Day 42. Marquette to Newberry, 92 miles

I had a tailwind! A real one, and all day. It was the best, and I made hay with it. It was much cooler than yesterday, but the rain hadn’t yet happened and was clearly going to. I was fortunate to be able to pack up under just an overcast sky, but I prepped for the inevitable, keeping my plastic bag collection handy. My rain jacket lives outside the panniers, always at the ready.

My original plans to hug the coast and go up to Pictured Rocks and Au Sable Dunes were foiled when I discovered during my roadside park breakfast planning session that there was not a single campsite available in any of the three National Park campgrounds. On a Wednesday! It’s been increasingly hard to get campsites over the last few trips; Joyce and I started reserving for weekends in advance a few years back, and on our first post-COVID tour last year that was essential. This year I booked all my weekends for the first month in advance and never leave a weekend unplanned, and that has proven insufficient preparation: several times I’ve had to change plans because it turns out my intended accommodations are full on a weekday.

This one was a big bummer, but así es. I reworked my plan to go 70 miles straight through on 28, but then noticed the campground I was aiming for—which was first-come-first-serve only, no reservations—had no showers. Figuring I’d make sure there was back-up, I called the only motel in town, and it was fully booked. (When I passed it late in the day, the lot was packed with pickup trucks belonging to SeaLampreyControl.org‽ The Google machine tells me that this is an international commission that “coordinates fisheries research, controls the invasive sea lamprey, and facilitates cooperative fishery management among the state, provincial, tribal, and federal agencies.”)

There was a campground 22 miles on that looked good and had plenty of spots, but 90+ miles seemed a little ambitious; I figured I’d ride to Seney—the showerless campground—and see how the showers vs miles debate played out, assuming Seney had sites and I had choices.

So I rode! With a tailwind!

Right as I departed Munising—the coast, sniff sniff, and my last real place for a stretch of miles—it began raining. And it rained. For two hours, through 20 miles of roadwork, it rained steadily, the sky a low, endless, rain-fat grey. I get stretches of brand new asphalt and my own closed lane for a while, and that is real nice. Then we get to the active work. As I’m riding through the one-lane portion on a milled shoulder, a bulldozer driver leans slightly out of the cab so I can hear him as I pass: “You can’t tell me this is fun!” No, sir, I cannot.

Then the roadwork is over! I’ve ridden 25 miles straight through what would have been a break, pausing only for a damp peanut roll, and right as I’m getting kinda salty about how much I’ve praised Michigan’s roadside amenities and how it’s not living up to my hype: a rest area! I pull in just as the rain is ending and recombobulate myself with the hand dryer and a bench.

By this time it’s clear to me I’m riding on to Newberry. I’m only 27 miles out in the mid afternoon, and I’m covered in grit from cars and trucks spraying me with their wake; I had to rinse the sand from my socks in the bathroom sink. And a tailwind! I reserve a site and move on.

I arrive at the Newberry Campground at the surprisingly early hour of 5 (tailwind tailwind tailwind!) and set up quickly, since it looks like rain again. I get the essentials together for dinner prep.

After beans and rice for dinner, I shower and hide out from the skeeters at the campground office, taking care of various business items. Right as I hit my tent, the rain starts, but I am cozy inside and manage to kill all three mosquitoes that got in before snuggling down for the night.