I set out from Antigo, Wisconsin under questionable skies. It was cool, at least for this Floridian, temperatures were in the mid-forties Fahrenheit. Heading east on WI 64 the road was mildly hilly but not much of a challenge after a good night’s rest.
So far, the hotels have been really welcoming and accommodating. I always feel a little apprehensive showing up with a bicycle that has been collecting road grime all day, but I’ve never been made to feel unwelcome. I do try to wipe it down before I arrive, only to be fair.
About seven miles out from Antigo, I joined up with the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) coast-to-coast route that comes from further north. This was fortunate because I’m carrying their printed maps. They’re nice maps, printed on waterproof paper and they point out things a bicyclist will find useful, such as water sources, restaurants and places to camp. As I rejoined the ACA route, T-mobile became totally nonexistent. Without the T-mobile data stream, my GPS is hopeless.
Heading south on the ACA route, I managed to avoid any serious rain and had a comfortable day’s ride, managing almost 50 miles (76 km). At one point. the map had me somewhat confused and I wandered around near Tilleda until a fellow (Henry) at a small park signaled for me to come over. I explained what I was trying to do. The road ahead was WI 29, a divided highway. It didn’t have any signs prohibiting bicycle travel, but it isn’t any fun traveling on a road such as that. He looked at my map and explained that I should head back towards town and take a right. When I returned to town I still didn’t see the route I was looking for. When all else fails, read the instructions. The maps have a column on the side that gives a verbal description of the route, such as: “A, 18.5 (30) Turn left onto Ball Park Rd. B, 20 (32)Turn right onto Rock Rd…” I had already passed Ball Park Rd twice but wasn’t aware I was supposed to turn there. Dummy. I stopped in the Post Office and the kind lady there straightened me out. In the process, I lost about half an hour and rode about four extra miles for nothing. Incidentally, the previous “18.5 (30)” is the miles and kilometer distances.
I rode through one town yesterday that had an eerie feeling about it. I felt like I was riding into a Stephen King novel. The people were looking at me very strangely, they would just stare and didn’t look friendly.
My stomach needed sustenance, it had been some time since breakfast. I went into a market that had a small deli in the back. Everything was deep-fried, I mean everything. No sandwiches, sliced meats, salad…nothing. I had some fried jalapeno and corn thing.
Some fellow, maybe the owner, came along and asked about my travels. I told him I was headed east, towards Massachusetts. He started telling me he was going to pray for me and Jesus would take care of me and he made a point to have everyone else in there pray for me as well. It was really weird. He couldn’t say a complete sentence with the word, “Lord,” “Jesus,” or “prayer” in it, I mean not a single sentence. Everybody else in there was the same way. A few just stared, with really empty eyes and didn’t say anything. As I went out the door somebody yelled they were going to pray for me, and our President. I never dreamed I would end up in a sentence with him, but there it is. I couldn’t wait to get out of there!
As I was riding out of town I notice that there were an inordinate number of signs with all sorts of bible quotes and psalm lines. I pedaled even faster…what a weird place. In all my years of travel, that was the strangest experience. I’m surprised Cujo didn’t come out of a yard to chase me out of town.
But was there banjo music?