For most of the country it is cold, maybe snow covered and the nights are long. The video included here has nothing to do with long distance bike riding, but it does show long distance hiking, my other favorite activity.
I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2007-2008. As many of my readers know, I didn’t do it all in one year because I had to leave the trail in Virginia (starting in Georgia), after 600 miles of hiking, because I needed a six-artery heart bypass operation. After recovering for 300 days I did get back on the trail and finish walking all 2200 miles.
“New York Minute” and I hiked together on-and-off from southern Virginia in the 2008 section. He did a very nice video of our last 100+ miles in Maine. If you’re bored, or snowed in, get a hot tea, sit back and enjoy watching a true outdoor adventure.
Tired, wet, cold, exhausted, yet satisfied it is almost over. I still have to go dip a wheel in the Atlantic.
Arrived at my daughter, Áine and son-in-law’s home at 17:05 after 39.54 miles (64 km). The trip total is 4091.62 miles, or 6585 km.
I set out from Nashua, NH late in the morning, figuring there was no rush. I forgot to check the weather forecast. Around Salem, NH it started to get colder and started raining. Even though I am familiar with the area, I decided to use the GPS to find the shortest route.
I haven’t lived here in many years and there are all sorts of new residential areas. Using the GPS bicycle navigation it took me through many areas I wasn’t familiar with. As the rain intensified, the raindrops started hitting the phone/GPS screen and acted as finger taps. I would look down and see a map of the world with a little red spot showing I was in the United States, or it would have opened some other app, such as Solitaire. It was getting useless, so I carried the phone in my rain coat pocket.
It would mumble something about “GPS signal lost.” I took to taking the phone out, restarting GPS, memorizing the next few miles and then putting it away. This really slowed progress.
When I arrived in Haverhill, MA, it was a downpour. Suddenly, something splashed into my right eye and I couldn’t see a thing. I’m figuring some toxic waste from the road had blinded me. It was burning like hell. Then I realized that I had not ridden in the rain for some weeks. All my dried sweat had accumulated in my helmet and the water was now releasing it, it would then drip down into my face and eyes. I cannot describe how painful it was, totally blinding me. I pulled over and wiped out what I could. With all the potholes and puddles, I needed keen eyesight, it could have proved dangerous.
Even though I had a good breakfast at a Paneras and stopped for a BLT at an IHOP, I was running low on energy. My body, for the last few days, was begging me to stop. I kept going but found that I was getting off the bike and pushing it up the smallest hills, I just had nothing left. It is fortunate that this trip is coming to a close, if not, I could see having to take a week off to build up my strength again. This wasn’t such a problem when I was younger, am I getting old? Perhaps? Naw, couldn’t be. Maybe I’m just getting over that cold I had.
When I was about a mile from Áine’s home a road crossing had a sign that said the road was closed, the bridge was out. I was tempted to ride down and see if I could get across with a bicycle (I know the bridge) but decided to ride around the lake. I just couldn’t fathom having to come back up from the bridge, so added another three miles (5 km) to the ride. So be it, I was too tired to argue with myself.
Me, consulting with rest and sleep master, “Midnight.” When it comes to sleep, he is an expert.
I let myself into the house. The dog was glad to see me, but the cat (Midnight) was absolutely thrilled. What a strange twist, it is usually the other way around. In any case, following some rest, I will continue with this story in another post. I’m too tired to continue.
The day started out cool and sunny in Brattleboro, VT. It was a quick ride down a very steep hill to the bridge crossing the Connecticut River into New Hampshire. I decided that, for the most part, I would just follow NH119 east. It was a good choice, the road surface was excellent, with plenty of shoulder room. Unfortunately, until I reached Fitzwilliam, NH it was very much like the road out of Bennington, VT, lots of climbing and running out of breath.
Jack, W1PFZ, welcoming me to the east coast. We had never met in person, only via ham radio.
About 13 miles along, I spotted a fellow on the other side of the road standing next to his vehicle and waving his arms at me. For whatever reason, I somehow suspected it was a ham radio friend that I had never met in person, Jack, W1PFZ. Sure enough, he had been following my postings here and calculated where he thought I might be. He drove up with Ann (sp?) from Ashburnham, MA just to be my personal welcoming party to the east coast. How cool is that? Hams are like that, I wonder if there is a medication for it?
After Fitzwilliam, I continued east on NH119 and the road became more level. Of course, by then, my energy was sapped. A typical ride on level ground with just the weight of the bike is around 3400 calories for a 70-mile ride. I would venture that the first twenty miles of today’s ride burned that much. Judging by my serious weight loss, I suspect I’m not too far off the mark. By the end of the day, my legs are rubber. These New England hills are the toughest part of the coast-to-coast ride. My daughter, Aine, said the same thing when she did this ride.
I’ve been seeing groups of 10-20 turkeys everywhere I go. They usually scatter before I can get a good photo. I hope they get the memo about Thanksgiving.
When I was a kid in Connecticut, I rarely saw any wild turkeys. They were practically extinct in the region. Through care and concern, they have been brought back, and they have certainly recovered. In NY and New England, I am seeing them everywhere, in huge numbers. I would venture that on today’s ride I’ve seen at least 2000 birds. I laughed when, a few weeks back, I saw a bear chasing a turkey, to no avail. The wild turkey, unlike its domestic relative, is very cagey and smart, the bear never had a chance.
NH119 turned into MA119 in Massachusetts. It became a pothole hell. It was actually dangerous on a bicycle, motorcycle, or in a small car with narrow tires. Some of the holes were a foot deep and I really had to watch for them. Going 40 MPH (65 km/h) downhill, with tearing eyes, it became a dangerous game. At one point, as a car was passing, I had to revert to my old mountain bike talents and force the bicycle to “jump” over a very deep hole at top speed. I just cleared the pothole. Had I gone into it there would have been serious rim damage, or worse. I should have taken a photo. The pothole, one of the thousands, was at least a 3-4 feet (1 m) across and a foot (.33 m) deep.
Later, in a restaurant, I saw a politician in a campaign ad claiming to have cut taxes in Massachusetts (I think it was the current governor, Charlie Baker). I’d love to invite him to ride MA119 with me across the state. If he survived it, he’d be less inclined to brag about cutting taxes and subsequently, cutting road maintenance. Sorry if I vent on this, but this is outright dangerous and when they cut taxes, they should explain what else gets cut…there is no free lunch. I’ll bet automobile front-end business is thriving.
I really wanted to make it to the Nashua, NH area for the evening. This would put me in a good spot to finish the next day in Newburyport, MA. I pushed on as the sun got lower and lower. It finally started getting dark enough that I had to turn on my headlamp and three rear lights. At around 19:15 I rolled into a Motel 6 on Spit Brook Rd, Nashua, NH and found that they did in fact, “Leave the light on,” for me. I don’t know what the temperature was, but several folks asked me if I was cold, the locals thought it was cold. When working that hard, I must admit, I didn’t even notice.
It was a 72 mile (120 km) day. I was spent, but happy. I put the bike in the room, walked out for an evening meal and was asleep by 22:00. In all, it was a good day. Tomorrow, it is on to Newburyport.
The things you see when you travel. I wasn’t certain if I had arrived in the middle east, or perhaps, Greece. Saints Peter and Paul Orthodox Church, Herkimer, NY
Fighting a cold and riding is no fun. The runny nose, tired and no enthusiasm make for a long day. I left the hotel around 9:30 am and went to a fast-food place to wait out a storm. I was on the road around 11:30.
Everything was wet and dismal, including my attitude. After a short 22.37 miles (36 km), I was done. A Travelodge Motel appeared before my eyes and in I went at 14:00 (2 pm). NyQuil and a bed called.
Sorry it wasn’t a more exciting day, but Momma said there would be days like this.
Sometimes the canal towpath is well marked, such as with this sign. Other times there is no sign at all, or it is so faded as to be unreadable.
An easy 23 mile (39 km) day. I rode from Weedsport to Syracuse in good weather. My GPS was actually working and allowed me to find the car rental place without difficulty. The original rental (on line) showed some sort of small SUV, I ended up with an Altima sedan, it was supposedly an upgrade, but putting a bicycle in it looked daunting.
Fortunately, the rear seats folded down. We couldn’t figure out how to bring down the driver’s side rear-seat and the rep had to run off. I finally looked in the manual and found there is a strap hanging down when one opens the trunk, pulling on it released the seat.
The opening wasn’t quite wide enough to load the bike into the car. Once I removed the bicycle’s seat, I was able to get it in…barely. After about an hour, I was good to go.
I’ll skip the next few days, except for a few important things. I went to my daughter’s in Newburyport, MA. As planned, Jane (my spouse) was to arrive there and I did meet her as planned. On Saturday night, we attended a friend’s wedding. While dancing, Jane managed to injure her knee with a meniscus tear. While dancing she claimed she heard something “pop.” Additionally, she was wearing awful shoes for walking and dancing. All the stressed added up.
Lessons on how to destroy a left knee.
She walked out to the car without much pain, but by the time we returned to our daughter’s place, she had difficulty getting out of the car and winced at every little move. I felt she should get it looked at, but she was concerned about catching her plane back to Florida the next morning. We went to bed and at around 1 am, we got up and headed to the Anna Jaques hospital emergency room. As luck would have it, our son-in-law had a walker and it allowed Jane to make it to the car. Without it, I think it would have been an ambulance ride, what with stairways and all. At this point she was in extreme pain.
The staff at the hospital were excellent and, following an X-ray, determined it was the meniscus tear. They gave her crutches and lessons and a leg support and sent us home. She did manage to make her flight to Florida, although Homeland gave her the going over because she had to be a terrorist wearing a leg brace. Go figure. She brought along the hospital paperwork, just in case, but I guess that wasn’t good enough.
The bike fully loaded. I’ve abandoned the yellow tent on the back, and the sleeping pad under it and the contents of the left pannier (the radio gear). The bag on the front is now in the left pannier.
After sending Jane off I faced a decision. I had tried to convince her that I should postpone the ride again and go back to Florida to help her. She INSISTED that I continue. I agreed but felt that I should make haste to finish. With that in mind, I have jettisoned my tent, sleeping mat and, this is painful: my ham radio station. This lightened the load by twenty-two pounds (10 kg). My thinking is I will be able to travel quicker in the mountains ahead and I won’t really have time to stop for leisurely radio operation. I know this will be disappointing for my ham radio friends, but such is life. I will promise, when I get to Newburyport, MA to fire up the radio (letting everyone know in advance) and contact those of you that have missed me thus-far. After that I will ride the bike down to the Atlantic Ocean and do the traditional “wheel dip.” Oddly, it won’t be with the same bike I started with, I totaled it in Minnesota.
I returned to Syracuse, NY on Monday. After dropping of the rental car, I again headed east. The GPS guided me through all the Syracuse back streets and in no time, I was back on the Eire Canal towpath. The day was sunny and very windy, but the towpath has so many trees around it that the first forty miles (65 km) were relatively easy. I decided I would go to a Best Western motel that I had stayed in the night before, in Utica, NY. It was 65 miles (103 km) and would be a good destination. Little did I know the last 25 miles (40 km) would, you guessed it, have severe headwinds. I had started around noon and figured I would make it well before nightfall, but my speed cut to half, the wind was getting worse and worse.
At one point, there was a big gust and I heard a sharp crack and the top of a tree snapped off and landed right in front of me! I stopped with about 20 feet to spare (6 m).
This tree top crashed, right in front of me. I had already removed a bunch of it when it occurred to me that I should take a photo. I laid the bike on its side because it doesn’t have a kickstand.
The sun kept getting lower and lower and I was racing to beat the darkness. The GPS indicated I was getting close. It was getting colder and darker. I finally came upon Harbor Lock, and knew that I had less than a mile to go. I couldn’t find my way across the lock. There was a sign that told me to walk my bike across the lock, but I could see where. I looked downstream and saw the other lock wall, so I rode down there and it was chained off. I pushed the bike up to the original spot and spied a walkway across the lock that wasn’t visible from the approach. I pushed the bike across, put on a heavier jacket and turned on all my lights. It was now totally dark.
Finally, with much relief, I arrived at my destination. I got a room and went in and turned on the heat. I’m not one for much heat, but in this case it felt fabulous.
After calling Jane to check up on her, I was off to bed. All night long I could hear the wind howling and rain pounding on the roof, I was thrilled to be indoors.
Tony, the hotel receptionist, told me I would be in “C” section. I wondered if that is where they keep all the pregnant guests?
The next morning the rain was still pounding, the wind was still blowing and I decided that it would be best to just hunker down for the day. I slept most of the day. As I write this, it is the second evening and I feel like I caught up on some much-needed rest. I’ve had the sniffles all day, I probably caught something at the wedding. Hopefully, tomorrow my head will clear and the weather will clear. Predictions are for thunderstorms. Hopefully, I can ride between them and take shelter when needed. At least they may change the wind direction. Once, just once, a tailwind would be very welcome. We’ll see.
There are all sorts of fascinating farm machines here. My grandkids would love to play with this.
41.36 Miles for the day. Tonight would be my first night to camp in my tent. I arose early enough, but before I knew it, the morning was wasting away. Such is the pleasure of having an air-conditioned room and relaxing seating and beds. At long last, I dragged myself from the creature comforts of the modern world and went out into the sunlight.
It actually was sunny. Lately, at least most mornings, it has been overcast, dreary and chilly. As usual, with poor Internet service, thanks to T-Mobile, my GPS was hopeless. At some point, as someone suggested in the comments, I need to look at changing that.
After making several wrong turns, I finally was underway. Usually, I avoid a large, “Lumberjack,” breakfast. Three eggs, bacon, ham, home fries, four slices of toast, tea, orange juice, etc. make one too full to actually go out and do work, and riding is work.
Approaching noontime I was getting anxious to find a place to stop for lunch. I was also curious about my surroundings. As I was riding the Harger Line Trail (bike/pedestrian trail), I stopped to chat with a rider going the other way. Gordie was a wealth of information. My first question was about a root plant that I saw them harvesting a few miles back. See photo below:
Sugar beet harvesting.
Next, I asked him why so much corn had not been harvested, the cobs were drying up on the stalks. I love corn, I would never let it get to that state! Gordie told me that the corn was “industrial corn.” I thought about that and concluded that it could be used for ethanol product, or perhaps for clothing fiber. Curious about my travels, he then asked me a few questions about my ride. It was a nice encounter, but I was hungry and wanted to move on. Sorry, Gordie.
I’ve learned that a bowl of raisin bran or Cheerios, some fruit and an orange juice and a cup of tea is plenty. However, this means that by noon, I’m getting hungry. At about 25 miles (42 km) I came into Frankenmuth, Michigan. I had never heard of the place but it is very European themed, especially Germany and Austria. The first establishment I encountered was The Old Christmas Station Restaurant (Currently, as of 2021, The Station 100 Restaurant). The menu was pricey, but I didn’t want to eat too much anyway, so I ordered a house salad and a curry chicken sandwich from the appetizer menu.
The salad was ample and excellent. It had all sorts of vegetables in it and a nice dressing. The sandwich was actually about as long as a sub sandwich, but open-faced and covered in chicken and curry sauce. It too was excellent and a very sufficient lunch, and not too pricey. The place was really ritzy and I thought perhaps they would throw me out on my ear, but they were very gracious and welcoming and I went away a very happy diner.
I learned later that the town was having a special event weekend, starting the next day, and it draws on the order of 80,000 people and has all sorts of parades and celebrations. It would be worth checking on if you’re in the region in early September. I don’t know where they would put all the people, the village isn’t that large.
Satisfied with lunch, I headed east. As the afternoon dragged on I had to decide on where to stay for the evening. The GPS (while I was in the restaurant and had WiFi) showed there was one motel in Vassar, MI. After Vassar, there wasn’t much for at least 30-40 miles. It would be a gamble to try and make it to 70 miles (110 km) for the day and beat sunset, so I opted for Vassar. I found the Vassar Inn Motel, which was about a mile from the bicycle route.
I was tempted to call ahead for a room, but I didn’t have any T-Mobile phone service, so I just had to chance it. When I arrived the woman that manages the place told me they were full. She offered that I could camp behind the motel and I jumped at the offer, there wasn’t much else I could do.
When I rode around back she came out the door with a nice big glass of ice water…I must have looked the part. Sue was a wonderful host and warned me that I couldn’t pay for camping there, it was her gift.
I set up the tent and threw in the sleeping bag and rode off to find something to eat. It was a choice between a Subway shop and a McDonalds. I’m not a big fan of McDonalds, but they have fantastic WiFi and, if it is only once in a while, it won’t kill me. The manager of this McDonalds talked to me after I had my meal and I was complimenting him on having installed electrical outlets at a bunch of the customer seats so one could charge a phone. He proudly said it was his idea and it worked great for me. I do carry backup charging gear, but McDonalds made it so convenient that I was beholding to them. It really did make my life easier. Not only that, I had an excellent connection to call home.
A number of years ago NPR did a series on McDonalds and how they were trying to improve their image with the public in respect to animal care. They hired Temple Grandin, a Ph.D. in animal behavior and worked with her to improve the lot of the animals involved in their products, such as chickens, pigs, and cattle. The series changed my view of McDonalds to where I will stop in once in a while. It had been at least 25 years since I had been in one of their stores. There was a movie about Temple Grandin and it is worth a watch if you haven’t seen it.
My campsite at Vassar, MI. I put a wire into the tree at the far right for my antenna.
I returned to the motel and finished unpacking the bike. I took a short nap and shortly after sunset I threw a wire into a tree and set up my ham radio station on two folding chairs. Just as I was ready to settle down for some radio fun, the skies opened up and it started to pour. The stars were out only a few minutes earlier.
I hurriedly dragged everything into the tent and set everything up again. I managed to operate for a while and then my legs were getting cramps, so I shut down for the night.
It poured all night long, intensely at times. I awoke about 7 am and it was still pouring, so I turned on the radio and, using Morse code, connected with Henry, K1PUG, in Harwinton, Connecticut. He lives near the high school that I graduated from back in 1965, Lewis S. Mills. People are often surprised to hear that I actually talk with Morse code these days. In the world of amateur radio, it is still a very popular way to communicate. It is my favorite, even with all the newer digital modes that have come along over the years. It is always a good skill to have.
Anyway, we’re into the next day here and I’ll close this out for now. The rain has finally stopped and I will be on the road again by 10 am or so.
Today was my first 75 mile (120 km) day. I had hoped to make it to Manitowoc, WI to catch the ferry to Michigan. The SS Badger sailed at 01:30 in the morning, but I was falling short of the miles needed to get there before sunset. By late in the day it was obvious I would have to find a place to stay for the night. I don’t have my powerful riding lights for night riding that I use in Sarasota, FL.
At one point, the roadway was covered with small, dead turtles. They were crossing the road to get to a pond and many did not make it. I spied this one little critter headed to the pond. As turtles are wont to do, I put it on the side of the road it came from, facing the other way, it would immediately turn around and head towards the road and pond. I knew it would. I dismounted, carried it across and headed out. At least one made it.
Along the way I ran into the same fellow that I had met many miles back that had tried to get me sorted out when I was lost near Tilleda. He saved me from a bad decision. I, once again, didn’t have a working GPS (thanks T-Mobile) so I was sitting at an intersection trying to decide what to do. There was a shorter route I could take, but I had no way of knowing how well I could ride it on a bicycle. He informed me that there was major road construction ahead and if I took it, there was an additional ten miles of detour. So much for that pipe dream. Instead, I followed the Adventure Cycle Association map towards Wrightstown. I crossed the bridge for the Fox River and then had to make a decision. The day was getting late. I found I had a GPS connection so I hunted for hotels. It showed I could go back six miles (10 km) or go to one that was 13 miles ahead. It looked like there might be two hours of sunlight left. I called ahead and found that there was a room available, so it was forward motion.
I thought maybe I was riding through a Victoria’s Secret.
The hotel was in Brillian, 13 miles (21 km) southeast of where I was. I went about a mile and was following the GPS on my phone. It was difficult to understand what the GPS was saying, for some reason, it was speaking Spanish. I have no idea why, and I don’t speak Spanish. I stopped in front of a high school and tried fiddling with the settings to find English, but had no success. I gave up, the sun was progressively trying to disappear and I figured I could just watch the map progress. I assumed, correctly, that I would eventually lose the GPS signal, so I tried to memorize as much of the route as I could. I headed south as quickly as possible and sure enough, about two miles down the road, the Spanish voice excitedly tried to tell me something. I figured she was excited about the connection being lost.
At about the half-way point, the GPS came back and the voice calmed down. I notice that the phone’s battery was just about totally discharged. Fortunately, I carry an external battery pack for just such occasions, so I pulled over and plugged it in. The GPS then told me (in Spanish, I’m assuming here!) to get on a rail trail. The trail is the Fox River Trail and even though it is gravel, it is fairly nice to ride on and I was making good time. After six miles (10 km) or so, I came to the Friendship State Trail and only had five more miles to go to the Inn. The sun was getting quite low now and I put on my headlamp. Once again the trail was in fine condition and made really good time. I arrived at the Cobblestone Creek Inn just as it was fully dark. It was a 75 mile day (120 km). For an old guy, I was pretty pleased with myself, especially since the bike is fully loaded.
The apple trees here in Michigan are looking really good
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.
The ride out from Bloomer, WI, started out gloomy and foreboding. There was a bit of sunshine for a bit, but it vanished early on. I kept an eye off to my right, watching the forming clouds.
My intention for the day was to ride to Medford, WI, about 65 miles (105 km) away. Terrain looked promising, no big hills to climb, with one exception. At the top of the hill, there was a route sign that cried out for a sign below it that says, “Top.” Eighties music fans would get it.
As I entered Cornell, WI, I stopped to check the weather. There was an alert on my phone, something about “Quickly finish loading all animals onto the Ark, it is about to get real!” Maybe that wasn’t exactly right, but you get the idea.
Coming into Cornell the first thing one sees is the Stacker. It was used to stack logs for the pulp mills. At 175 feet, (53.3 M) it is an imposing sight. I hangs right over the park tennis courts
I looked around on the Google Map tool and found I had a choice between a state campground 2.5 miles away (4 km), or a motel 4 miles away (7 km). I called ahead and was assured of a room, so I had some lunch and pedaled my wimpy butt to the motel. The forecast was for severe lightning, I’ll take a building over a tent anytime. It turned out to be a wise decision.
A meager 27 miles (43.5 km) for the day. Coward, or wimp?
Just as I rolled the bike into the room, all hell broke loose outside. This was a prime time for a nap, what else was there?
You know you’re in hunting country when the hotel has a sportsman warning sign that says no cleaning of animals will take place in the hotel room. That they had to post a sign tells you something.
After a few hours nap and washing things, it was time for an early evening meal. I rode down the street a few hundred feet and found a nice restaurant.
The staff was friendly and the service, great. I guess it would have to be, I was the only customer there. They had a BBQ Rib special for the evening, all you can eat. I haven’t been eating much meat on this ride so I gave into the temptation and ordered the special for $15.99.
They brought me a nice plate of food, enough so I didn’t even order more. I had a very pleasant chat with the bar keeper and explained what I was doing. A younger member of the waitstaff did most of the serving.
When finished, the “check” was delivered to my table. Why do they call it a “check?” It is a bill. If I took that “check” to the bank, I don’t believe anyone would deposit it. It doesn’t look like a check, it looks like an itemized bill… drink, main dish, taxes and total.
Speaking of the total, the meal, as mentioned earlier, was $15.99 and there was a soft drink, the total should have been around $19.00 (I don’t recall the exact amount). It was a whopping $27.00! The tax was $9.77. I brought the “check” up to the bar to have them look at it. The young person that waited on me explained that the food tax in Wisconsin is 5.5%. Taking the calculator and entering my food costs, the amount was multiplied by 0.55 and ta-dah, the taxes came out to $9.77.
If you’ve been following along on this journey, you’ll recall my tirade about the pennies in Glendive, MT, the incident involving Sister Mary Hang-em-High. It was happening again. At this point, a couple had walked in and sat at the bar–locals. They confirmed the food tax was 5.5% and were astonished that my taxes were so high. It was being calculated at 55% and the person doing the calculating didn’t see the error, even after I pointed it out. “But, but the calculator says…” Is this a result of a failed education system, failed parents, or too many cash registers that total everything up automatically. This restaurant didn’t have the automatic cash registers, they were using a sixties-vintage calculator. Maybe they should consider an abacus. I don’t know the answer, but we’re in trouble.
The weather had cleared for my trip to the restaurant, but predictions were for a very active lightning storm evening. I did go out and set up my ham radio on a swing by the Chippewa River for a while and then it was off to bed.
During the night the river rose another eight inches or so, it certainly has been raining and there is more in store.
Life has a way of getting in the way. Originally, it was my plan to return to the ride later this summer (2017). In the interim, there have been a few life changes that will, once again, postpone things.
Jane and I have decided to sell our home and move to something requiring less maintenance. All this traveling and keeping up a home does not go well together. At our age, the traveling takes precedence over mowing lawns and fixing plumbing.
In addition, we have a rental property that we’re selling, for the same reasons. We’re closing on a home to move into, a manufactured home at a local mobile home park. It needs work, but, once done, we can get on with our lives. Of course, a home of that nature isn’t as solid as what we have now and we could end up like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz in a tornado, or hurricane. It is a chance we’ll have to take.
The closings for the properties we are selling will happen in August and September. That, and moving, precludes any bike adventures for the time being. Currently, I go out for midnight rides and will continue until the weather cools. It is just too hot here in Sarasota in the summer to ride during the day. Additionally, there is absolutely no traffic late at night. With a powerful headlamp, tree frogs singing and no traffic, what’s not to like?
This puts finishing the bicycle ride out to next summer. I’m hoping that July will be the right time. I could go earlier, but May or June can be chilly and rainy up north, so why push it? Any suggestions on places that I should stop and see along the way? The tentative route is flexible:
The ride out from Bloomer, WI, started out gloomy and foreboding. There was a bit of sunshine for a bit, but it vanished early on. I kept an eye off to my right, watching the forming clouds.
Coming into Cornell the first thing one sees is the 
You know you’re in hunting country when the hotel has a sportsman warning sign that says no cleaning of animals will take place in the hotel room. That they had to post a sign tells you something.
