Perhaps because I expected an easy three-day cruise from Ypsilanti to Dad and Denise's house in Manton, MI, the actual four day challenge (with one day remaining) was rather surprising. This time the difficulties were not so much physical as they were mental.
In the past, to avoid monotonous freeway traffic, I traveled many rural roads across mid-Michigan and I always enjoyed driving through those farmlands with the windows down on warm, sunny days. The sense of comfort one can get from watching the landscape slide by hypnotically under a blue sky is one I've always treasured. When envisioning this trip I was excited to revisit those feelings while bicycling down my old car routes.
In fact, leaving Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor on the first day was nearly perfect with big fluffy clouds strewn across the sky and the sun poking through to dry up the rain puddles from the previous night. The rains had produced a new crop of wild mushrooms to color the ground.
I began riding along a nice stretch of the Huron River before turning north to the Lakelands Trail running east to west. The first five miles were paved and densely populated with cyclists, runners and stroller-pushing mothers. The next fifteen miles I can only describe as an endless rumble strip littered with bowling-ball-sized road apples. Equestrian use has made the gravel trail unusable by anyone on wheels. I fled to a parallel road and continued happily toward the Wheel Inn Campground, featuring an enormous tenting area which I had all to myself.
It was at 6:15 the next morning that I was awakened by a grumble of thunder and the pit-er-pat of raindrops hitting my tent roof. For the next two days I saw nothing but a gray road running into a gray sky, and pond sized puddles in every crop field, growing by the hour. I sheltered at gas stations during the heavy downpours, but still got soaked by the cold, persistent drizzle in between. Even covering a mere thirty-five miles each day, my memories of a warm hypnotic landscape were fading away.
Although the storms only lasted two days, I felt as if I were holed up in local motel rooms for a week. It was during this time that I formulated the equation that riding 35 miles on a cold, wet and windy day is exhaustingly equivalent to 70+ miles on a nice day. However, mathematics aside, I believe it was the lack of fulfillment of my expectations that put me in the somber mood which I found so mentally challenging.
Nevertheless, on the fourth day my spirits were instantly lifted as I woke to sunshine parting the curtains. After a quick continental breakfast I hit the pavement with intentions of covering the remaining 145 miles to Manton, over 50 miles longer than I had ever ridden. A few short miles from the motel, the flat cornfields changed to hilly forests and the rural paved roads became a smooth hard dirt (almost easier to ride than asphalt); this was the land where I grew up. Sunny day memories flooded back to me through the canopy of green which covered my path. Scents of lilacs and honeysuckles drifted in the breeze. I met the White Pine Trail forty-five miles later and headed due north, sheltered from the busy highways. A long section of pavement eventually gave way to a path of dirt and gravel.
As I was silently cursing the bumpy tracks from horse riders that had ignored the signs reading "No Equestrian Use," I heard a sound behind me and caught a glimpse of something large in my mirror. I turned my head to find an Amish horse and buggy breathing down my rear tire. I pulled aside to let the bearded driver pass. Seconds later another cart rolled by going the opposite direction. Obviously outnumbered, I pedaled on.
Despite reaching pavement again at the 85-mile mark, I realized I didn't have enough in the tank to make my 140-mile goal. It seemed silly to make camp so close to Manton, so I called my dad and had him pick me up at the end of my first century (bicycle lingo for a 100-mile ride).
After enjoying the holiday weekend with the old dog Maggie, we will travel back to New Haven to pick up my belongings, so I can store them temporarily in Dad and Denise's basement. Upon our return I will spend a little while longer visiting with family and watching the birds at the feeder. Then it will be time to continue my trip from the exact spot on the trail where I stopped.
Reflecting on the recent week and the trip in whole, I know I have learned some lessons for the road ahead. With a little less than 3/4 of the way still to go, I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to apply them and plenty more lessons to learn. Bridges to cross when I come to them.
Random stats:
- Total days of riding: 20
- Rainy days of riding: 8
- Bags of trail mix eaten: 11
- Whole pizzas eaten in one meal: 4
- Foxes seen: 2
- Fastest speed down a hill: 36 mph
- Slowest speed up a hill: 3.5 mph
- Books completed: 1
The "right" way was worn so deeply in the earth as to be unmistakable. But without the errors, wrong turns, and blind alleys, without the doubling back and misdirection and fumbling and chance discoveries, there was not one bit of joy in walking the labyrinth. And worse: knowing the way made traveling it perfectly meaningless. -- William Least Heat Moon
-Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:E 20 Rd,Manton,United States
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