling good!It was a long day on the ferry, and highly relaxing given the slow nature of the trip. Venturing into the inlets to pick up hikers was very pretty, and traveling the deep recesses into the island reminded us of the archipelagos of Scandinavia. Beyond that we entertained ourselves by talking to other passengers, trading our cycling stories for their hiking tales. We did quite a bit of reading, but I will admit to doing more snoozing than reading. Unlike yesterday, the boat’s motion kept lulling me to sleep. I didn’t mind a bit.

It was close to 4:00pm by the time our bikes were unloaded from the boat and we were ready to head down the North Shore. After hours of forced inactivity on the boat, it felt good to be doing something physical again. We had renewed energy in our cycling, pushing the pace faster than usual. We were pleased to find that that section of highway 61 had enormous shoulders, which lasted all the way to Grand Marais. Given the late hour, this was not the day to stop for sightseeing. But there were plenty of lake views in that section of the North Shore to welcome us back to Minnesota.

Try as we might, we couldn’t ignore the rain clouds overhead which dropped a few sprinkles on us. Soon they were producing lightening strikes over the lake. When the rumbles of thunder became closer and more insistent, we pressed on even harder. Rain began to fall In earnest as we entered Grand Marais. Before we got too wet, we found our motel, checked in and stashed our bikes in the room. Just minutes later, heavy thunderstorms and rain blanketed the area. Boy, did we time that right! Even better, after showering and settling in, the rain let up and allowed us to go out for dinner, make a trip to DQ and walk around the harbor.

The trip seems to take on a different feel from this point on. Our long distances are behind us, as are the hills. So it feels like we can practically coast home. In addition, we are now on familiar territory. No more surprises in our route – we know what the North Shore will throw at us. That is both reassuring and a disappointment. Seeing new places and exploring different parts of Lake Superior has been a highlight of the trip. It’s different cycling it than driving it in a car though, and I’m sure our remaining two days will provide us with ample experiences. And heaven only knows what must-see sights Rich will find along the way.

I’d Rather be Cycling

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Our day off. We had a respite from cycling to take the ferry from Copper Harbor to Rock Harbor on Isle Royale National Park. Rich was like a little kid, he was so excited. It was his first time on Isle Royale and he’d never crossed the middle of Lake Superior before. My anticipation took a slightly different angle. I was looking forward to returning to Isle Royale after a visit 40 (ouch!) years ago. And I was game to take the ferry, even though I have consistently been prone to seasickness. After all, it was an adventure.

The first sound I heard upon waking this morning was the lines of a nearby sailboat clanking against the mast, and the wind whistling through our open windows. I chose to think positively and put my faith in the Bonine that I took prior to boarding the boat. The sun was shining, we watched in amazement as they hoisted our bikes, panniers and all, with a single hand up to the top storage deck, and mingled with the hearty hikers boarding the boat.

It was a four hour crossing, and I made it less than an hour inside the cabin. As soon as we cleared the harbor, we were in deep swells. I watched wide-eyed as the horizon alternately dipped then rose out of sight on the opposite side. Wow, I’d never been in seas like this before! But my confidence remained high, and surprisingly I was not scared as the boat pitched and tossed at wild angles. Before long, however, I took stock of my body and gamely trained my eyes on the horizon on our side of the boat. It was much more stable in comparison. But the water won.

Soon I was dashing out the door onto the back deck of the boat. There I firmly gripped the railing and leaned over the side as advised by the crew. When that first wave of retching subsided (and it was only the first of many) I determined that I was there to stay. I firmly planted my feet apart, tightened my noose-like hold on the railing, and set my sights on the disappearing Michigan mainland straight being us. I used my legs to absorb the sway of the boat, desperately working to keep my upper body as verticle as possible. The fresh air that blew around me felt good, if only it hadn’t been tainted by diesel fumes.

It was an interminable three more hours. I found weak fascination in watching the clashing waves and gusty spray that created myriad patterns behind the boat. But that’s about all I had to engage my brain. Looking left or right was not an option, nor was talking. Not that my companions were interested in lively conversation. I had plenty of company out there, all in the same state. It’s no wonder, as we were in 6 foot swells. The crew described it as “worse than average” but not out of the norm for this time of year. If standing under the trees shivering in the pouring rain was miserable, this was abject agony. I would much rather have been cycling, even struggling up the steepest hill.

Rich suffered no such affectation, wouldn’t you know. On his visit out to commiserate with me, he was bouncing all around, looking at everything and clearly enjoying himself. All I wanted was to block him from my peripheral vision – I couldn’t handle the additional motion. He spent time out on the front deck, hanging on for dear life, getting hit by the spray, but loving it. I had to rely on his pictures to relive the scenic entrance to Isle Royale after the fact.

It took a nap and a few bites of salty crackers to restore any semblance of normalcy once we reached shore. But I was relieved to rally enough to get outside to explore our small area of the island and take a canoe out with Rich to paddle the pristine waterway in Tobin Harbor. Ironically, I didn’t mind being back out on the water. It was flat and calm there, and shore was only a few strokes away. We paddled in search of the cabin still owned by a friend, the last generation of his family to be allowed to hold private property in the park. In the vast expanse of wilderness here, we saw little harm that the remaining cabins posed.

Isle Royale is a beautiful place. Its deeply forested terrain and rocky shores bordered by deep blue waters were especially nice on a sunny, warm day like today. I would like to have gotten out for a short hike, but Rich was dedicated to keeping it a rest day, and certainly my body needed it. So like the other lodge guests, who are staying in relative luxury compared to the hikers, we took advantage of the amenities while still appreciating the nature all around us.

Tomorrow it’s back to cycling again. But not until I brave another ferry ride over to the Minnesota side. Some travelers who arrived on that boat today clued me in to the first mate, Kirk. They vouched for him as a venerable seasickness coach. Kirk, I’ll be looking for you tomorrow morning.

Best cycling yet – Coastal Bliss

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We both agree. This was our best day of cycling yet. Instead of being another long ride to complete the next leg of our journey, it felt more like a pleasure ride. And we loved every minute of it.

So what made it so special? Hugging the coastline. It was infinitely relaxing to cycle along with beautiful views of Lake Superior. We relished the small local roads that were devoid of traffic. And the weather gods favored us today. With forecasts of zero percent chance of rain, westerly winds to help push us along our way, and sunshine for most of the day, we had it made. It doesn’t get much better than that for cycling.

We first followed the waterway that leads from Houghton out to Lake Superior on the western side of the peninsula. The final vestiges of the morning’s fog burned off as we rode and revealed calm waters and sun soaked dwellings and boat houses on the opposite shore. Everything was bathed in the golden sun of morning, leaving a feeling of peacefulness.

The western shoreline offered plenty of scenery. We enjoyed seeing the wide variety of lake homes, cottages and mansions that lined the shore. Parks seemed to be frequently interspersed with the private lands, offering us opportunities to explore the beach, watch waves come crashing in, and take dozens of pictures. We found several lighthouse to check out along the way. And there was an historic bridge to see, although we were more fascinated with the arched wooden architecture of the newer replacement bridge. Waterfalls cascaded down the hillside and under the road. And there was always the big lake. As we neared Copper Harbor, the sandy beaches gave way to rockier shores, more like home.

Our route had just one minor flaw. It forced us inland for a short distance, and that could only mean UP. We knew it was coming, we just didn’t know how bad it would be. When we rounded that corner, we could see the road rising in front of us. Not traversing the incline on an angle, not meandering, straight up. And I’m convinced that the sun chose just that time to beat down particularly fiercely. It took our lowest gears and a lot of pedal rotations, but we made it! Two and a half miles. However, on the flip side, we seemed to get a lot of mileage out of that rise in elevation. On our return to the shore, we got the longest drawn out downhill coast back to the water.

Now anyone who has read any of my previous posts about this cycling tour knows that treats are a required element of each day’s travels. While we normally favor ice cream or smoothies, today when faced with a cute little bakery in the curve of the road we just had to stop. But little did we know that The Jampot was more than just an ordinary bakery. It was the outlet for the labors of the Society of St. John Monastery, which was founded on the nearby shore by a small group of monks in 1983. Their initial penchant for picking wild berries and baking soon turned into a venture able to support their little community. We were served by a pleasant monk who happily described the plethora of decadent flavors of muffins, and left with a heavy bag of goodies. Only half of them made it into my panniers…

Our little motel in Copper Harbor was ideally situated right on the water, with a picturesque view of the harbor. What a great choice! We even had a back deck in a garden setting where we could relax and enjoy the view. Rich chose to use that spot for a different purpose… repairing a flat. In keeping with today’s theme of perfection, his back tire chose to deflate at the entrance to our motel. Even the first equipment failure did not blemish our cycling.

It’s a good thing that tomorrow is our “day off” from cycling. It would be difficult to top today’s ride.

Cycling with Mother Nature

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We operate by our body clocks. We were up at the usual early hour, but lost an hour to the Michigan time change. It seemed strange that the sunrise was just after 7am, but we enjoyed watching it from our beach just the same.

Today we cycled coast-to-coast across the Keweenaw Peninsula and then up the eastern shore to Houghton. There is not a lot of population on the peninsula, so I decided to focus my camera on the beauty of the nature we encountered along the way.

Sunrise over the western shore of the peninsula at Ontonagon.

We have been enamored with the windflowers blooming along the roadside throughout our trip. My favorite are the purple blossoms.

Fall colors are definitely beginning to show in the maple trees.

Fantastic clouds formulate over pastoral farmland in the interior of the peninsula.

Tall pine trees line the road going north from Baraga to Houghton.

The eastern shore, cycling along Keweenaw Bay.

We experienced another aspect of Mother Nature as well today. After having been blessed with sunshine throughout our trip so far, our luck ran out less than 20 miles short of our final destination. We thought we had out-biked the rain, leaving a few thin showers behind us, but that was nothing in comparison to the squall that slammed into our path. Within a matter of minutes, the temperature plummeted, sheets of rain came pouring down and gusts of wind blew right into us. Fortunately, Rich spotted a thick grove of pine trees across the road. We dashed over there and huddled in the relative protection of the trees waiting for the rain to subside. I was amazed at how well sheltered we were in comparison to the torrents falling on the road. The rain did indeed abate allowing us to resume our ride, although it was wet and chilly cycling (Rich called it “miserable”) and semis showered us with roadspray. Then just as suddenly the sun returned. The amazing warming power of the sun was such that when an ice cream stand materialized on the side of the road, we didn’t hesitate to stop. Two huge blackberry smoothies were happily consumed as we parked ourselves on a picnic bench and basked in the sunshine. Mother Nature wooed us back into her good graces that easily.

Wilderness Cycling

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I have to compliment my tour planner and co-cyclist, Rich, on today’s route. It was stunning! If you like wilderness and quiet scenery, this is the itinerary for you. And I think even Rich was awed by the perfection of today’s ride. In fact I know so – he said as much!

After a necessary 10 miles on Highway 2, we turned away from traffic and civilization and headed into the wilderness. The first 15 miles were on a road leading to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. It could have been a bike path. We shared the road with only a few passing cars and traveled undisturbed down the tree-lined lane as mile after mile of smooth pavement uncurled in front of us. We were prepared to find hills, which we did, but most were reasonable grades alternating between up and down.

We then turned onto South Boundary Road, which traverses the perimeter of the park. Our near-solitude continued as did our appreciation of the sun, the trees, the rivers and the wilderness. Having hiked in the area, we had vivid memories of clambering down and up the steep sides of the ravines in our path. We were relieved to find that road construction techniques alleviated such dips. Nevertheless, the road began to climb steadily, and looking into the distance we could see the high ridge of trees defining the summit – a sobering sight. It was a solid 10 miles uphill, mostly a gentle grade, but a challenging pitch at times. It gave us great pleasure to top the hill and begin our descent, which lasted 15 miles. We faced a strong headwind as we neared Lake Superior, but had no complaints mixing that with our downhill rush.

We rejoiced to see Lake Superior in the distance, and the view upon arrival was impressive. The pristine sand beach was enhanced by trees and white crested waves rolling into shore. What a difference from the rocky coastline we are accustomed to on the North Shore, yet beautiful in its uniqueness. Our final 15 miles closely followed the shore. Our view of the lake disappeared when private land intervened, but the water was close enough that we could get a glimpse of it down the driveways and periodically between properties. For us it was enough to know the great lake was there. Traveling lakeside also had the advantage of being blessedly flat. This time at the end of the day we left the hard work behind us and glided up to our motel near Ontonagon.

This trip just keeps getting better.

Cycling sights – a purple cow?

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It felt a lot milder when we set off from Bayfield this morning, and indeed at 52 degrees was nearly 10 degrees above yesterday’s start. We saw a beautiful sunrise over Lake Superior and enjoyed a quiet ride alongside the lake down to Ashland. It was a good start to day 2 of our Trans-Superior Cycling Tour.

Not even the early morning hours can deter Rich from his tourist stops. This morning as we passed what appeared to me to be a junkyard, he shouted out, “Look! A purple cow!”. Surely he wasn’t going to stop for that? I should have known better. He eagerly dragged me back to see this creature, which stood among other large scale wood carvings, and required a picture. Before we could make our retreat, we were scrutinized by a man who materialized in the drive. Once he determined that we were harmless, he offered to show us around his father’s studio. He led us back to a fairy tale-like set of buildings in a garden setting, and a workshop full of intricate carvings. Who would have guessed? Perhaps Rich’s weird taste has merit now and then.

Along our way we discovered a distinct phenomenon. Each rise brought us nice warm air, and on each downhill the temperature plummeted. Soon I felt as chilled as yesterday! I eagerly anticipated the hot breakfast that awaited us somewhere in Ashland, and was ultimately rewarded with hot coffee and pancakes. We exited the restaurant to an entirely different day. The looming clouds overhead had dissipated, leaving sunshine in their wake. Once we turned inland, away from the lake, the temperatures rose quickly and we cycled through a real summer day. We had a solid tale wind, which provided little relief from the warmth, but we readily traded that for the extra boost it gave us.

I have decided that each day’s cycling on this trip poses a unique challenge. Today’s was highway miles. I knew we had 40 miles of cycling along Highway 2, which is a main thoroughfare, and was apprehensive about the traffic. It then became 50 miles when our alternate route to avoid a section of highway was torn up for repair. Thankfully, my fears were for naught. A large portion of the distance was on new pavement with wide shoulders, the traffic was very reasonable, and trucks gave us a wide berth whenever possible. Probably the larger downside was that it was a long, straight road with little diversion in scenery. Woods dominated over farms this time, and we passed few sights that gave us reason to pause our ride. We did find the Hanka Finnish Homestead Museum outside of Ironwood to be a pretty and peaceful park with a fun giftshop of Scandinavian goods.

Today’s destination was the Black River Crossing B&B outside of Bessemer. We’d been there last winter, and enjoyed it so much we were eager to return. Our hosts Sue and Stan greeted us like old friends and saw to our every need, as before. We spent a peaceful afternoon in the lovely garden surroundings, with the sounds of waterfalls, light breezes, and sunshine playing on the beautiful plantings and flowers. We’ve already been invited to their evening barbecue with friends, so we needn’t even venture out for dinner. And we’re more than happy to be pampered. We feel we’ve earned it.

First Day Cycling – Idyllic

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We could not have asked for a better day to start our Trans-Superior Cycling Tour! Well, okay, I readily admit that it was a might chilly when we set off. A bank temperature reading confirmed that it was only 43 degrees. And I shivered and stiffened up during those initial miles. But the sun rose quickly and warmed our bodies and my attitude.

Traveling along highway 13 to Bayfield was a cyclist’s dream. The road surface was excellent, there was a good shoulder, and traffic was light. Add to that a perfectly sunny day, the wind mostly at our backs, and pastoral farmland scenery interspersed with forest and views of Lake Superior and you have a ride that can’t be beat. I might not have chosen to have the hilliest portion of the route in the last 20 miles, but even that could not detract from the experience. Probably the biggest drawback to the day was knowing that we could never replicate its perfection.

True to the nature of this tour, we made several stops along the way. An historical site with a Finnish homestead and windmill caught our attention, and proved to be beautifully cared for and well preserved. The first wayside rest with a view of Lake Superior demanded a visit. We couldn’t pass up the “Best Food on the Circle Tour” so we paused at Ruxy’s Cottage Cafe in Port Wing for a fresh cinnamon roll. The harbor in Cornocopia was a scenic diversion, with picturesque boats and little shops. And everything was enhanced by the beautiful sunny weather. Probably our most interesting stop came about completely by accident. I happened to spot the Lake Superior Binational Forum Symbol – the same one that adorns our cycling shirts – on the door or a roadside building. Returning to investigate, Bruce Lindgren stepped outside, and we soon learned that he is a member and co-chair of the Forum! He was pleased to learn of our association with the Forum and a lively conversation ensued, fueled by our mutual care for Lake Superior.

Arriving at our destination, the descent into Bayfield was a picturesque (and welcome) sight. Sailboats and other vessels dotted the deep blue waters of Lake Superior as the quaint buildings of this pretty town came into view. At the first available cafe, we deserted our bikes and emerged with lake berry breeze smoothies and consumed them in the warmth of the sunshine. Oh, were they good.

I would have to say that this was a most successful start to our trip. We’ve enjoyed a delicious and ample dinner and are now resting in our motel with a lovely view of the lake and the setting sun. We’re tired, but happily so. And tomorrow’s another day on the Tour.

Cycling Tour – Poised and Ready

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Tomorrow’s the day.  Finally!  I hate to think of it as wishing the summer away, but I have been looking forward to our Trans-Superior Cycling Tour all summer long, and now it’s here.  So how do I feel?

Ready – I’ve done the training.  We’ll see if it’s enough, but I’m confident I can handle the 500 miles of the trip.  I suspect my bottom will be more sore than my legs.  Our bikes are tuned up and we’re prepared for basic repairs, but hoping we won’t need those skills  much.

Excited – I can’t wait to be outdoors, do the cycling, meet people, see things along the way and stop for ice cream or coffee – depending on the weather.  And it’s vacation after all. It may not be everyone’s dream vacation, but to us it’s a great adventure.

Anxious – Weather probably holds the greatest unknown for me.  Now that the heat has broken, it looks like we will have chilly mornings, comfortable days and cool evenings.  Did I pack the right layers to be warm enough?  This is beginning to feel like the night before a marathon.  Only it’s a lot harder to predict 9 days than 4 hours.

Practical – I think I can take pride in my packing.  We’re talking bare bones – two sets of cycling clothes on the “wear one, wash one” plan.  Little in the way of civilian clothes.  And my iPad, of course.  I still have excess room in my panniers.  How did that happen?  The trick will be not to fill them up before our departure.

Curious – What will it really be like, cycling all day every day for 8 of the 9 days?  Will it really be “500 Miles of Love” as it says on our shirts?  Time will tell.  Starting tomorrow.

Cycle Tour Statistics

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We have had our route for the Trans-Superior Cycling Tour planned for months.  And Rich has mapped it out mile by mile.  “What about the elevations?”  I ask.  I’m curious.  We’ll be going through the Porcupine Mountains – doesn’t that imply some pretty impressive hills?  I kind of like to know what I’m getting into.  Not Rich.  “It is what it is” he says.  I agree that knowing ahead of time won’t change anything, but I’m still unable to leave it alone.  Gmaps-pedometer will calculate that data, so here it is:

Interesting.  The day in the Porcupines has one of the least elevations gains, and it is a net loss in elevation for the day.  It looks like Day 5 heading up to Copper Harbor is where I’d better be prepared for those hills.  Particularly since it is a shorter day’s ride – check out the average gain per mile, a measure of my own calculation.  Good thing we have a rest day following that leg of the trip.

So far these are just abstract numbers.  Pretty meaningless, really.  Best to look at some of my training rides.  I’ve been doing hills, right?  Average gain per mile should be a good way to compare.  Hmmm…   Even my hilliest routes are below the “easiest” day of our tour.  This may be more challenging than I realized!  At least I know beforehand.  Just don’t tell Rich.

It’s Farmers Market Season!

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I love the Farmers Market. The sights, the sounds, the colors, and smells. Being there first thing in the morning is the best.

I remember going to the Duluth Farmers Market with my mom or dad early on Saturday mornings. The humble structure filled with friendly farmers and all their freshest produce was humming with activity. Being regulars meant knowing each stall, talking to the vendors and finding out what was best to buy that morning.

Living in the Twin Cities for many years, I frequented the Minneapolis Farmers Market. Although everyone seems to flock to the market on Saturdays, it feels more like a festival than a market to me. The craft vendors and extras all detracted from the experience. And it’s really crowded. I prefer weekday mornings. In the cool temperatures of the early morning, with the sun shining in at a low angle, it’s just the real farmers, tables of vegetables and rows of flowers. I’m competing for space with only a few shoppers inspecting the goods and making their selections. Even though I was usually on my way to work, it was the ideal time out. I could never feel hurried, and I felt inspired by all the fresh and wholesome goods surrounding me.

I’m pleased so see a resurgence of Farmers Markets. They are cropping up in small towns, suburban communities and roadside stands. All the better for the farmers and shoppers like me. I’m eager to get reacquainted with the Duluth Farmers Market. Maybe one day I too will know all the locals selling the wonderful fresh produce.