6. Michigan – Page 2 – Ever Eastward

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.

Day 41. Three Lakes to Marquette, 57 miles

What an unexpectedly excellent day of riding! I’d been warned by another cross-country cyclist I’d met in the Settler’s Co-Op in Bruce Crossing the other day that she had intel that getting into Marquette was lousy: bad shoulder, high traffic volume. She was riding with another solo lady she’d met on the road, and they’d decided to drop down to 2 to avoid it. Having done 2 last summer with Joyce and having not loved the experience, I was willing to take my chances on M-28. I started the day about 45 miles out of Marquette—I was riding a bit past it to a campground on its outskirts—so I was keen to know when it would get rough. The longer it took the better, of course, and I had my eye on some trail action that I hoped might mitigate it.

The morning started cool and humid, though the cashier at the Michigamme Market announced as she was ringing me up that it would be “hot and rainy.” Whee! It was overcast, which I appreciated, and the shoulder was wide and clean.

Again with the abundant roadside parks! Every little lake had one, and it made my heart sing.

The shoulder continued to be totally reasonable through the town of Champion, with its extremely cute post office.

And then I was on trail! I’d seen that the Iron Ore Trail, which had been unpaved for many miles previous, was paved for a large section through Ishpeming and Negaunee, leading into Marquette and then through and out of it, so I made my way to it and could not have been more pleased. Other than one unpaved section where I jumped onto a county road for a few miles, it was smooth riding.

At a trailside memorial to nine (or 10? not clear from the narratives) miners who died in a cave-in, I find many of my favorite midwestern ditch weeds: narrow-leafed everlasting sweet pea, purple crown vetch, white sweetclover, and of course Queen Anne’s lace/wild carrot.

I eat some Michigan cherries I bought at a roadside farm stand (!!!). (The peach I got was so perfect I ate it standing over my bike before leaving the place.) Then I keep riding and it’s lovely and perfect.

There is also the joy of coming back to Lake Superior after having gotten away from the coast east of Ashland. That joy looks something like this.

the only thing better than riding next to big water is approaching it

I stop at a Subway where the trail crosses the strip mall misery of Marquette, then jump back on the trail for several more lovely miles. Next to Lake Superior! 💙

I arrive at my slightly wonky and expensive campground (across the road from a roadside park overlooking the lake at which I will certainly eat breakfast) in sweltering heat. It has not yet rained, though I’d maybe like it to just to wring some of the hot water out of the air. A shower and a local beer at the lodge later, I am human again and head off to sleep hoping I can pack up before the rain promised in the morning gets started.

Day 40. Bergland to Three Lakes, 73 miles

I set off this morning with more wistful backward glances than usual, after a walk to the gas station for coffee we drink by the lake. I headed out around 9; it’s a longish day, but I’ve been promised a tailwind, and I’m headed to a motel, so later arrival is fine.

The shoulder is variable, and there’s occasional roadwork, but overall the riding is good. It’s the familiar, standard-issue, Michigan riding I love: tree-lined, rolling along mostly undramatically (though I end the day having gained 400 feet), punctuated by sweet roadside parks with vault toilets and water and picnic tables.

This warms my heart (and breaks it a little more).

It’s hot as heck, hot like it hasn’t been since North Dakota, and I spend most of my breaks panting and hydrating in the shade. I do have the promised tailwind in the morning, but it turns to a cross and maybe a bit of a head in the late afternoon. I’m surprisingly unfazed, my mood sailing on its own tailwind from seeing Andrew.

That lasts through the bar & grill next door to the motel—the only dinner option—being closed and the motel having only a (very powerful) fan. A shower and a left-behind cold beer gifted by the owners (who also offer to run me to the market five miles down the road for dinner items ❤️) cure the little that ails me, and I get in a call with mom before bed. A good day.

Day 39. Bergland, rest day

What a perfect rest day. After a dinner at Antonio’s, one of Bergland’s three dining establishments, all in walking distance, we have rum cocktails Andrew brought along while watching the night come on. In the morning we sleep in and then get breakfast at our new favorite spot, Antonio’s, beating the church crowd by just a bit so we even get the same booth as last night.

After breakfast we take a walk down to Lake Gogobic and then spend a relaxing afternoon hanging around, until an indulgent dinner at Trailside BBQ, followed by ice cream at, wait for it, Antonio’s. The walk to dinner has revealed that my shoulder will improve, at least temporarily, on the far side of Bergland; it’s been pretty lousy—narrow, patched, gravel-strewn—and I’m looking forward to the quality of life improvement. Fortunately, traffic has been light enough to make this less painful for everyone than it might be.

A quick stop at the gas station for snacks (a rare find: chocolate chip cookie dough bars!), and we’ve done the town. The day is over too quickly, but it was absolutely wonderful. So wonderful that we neglected to get any photos at all (SORRY!), except this video of Andrew gamely taste testing the salted peanut roll at my request.

Speaking of wonderful, I wanted to to take some space to thank all of you who’ve been cheerleading me along from the comments, in texts and emails and messages, and in all kinds of ways. Tas, Linda, Alison, Joyce, and Jajah, you have been my steadfast comment support squad, and I appreciate you so much: I look forward to posting primarily because I get to hear from y’all ❤️. You too, Delia, Steve, and Carrie! Em and Wendy, our running thread keeps me grounded and sane (like always), from pictures of the boys to home improvement projects to words of encouragement. Joyce, thanks for reliving our previous tours with me by text and sending me love and tailwinds. Aimée and Yael and Josh and mom, you’ve each supported me in your own way, and I appreciate ‘em all so much. Germaine, your bisous and bon courage when I needed them warmed my heart. Same, Sarah, Jennifer, Maria, Jajah. Tom, your post on Facebook made me feel like a gosh darn 40-something super hero.

Those who are trying to meet up with me in the Midwest, I can’t wait to see you, and I hope we can make it happen.

Day 38. Ironwood to Bergland, 34 miles

What a great day. Being pretty excited to see Andrew, I had to force myself to slow down the morning routine so I didn’t arrive in Bergland so much earlier than he did that the place wouldn’t let me check in. I was, for the first time on the trip, sort of badly in need of laundry, and it turned out there’s a laundromat in Ironwood, so I made my way there around 7:15, got a load in, and used some of the $10 in quarters I had to purchase for a breakfast of weak coffee and pop tarts.

waiting to get to see Andrew both feels and is exactly like this

Laundry accomplished, I gather snacks and drinks for what’s turning into a very hot day and head out toward Bergland on a lovely Rail-to-Trail trail called the Iron Belle; I get 7-8 miles with her before I’m back on my old buddy 2, with which I will finally part ways today so I can take the (hopefully quieter) M-28 as my main road through the U.P.

Oh! And I entered my last time zone of the trip! ET from here on out.

I get on 28, and it is indeed quieter, though this is compensated for by the disappearance/disintegration of my paved shoulder for a stretch. I do not despair, because I have learned how such roads work, and the next town or county may take its road maintenance more seriously. The ATVs that appear and then roar and bounce past in a cloud of road dust on the larger, gravel part of the shoulder may be a clue as to the jagged and broken edges of the asphalt shoulder and the gravel strewn across it. I have to remind myself that I am the interloper here: that wide gravel shoulder is almost certainly for them, much like the trail Googlemaps keeps trying to put me on (Snowmobile Trail 8 on maps, it helpfully adds).

And then who cares because I am here at our home for the next day or so!

The owner left the AC on in our (adorable and spacious) cabin because Andrew told her I’d be arriving by bike, and she lets me check in an hour early. I explore the place, get changed, and park myself on the bench to await Andrew’s arrival. He arrives, rolling up on his motorcycle with his much cooler safety gear, and here our story pauses for the moment while I enjoy some time with my guy whom I haven’t seen for six weeks (!!).

Day 37. Iron River, WI to Ironwood, MI, 65 miles

The predicted rain doesn’t arrive until 4:30/5 and is over by 6/6:30, a real boon, since it means I can get up and go about my morning business not being rained on. I move all my stuff to the pavilion (bike tour activities are not always the most efficient) and set the tent to drying. Last night the campground owners had offered to drive me back up to the main road, US 2, in the morning, since the gravel road in was “a lot,” in the wife’s words. I had already indicated plans to accept, and that was my intention this morning, especially now that it would be muddy. The husband wasn’t leaving until 8:45 or so, so I took my time and entertained myself watching a family of ducks that live in the pond/lakelet.

Karl does indeed give me a ride, and as we make the drive I’m so grateful: the road is a mess of puddles and wet sandy gravel. He tells me it’s particularly bad because it was just graded two days ago, but that they regularly have to help out motorcyclists and folks towing smaller trailers. He drops me at the turnoff, a wayside park called Wayside Park, after I decline his kind offer of a ride 30 miles further to Ashland.

And I ride! Wisconsin is sunny and green and blue-skied, and the hills—sometimes quite steep—continue. I’ll end the day with 1900+ feet of climbing, the highest daily total since the day I left Bismarck. Wisconsin’s shoulders on 2 are variable and not as good as Minnesota’s. That may be my overall feeling about Wisconsin. I’m excited about Michigan, which is excellent since I will spend two weeks in it, even more time than I spent in Montana. This is due in large part, Andrew points out, to Michigan’s Chile-like coastal grab. They have a LOT of Great Lakes coastline.

But in the meantime, I am doing my first Great Lakes riding of the trip, which is 💯. I love catching glimpses of Superior through the trees, and I drink it up, since a lot of the road I’ll take through the U.P. is actually not directly on the lake. Dirty secret: Superior Circle tour is kind of far from the lake most of the time on the U.S side.

As I get to Ashland the road gets even more unpleasant, and when I see a trail across the way along the lake I jump on it. I pull over to a vault toilet only to discover it’s actually this!

I’m pretty sure Joyce and I encountered this previously, but I’m just as thrilled as if it were the first time. As I tell Aimée during a cemetery rest stop text chat, Adir would be amazed how much actual water I’m drinking. I fill up and move along on Ashland’s alleged waterfront trail, which doesn’t exist on my device or Googlemaps and does in fact disappear from time to time, throwing me back on 2. It’s lovely for a mile, then lousy, then pretty nice again, and then it spits me back onto 2 at the Walmart on the outskirts of Ashland.

this is consistent with the maintenance and signage

Ashland does, however, net me a prime snack prize: sugar snap peas! I eat them outside the gas station in an ecstasy of sweet, green crunchiness and text mom about it.

And then I’m in Michigan!

Curry Park, where I’m spending the night, is much cuter than Saginaw, with a retro feel and decently shaded spots. Its showers are pretty good; the vibe is low-key, even on a Friday night; and there are enough empty spots that it doesn’t feel crowded. I’m at the far edge of the park, and my view is down a hill around the corner from the main road to a few houses facing the park, where a couple comes out to sit at twilight and later a guy strums his guitar and sings a bit while enjoying the evening. A real pleasant scene, all in all, which is weird because on the highway itself, which the park fronts on as I walk to the bathroom, is a strip mall whose anchor client SNAP FITNESS has a red lightbox sign. Dueling realities.

I’ve got a short day tomorrow, 30+ miles; I’m planning to do laundry in Ironwood in the morning and then head to Bergland, where Andrew has reserved us a cabin at a roadside, lake-accessing resort. (In the U.P. this, along with lodge, generally indicates a fishing-oriented establishment; Yoopers, please correct me if that’s inaccurate.) It is on route and just a mile from town and eating places, and I am pleased as punch. I’m gonna have clean clothes and a shorter day, stay in a cabin, take a rest day on a lake, and see my favorite guy, in pretty much reverse order of priority.