Days 53 and 54 Bethel to Lewiston to Rockport

53 (25 Sep 09) Bethel to Lewiston 50 miles

We slept in - at least for us. Jackie was up early preparing a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. I (Jim) awoke to the smell of cooking bacon - what a change from the last 50 days! We ate a relaxed breakfast and Gerry showed us his progress on his “man cave” in the basement - wonder why it’s down there? We said our goodbyes and thanked the Bells for their great hospitality.

We were off, this time down Paradise Drive, but into the wind again. Much to our surprise, as we turned on to Route 26 to head toward Lewiston, it became a tail wind and we nearly flew south. Despite a late start, we reached South Paris around 12:30 and decided to stop for lunch at a restaurant rather than doing our usual forage at a gas station convenience store. Jim spied Shaner’s Family Restaurant. The parking lot was full, always a good sign, so we stopped there. Lunch was unexpectedly good (guess the parking lot sign worked). The restaurant was full of senior citizens and we chatted with a few of the other patrons during lunch.

With a persistent tail wind we breezed into Lewiston for a stay at the only truly bedraggled Super 8 motel we encountered on the trip. We took a long walk to a not so good Thai restaurant (Toby’s iPhone told us 7 of 8 people who ate there and wrote a review thought it was good - so much for that source of information). Toby and I slept through a fight in the Super 8 hall between a 75 year old man and a 25 year old woman (age estimates provided by the night clerk at breakfast). Len said there were flying shoes and lots of execrable language. I was wearing my earplugs, a defensive maneuver when rooming with Toby, so never heard anything.

Anticipating a hilly ride, we started riding close to 7 AM.

Day 54 (26 Sep 09) Lewiston to Rockport 73 miles

It was brisk when we started out of Lewiston - record low of 30 degrees for September 26. After being passed by a parade of pickup trucks (at least 8 of them) towing variations on the ATV, we encountered little traffic leaving Lewiston. After crossing interstates 95 and 295, we reached Dresden Mills at mid-morning. Making our usual stop at a gas station convenience store, we encountered an unusual culinary fare: freshly homemade sandwiches and egg rolls provided by the Asian proprietress. It was on this particular morning that Toby discovered Len’s stealthy eating habits: before we were back on our bikes, Len had consumed his ostensible lunch - a problem to be solved later.

A bit of riding adventure was provided by a short cut down the Bog Road (unpaved) and across Rabbit Run Path - almost worse than the unpaved Bog Road by virtue of huge frost heaves and an “alligatored” surface. Toby breezed over the rough road on his Surly Long Haul Trucker (that really is what his bike is called) and Jim took it gingerly, afraid of breaking another spoke. Len suffered on his modified regular road bike with narrow, highly inflated tires.

We stopped for lunch by a small pond in the sun and out of the wind (it was still cold) on Route 1 after climbing a viciously steep hill in historic Waldoboro. Len solved his lack of lunch problem by visiting the restaurant next to the pond, returning with a bowl of hot clam chowder and a biscuit. He suffered jealous looks and comments from Jim and Toby.

With the exception of a lot more hills, the remainder of the ride into Rockport was relatively uneventful. We were joined by Jim’s wife Bev who drove over from her cabin on a small lake in New Hampshire near the Maine border. Following a glorious reunion, Toby and Bev drove to a nearby wine shop (more on that from Toby in the last day’s entry) where celebratory libations were purchased from a most entertaining shop owner. Finding that it would not be possible to eat out at a reasonable hour, we proceeded to a nearby Shaws for rotisserie chicken and cooked to order lobster among other things - stuff to go with the great wine selected by Toby. It was an early night in anticipation of what we thought was going to be a 90 plus mile ride into Bar Harbor, possibly with a lot of rain.

Days 48 to 52 Pulaski, NY to Bethel, ME and points between

Photo album will be updated tomorrow.

Day 48 (20 Sep 09) Pulaski to Inlet 88 miles

First frost this morning. Us on our bikes and the Amish going to church in a horse-drawn buggy are the only people on the road this early. Jim and I wave to the buggy and to our surprise we see two small hands with straw hats wave from the back of the buggy. Are these kids curious about these bike riders? Are they curious about the outside world? No doubt; they’re children.

We roll down and pedal up sharp hills in the Adirondacks. It’s still cold at 10:00 AM. There’s a snap to the air that we did not feel at back in August on the West Coast.

It’s another long day on the bike. We stopped in Old Forge for a rest and snack at a convenience store. Len found an Adirondack chair and collapsed there for awhile and Toby engaged a couple of taciturn local guys in conversation - mostly Toby talking.

There wasn’t much to Inlet, but the folks at the Inlet Marina Motel were really nice and Jamie, one of the owners, drove us a couple of miles down the road for one of the best dinners we had on the trip. Guess there’s lots of old money in the area, so a high end restaurant can make a go.

Day 49 (21 Sep 09) Inlet to Ticonderoga 97 miles

We leave in a cold fog. Lots of layers of clothing and thankful for the hill out of town to warm us up. Len’s nose drips like an old leaky faucet (he wrote this, not me). The Inlet Marina Motel is run by a young couple. She is a Jersey Girl who goes back to Jersey to have her babies. (Len, a Jersey boy hears the Jersey accent in a second.) Henry is a stone mason trying to build a business because the stone work is breaking his body. Jamie drives a huge yellow Ford 250 with “MomsRig” on the license plate. Nice place to stay. He is restoring 7 fire places in local “camp” owned by the heiress to the Chase Manhattan Bank founder.

Fall colors are just starting to appear in the hills. We climb most of the day and then there’s a fast decent to Ticonderoga, NY and Lake Champlain. On the way we met a couple from Modesto, CA who are touring on a tandem. They are taking 5 months to cross the US. They have stoppped and stayed at National Parks and visited relatives in Ohio. We all agree that the toughest part were the headwinds in North Dakota.

The day is warm, but you can feel the edge of cold coming out of the forest on the side of us. Winter is around the corner.

Day 50 (22 Sep 09) Ticonderoga to White River Junction, VT

The $2 ferry across Lake Champlain arrives just as we reach the dock. Addie B’s captain flies the Jamaican flag. The owner of the ferry hires Jamaican’s to pick apples. “They can pick 5 bushels a day,” according to the Capitan. He shaves his upper lip, but nothing else. He left his teeth at home.

It sprinkles of rain off an on (never enough to put on rain gear) most of the day and is very humid.

Once again we go up and down all morning on our way to Middlebury, VT. Len is seeking a replacement tire and we figure a college town will have a good bike shop. The bike shop was ok, but no luck with the tire. The owner advises us to take a different route than the one we planned because the road is better. It turns out to be about 14 miles longer, but takes us by Lake Dunsmore where Jim’s son James went to music camp for two summers. Despite the overcast skies, it’s a beautiful ride. Getting over the Green Mountains turns out to be a real killer, Brandon Gap with a 12%-18% grade. We cross VT in one day and end in White River Junction.

Road signs in VT give distances in 10ths of miles, unlike Minnesota. In Minnesota, if there were a sign for a town, there was no mileage. Most of the road signs were for the next Lutheran Church. Information certainly useful to Lutherans

Day 51 (23 Sep09) White River Junction to Moultonborough, NH 79 miles

We start with a short tour of Dartmouth College. Jim shows us the beautiful campus; it is the sort of place that us public school guys dream of when we trip over cracked sidewalks at our poorly funded schools.

Jim gets a flat just outside Plymouth, NH literally across the street from the Rhino Bike Shop. These guys know what they are doing and replace 6 spokes on Jim’s rear wheel (two were broken when the repair began and the other four broke as the wheel was trued). They tell us that the Baby Jesus must have been with us for the trip because the wheel was not intended for touring. Thank goodness we did not have a such a breakdown in North Dakota where there was no food, no place to stay and no bike shops for 100’s of miles.

Our advice: if you plan to do touring find a bike shop that sells you the right equipment.

We are about 100 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, but we will turn north to take the diagonal route to the Ocean at Bar Harbor, ME.

Day 52 (24 Sep 09) Moultonborough, NH to Bethel, ME 74 miles

Last night the lighting knocked out the power in Moultonborough, NH. The owner of Berry Pond Motel offered flashlights, but we all just decided to sleep. He was kind and drove us to the North End Restaurant for a great meal and entertainment provided by our waiter Charlie. I doubt that half of what Charlie told us was true, but he was a great story teller.

It is unusually warm for NH and ME we head into the wind for most of the day. Jim finds two more broken spokes as we leave the motel. We stop for a great breakfast at Rosie’s on route 16 near West Ossipe. We cross the Maine border near Freyburg and ask directions in the local bank. We are told by the bank teller that we can take the “wicked hard” route or the regular route. We opt to avoid wicked hard. Besides, the regular route takes us by the sign with directions to everywhere - photos are in the album.

What a gorgeous day as the weather front moves in lowering the humidity and the temperature. The trees are coloring the skyline with oranges, gold and reds.

At the end of the day, we opt for the “wicked hard” short route rather than the much easier long route to Gerry and Jackie Bell’s house in Bethel, ME. That last climb included bare ground at at 12% grade. That end of Paradise Drive is hardly paradise for a road bike rider loaded with 40 to 50 pounds of stuff. The view at the top is worth the pain of the climb. After a short, gentle downhill we encounter Gerry walking is dog, Dakota, along the road.

Gerry is a classmate of Jim’s who, many months before, graciously agreed to put us up for a night. Jackie prepared a fantastic dinner. It was a welcome respite from the endless nights of motels.

Days 46 and 47 Brockport to Fair Haven to Pulaski

Day 46 (18 Sep 09) Brockport to Fair Haven 99 miles

We continue on the plains of the Great Lakes and have the advantage of the canal trail for the first part of the ride. We know that we have a long day, and need an early start. However, despite Jim’s magic with the Internet it is difficult to find a place to stay. (Later we learn that it could be fall colors, tourists and a salmon run on the Salmon River that has places booked.)

The circular winds from Lake Ontario are blowing up to 20 mph sometimes in our faces, sometimes a quartering wind, but it seems never a good tail wind. The towns along the canal have downtowns influenced by the canal trade. As we approach Rochester we have to be careful to follow the correct canal trail because there is a confluence of the canal and the Genesse River. We pass along industrial areas of chemical plants, railroad yards and manufacturing plants.

As we follow the canal trail signs we end up on the campus of Nazarene College, where Jim comments that the tail signs, “just petered out.” We go in a circle and end up in Pittsford. Pittsford has incorporated the canal into its character by having barge trips and restaurants along the canal. With the wind at our back we end up in Palmyra quickly. Turning north we push against that 20 mph head wind.

A ride along Lake Ontario and we end up in Fair Haven just as darkness is settling in. Town and food is a mile away up a hill. Fortunately, Dan from Fair Haven Inn gives us a ride to town. Dan runs the hotel, has a Christmas tree farm, and moves to Lake Placid for the winter to coach bob sledding. Yes, he did coach the Jamaican bob sled team. The Jamaican bob sled team never made it to the bottom of the hill without crashing, but they had fast starts.

Day 47 (19 Sep 09) Fair Haven to Pulaski 52 miles

Only 50 miles we have time for a sit down breakfast. Maybe we will even have time to talk about our feelings.

At breakfast we meet a former Kodak engineer who worked on carbon fiber bikes for Lance Armstrong. He was consulted on the stresses on the headsets for carbon fiber bikes. He rode across the country several times on his motorcycle.

The chef pre-sold the oatmeal. He tells us he just had some. His wife is the waitress tells us that he samples the oatmeal too much. They live there all year round and the winters last one month too long.

The smell of apples accompanies us and we see the Hispanic pickers being shuttled to the orchards. We pedal through Mexico, NY turn on Route 3 to head to Port Ontario on the lake (Jim wanted to skip going to Texas (Texas, NY of course), having lived there for three years and not wanting to go back). Then to the Salmon River and the Pulaski Salmon Festival. Leonard is thinking about the salmon we will eat at the downtown festival when we arrive. Alas, its ½ chicken, salt potatoes and macaroni salad for $7 from the Lions Club and an elk burger for Jim. Later it is a rotisserie chicken in the Super 8 where we continue to talk about our feelings over dinner. We discovered we didn’t have any - well no more than one for each of the attorneys and maybe two for the pathologist doctor.

Days 44 and 45 Port Dover to Fort Erie to Brockport NY

Day 44 (16 Sep 09) Port Dover to Fort Erie 87 miles

On the road at dawn and we start by missing a turn. No problem. We stop to review the map on the last street that connects to the street we want - our luck is confirmed by a local passerby. And we’re off into the wind - later to find out that wind speeds were a sustained 15 mph with gusts to 23. Long day on the bikes.

On arrival in Fort Erie, we visited a nearby large supermarket to purchase a rotisserie chicken and sundries for dinner. A stop at the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario - netting over a $ billion last year according to the clerk) netted a bottle of fine (well fairly expensive anyway) French wine. Typical of government run liquor stores, the selection was meager. We returned to the Comfort Inn to eat. When we asked for three paper plates, we were greeted with a complaint from the desk clerk that he would do it this time, but that if he did it for us, everyone would be asking for the same thing - there was no one else around. Three miserable paper plates! You’d have thought we asked for the keys to the city.

Day 45 (17 Sep 09) Fort Erie to Brockport 100 miles

Things were looking good until I (Jim) noticed that the zipper on one of my back panniers was partially open. While straddling my bike in the parking lot of the motel and trying to close the zipper, the handle bars turned and the front gear ring put a big divot in the lower part of my right leg. Off to the ER at the nearest hospital about a mile away. The Canadian health system in this case was far more efficient than any such encounter in the US would have been. I arrive a few minutes before 8 AM and was out by 9:30 AM having been sewn up. A quick trip to the local pharmacy for antibiotics and we were ready to go on a 100 mile bike ride including a crossing of the US Canadian border and a visit to the Canadian and Niagara Falls.

“After they put the 2 wires in my head and I dropped the blood clot I no longer had grand mal epilepsy,” said the white haired woman on the bike in front of the pharmacy. Jim was packing his ointment and antibiotics. She perfected the life story treatment in 5 minutes or less. Husband lost his 4 fingers in the laundry machine; she married him anyway and had 9 children. She pedals off. We know we are facing and epic ride by leaving late.

A fast push of 28 miles to Niagara Falls, Ontario; a quick view and lots of photos of Horseshoe Falls and Niagara Falls and we are pedaling to find the Lewiston Bridge to find our port of entry to the US. After a bit of wandering around and an extra six miles we figure out that the way across is through Canadian Customs. The US Customs Officers see out passports, ask questions about our bike ride and we are waived through.

We are running late, but stop at “Smokin Joe’s” smoke shop on the Tuscarora Indian Reservation doing a brisk business in smokes including to a woman who drives up, unhooks her oxygen tank, buys 2 cartons, re-hooks to oxygen and drives off.

We find the Erie Canal Bike Trail in Lockport and have a flat, dusty ride 40 miles to Brockport. The light is getting low and glows on the water. We will be arriving at the hotel at dusk. These towns along the Erie Canal have character influenced by the trading history of the canal now open to biking and boating. We can recommend that you take a look at riding/boating the canal with 500 miles of boating and 300 miles of biking.

Days42 and 43 St. Clair to Port Stanley to Port Dover

We have lots of new pictures in the web album and blog updates for the past 3 days.

Day 42 (14 Sep 09) St. Clair to Port Stanley Ontario 104 miles

We started the day with breakfast in the room and then headed south to catch the Blue Water Ferry in Marine City. When we arrived at the ferry dock, no one was around except the customs agents of which there were three sitting around in the office. We went inside to find how to pay for the ferry whereupon we were told by the female agent to use the sidewalk when we went out and that we pay on the ferry (bear in mind there was no one else around; Leonard wondered silently …). Eventually, one car showed up a few minutes before the ferry arrived from Canada. It turned out that the driver had worked for Ford for 27 years and had been laid off. He was now working for GM in Canada shutting down a Chevrolet plant. Now he’s laying people off.

A sign next to the cafe in McGee’s Corners declares that the chef loves to shake his pepper. A sign in New Glasgow directs you to Joe’s Bush whatever that is.

We ate lunch at a gas station in Morpeth. A Hindi guy running the place was watching a C movie and grilling burgers. The gas station had no gas.

We arrived at our destination, Port Stanley to find that we had reserved rooms at a fantastic inn, Inn on the Harbor, run by a very nice woman who among other things made our reservation for the following night in Port Dover. Based on a recommendation of a resident of the town we ate dinner at the Kettle Creek Inn and had one of the best, if not the best dinner of the trip. The woman who owns the Kettle Creek Inn is also a cyclist and when she found out what we were doing, despite not having any available tables, had one set for us so she could talk to us about our trip. Last year she did a bike trip from Uzbekistan to Beijing - makes our trip look rather mundane. It would have been great to have enough time to spend two days instead of only one.

Day 42 (15 Sep 09) Port Stanley to Port Dover 68 miles

Breakfast at the Inn on the Harbor was at 9 AM and we decided to stay - a wise decision. As a result, we were off to a much later than usual start and even though it was a relative short day for riding we did not arrive in Port Dover until after 4 PM.

This was a day of ups and downs. Each little village is on creek that flows into Lake Erie and the main coastal road is on a plateau above the lake. The result is that every time you enter a village you have a 100 foot drop followed by a very steep climb out of the village - and we thought it was going to be an easy day.

The highlight of the day was a huge wind farm (the Erie Shores Wind Farm) that stretched for 25 kilometers along the lake shore. As the day worn on, the wind speed picked up and more and more of the wind generators were spinning at top speed. There are 66 1500 kilowatt generators for a maximum capacity of 99 megawatts. The generators are located on farm land. Too bad we couldn’t have captured some of that energy to help us along - we had head and cross winds as usual. Where oh where are the “prevailing” westerly winds?

We stayed at a very old motel in Port Dover, widely known for its perch dinner which we sampled. The food was good, but not up to the standard of the night before.

　

　

Day 41 Caro to St. Clair

Day 41 (13 Sep 09) Caro to St.Clair 96 miles

Caro was a bad food town. When we arrived we got to go to WalMart to buy food for breakfast and for the road the next day. Yes, WalMart for that great pasta salad. We recall seeing the Brickhouse restaurant just down the street. It was a 1.5 mile walk for bland, bland, salt bland food.

Breakfast offering was donuts with mystery brown sauce, Fruit Loops (Jim said he saw Raisin Bran.) Leonard had a pint of cottage cheese with mandarin oranges in light syrup and a banana.

We leave the room with the red heart shaped tub and head 5 miles down the road to cross the Cass River. Foggy and a bit cold, but that great breakfast fortifies us. Then we see the road closed signs, but that does not stop us. Maybe, we can get across the construction catwalk. Len walks across and says we can make it by carrying our bags across and down the ladder on the other side. Jim wisely says no we will take M24 which parallels this road.

Back track to town, this will make the day close to a 100 miles. On 24 we are treated to the rudeness of Michigan drivers. This is a generalization, but Michigan has been the worse for rude, dangerous driving. Maybe it is the “car culture,” maybe it’s the unemployment, but blowing horns, close calls, and impatience are the norm for the riding.

St. Clair is a surprise. As we arrive in St. Clair we see the river that runs south from Lake Huron to Lake Erie. It is a wide, swift, blue river that (we are told) becomes brown by the time you reach Detroit. We get a dinner tip in the laundromat to eat next door at the pasta/pizza place. The food redeemed the bad Caro day.

On to Marine City in the morning to catch the ferry across the St. Clair River to Ontario.

Day 40 Midland to Caro

Day 40 (12 Sep 09) Midland to Caro 67 miles

Toby joined for his first day of riding, a mostly flat ride with variable headwinds and a few miles of early morning ground fog. The route directions and map are nearly useless for getting us through Bay City and even though Jim spent a lot of time with the mapping program on the computer the night before, we still managed to get lost. The first person we encountered on the serendipitously discovered bike trail gave us incorrect information. After following his directions for awhile it was obvious we weren’t going to get to where we wanted to be so after inquiring of a more knowledgeable person we crossed the Saginaw River, only to become lost again. This time as we were reviewing the map, a very nice 77 year old Hispanic man came out of his house and told us to go to the 7-11 up the street where we were sure to get good instructions. He was right.

Even though he could not tell us the directions he had time to tell us about his 20 brothers and sisters. Leonard asked him if he was a local and he thought Leonard was saying “loco.”

Even better, we encountered Truman Johnson, a 61 year old retired auto worker whose sister “Neophus” wrote two of Little Richard’s most famous songs, “Long Tall Sally” and “Good Golly Miss Molly.” Truman had on 2 tone shoes, tan pants, gold teeth, gray beard. His belt was on the tightest notch, but it still hung down 3 inches. He told us he worked out and liked to swim.

Truman was a no nonsense kind of guy, just like the president for whom he was named, so his story was entirely believable. During the course of our conversation with him he mentioned how the UAW had messed up a really good thing by making it too easy for auto workers to get paid a lot of money for doing very little. He also made a joke about throwing an occasional new carburetor over the fence for a friend.

Truman put on his baritone voice and started to sing. “I am going up yonder.” We asked whether he was going to heaven. He said yes and showed us his cross. His father was a preacher, healer and prophet and Truman said he had some of the preaching DNA. He met Little Richard who gave him some pomade to process his hair just like Little Richard. Truman’s father was not pleased about his son and processed hair. He told us Little Richard’s name is Pitman and that he was just crazy as can be. All this happened in Louisiana. Truman warned us it is the end times. We asked him to sing, “Long Tall Sally” as we rode away. He did. If he had a bike we think that he would have come with us. He just did not want to let us go. He did have an appointment to get a shave to clean up his Van Dyke.

My only regret is that we left before Toby could get his camera out of his bag to take a picture of Truman with me (Jim) and Len. Truman ranks right up there with Dan the Clam Lake ATV man as a unique and unforgettable character.

The remainder of the ride produced more corn fields and the discovery of yet another broken spoke on the drive side of Jim’s rear wheel. Burnett’s Bicycle and Mower in Wallaceburg Ontario (the closest bike shop) does not sound like a very promising spot for getting the wheel fixed yet again. It may be the end of next week before we find a place that can fix the wheel. Right now, the wheel is almost true so as long as no more spokes break, everything will be fine.

Day 39 Evart to Midland

Day 39 (11 Sep 09) Evart to Midland 62 miles

Evart, MI an ghost town in more ways than one. The 15% unemployment shows in the run down main street with a few bars just hanging on. We leave into a thick fog , more of a heavy mist with lights flashing and wiping our glasses every few seconds. No mercy from the large trucks or the pot holes in front of us.

Jim leads and I hope that his GPS also had Doppler radar. We have 25 miles of this crappy road and dripping fog and 21 wheeled trucks before we will hit the Pere Marquette Bike Trail. What a dream of a ride away from the traffic, wild flowers along the edge and gold finches and flickers flying around us. This would be the way to cross the country. There are “Larry Craig” wide stance bathrooms spaced about every 8 miles. The only thing missing are the evenly spaced latte shops.

A quick 25 miles on the trail and we are in Midland, MI miles away from what we have seen before. This town has Dow Chemical and Dow-Corning so there are jobs, shiny SUV’s on the road. We meet Toby Tyler in Midland and will head for Caro, MI then Marine City, MI for a crossing of the St. Claire River into Ontario, Canada. The St. Claire River flows between Lake Huron and Lake Erie

Toby is riding the Surly Long Haul Trucker bike and it is a trucker. Jim and Toby pedal downtown to get fenders for the rain, spare tire and any other necessitos for the coming ride.

Toby agreed to accept the duties of Trustee of the Laundry Fund from Leonard. Everything was done in a fully legal manner including a swearing of an oath on the Bike Laws of Michigan.

Days 36 & 37 Shawano to Manitowoc to Ludington

Day 36 (8 Sep 09) Shawano to Manitowoc 114 miles

Long day on the bike.

Evening before as we returned from the grocery store in Shawano, the clarion in the cemetery serenaded us with the Beatles “Something in the She Way Moves.” Seemed appropriate.

The ride produced another broken spoke on Jim’s rear wheel - 70 miles out. Didn’t slow us down by more than 5 minutes now that we’re veterans of this problem. Out with the spoke wrench, ¾ turn to loosen the adjacent spokes and ¼ turn to tighten the next two and we’re off with an almost true wheel.

The afternoon produced a lot more wind and a small flock of Sandhill Cranes in a field next to the road - Len’s first sighting in the wild.

Following a quick shower we were off the the Globe Laundromat - another 6 miles round trip to bring us up to 114; hopefully the longest day on the ride. The Globe, reputed to be the “nicer” of the two Laundromats within a few miles of the hotel remineded Len of the bar scene in the first Star Wars movie. I can see that.

At dinner, Jim calls neurosurgeon friend Joe Walker to inquire about some strange symptoms he developed suddenly in his right had a day ago. He has weakness only, mainly involving the small finger, but to a lesser extent more medial fingers. Joe isn’t sure what it’s all about because there are no sensory symptoms - no pain, numbness, tingling, etc. Next morning Jim checks email and Joe has sent an abstract describing a rare syndrome in cyclists that results in exactly the symptoms Jim has. Symptoms are the result of injury to the ulnar nerve in the palm of the hand. Gotta Love Joe. Hopefully, a day off from riding and Advil will be enough to at least partially heal the injury.

Day 37 (9 Sep 09) Manitowoc to Ludington, MI 6 miles riding, 60 miles by ferry

First breakfast, then Lowe’s (Jim’s looking for some sprinkler risers and pipe connectors to build a “Stick,” a device to massage sore muscles) and a replacement for the flashlight left who knows where (maybe Williston, ND), a stop at Starbucks and then the bike shop to catch the 10 AM opening and get the spoke fixed. After fixing the spoke, we have a long conversation with the shop owner who tells us about a group of 4 people who started a ride like ours and showed up at his shop SEPARATELY over several days. Seems they didn’t get along too well.

Len left the shop for a while to check out the Wisconsin Maritime Museum and the submarine parked at the dock. At one time there was a large submarine construction facility in Manitowoc (pronounced by the locals Mani-two-wok with emphasis on the last syllable). The subs got to the ocean via the Mississippi River through the Chicago ship canal - no guns, no fuel, no torpedos, etc. so draft was only 18 feet! He also encounters a retired fellow who used to work on the SS Badger (boiler cleaner), upon which we now travel. He learns that the Badger is the last steam ship operating on Lake Michigan.

We’re celebrities in downtown Manitowoc. Len walks out the door of the bike shop and a guy stops him to talk about our trip. We get directions to the nearest coffee shop and the young guy at the shop wants to know all about our trip and then tells everyone who walks in about it. Len goes next door looking for a Manitowoc souvenir and the store owner wants to know all about what we’re up to. At any moment we’re expecting a visit from a reporter for the Manitowoc Herald!

At Starbucks we saw an article in the Herald about a windmill tower that was being transported from Manitowoc. When we arrive at the Badger, they are being loaded on the ferry! There are four tower segments, up to 91feet in length and 15 feet in diameter. Two are already on the Badger and one is loaded as we lash down our bicycles. We capture the 4^th on film as it is being loaded. The trucks carrying each segment are impressive.

We arrive in Ludington and head directly to a nearby hotel. Short day on the bike.

　

Day 35 Crandon to Shawano

Day 35 (7 Sep 09) Crandon to Shawano 92 miles

We ate breakfast with the variably hung over bush racing fans from Texas - yes, they came all the way from Texas. How’d we learn the name of the “sport,” you ask? Later in the day in Pella we stopped into Hurricane Dawn’s café (couldn’t get the story on why Dawn got the nickname Hurricane) for water and in the course of discussion with the young woman tending bar (Dawn was in the kitchen), we learned the term “bush racing” and that it was the biggest deal in this area all summer. From the Texans, we heard about the Jurassic Park Bar, a place where you can see a 400 pound guy go down a mud slide with three women on his back and land in a pool full of mud. Guess if you’ve had enough to drink, something like that could be a lot of fun to watch.

At mid-morning we made a wrong turn (the map instructions were a little vague) and after going a half mile decided that we were going the wrong direction and turned around. Upon reaching the intersection where we made the wrong turn, we encountered a farmer on a tractor that must have been 50 years old and decided to ask directions to verify our sense that we had been going the wrong way. He had to turn the tractor off to hear us and after a short discussion wasn’t sure the tractor would start again. It started immediately, but then he decided he wanted to know more about what we were doing and turned it off again. After a much longer discussion, the tractor started reluctantly and the farmer tooled off in the direction from which we had come and we rode on to Mattoon, the next town on our way to Shawano (pronounced by the farmer “Shaw-no.”

Despite the distance, today’s ride was easier than any in the previous 5 days; relatively few hills and only one quite long and granny gear steep hill. At the top, we saw a sign for a family ski area intoning “think snow.” Unfortunately, I (Jim) have developed a little numbness in his left hand and weakness in the right. Time for new gloves and more attention to regularly changing hand/arm position.

Len wants me to tell you about the two trucks that passed us going like bats out of hell. They smelled so bad it was like the drivers were trying to get away from the contents they were hauling. Why the second truck was following the first so close, I’ll never understand. There were several pipes sticking out of the backs of the tank trailers covered with brown stuff, presumably pig feces. Never want to smell anything like that again.

Day 34 Boulder Junction to Crandon

Day 34 (6 Sep 09) Boulder Junction to Crandon, WI 77 miles.

A quick breakfast in the room and we’re on the Crystal Lakes bike trail a little after 7 AM. On County Road K at 7:30, we see sunlight filtered by gossamer mist in the trees. Quite beautiful. A Palliated Woodpecker flies across the road 20 feet in front of me (Jim). At first I think it’s a duck, then I recognize the bright red splash on the back of its head. Len missed it because he was adjusting his mirror. The nature of chance. Here come the hills - the first requires the granny gear.

How dare those motorcycle riders wave to us? They should bow to us as we ride the rollers and push the wind. They can stop at any bar, smoke a few ciggies, swill a few beers and buzz right past us again. They have no idea that today I (Len) want to hop on one of those beasts and get the rollers done with. A yellow Vespa beside the road - $400, helmet included - beckons me.

Actually , we rode through the Chequemegon-Nicolet National Forest on a scenic byway and the quiet of the forest was beautiful without the sound or smell of motors. There was the occasional truck pulling a boat. When you buy a truck in this part of Wisconsin it comes with a boat, trailer and bait bucket. Part of the stimulus package for this section of the country.

We stop for lunch (the aforementioned motorcycle group already on the bar side) at the Hile Inn and get an education in menu reading. Leonard, still looking for polenta does not know:

Paddles - hot wings without sauce

Bottle caps - sliced jalapeño, deep fried

Popper - deep fried jalapeño covered with cheese

Bskt - slaw and fries

Curds - lightly breaded, fried cheese

But wait there is more; at dinner we learn that “Wisconsin Veggies” are:

Battered fried mushrooms

Battered fried Cheddar Snaps

Battered fried cauliflower and cheese

Battered fried broccoli with cheese

Battered fried mozzarella sticks

Battered fried onion rings

We have put in about 2500 miles, but we stay away from these veggies and get the burgers instead. Little wonder half the people around here exceed their optimal body weight by a factor of 2 or more!

We arrive in Crandon. Some kind of off-road vehicle race going on. A huge fairground is full of RVs, campers, etc. Looks like a very BIG deal for a town of population 1961. Looked like a Cycle Oregon campsite only with campers instead of tents. Hotel room is really nice; dinner sucks.

Days 31 to 33 Osceola, WI to Boulder Junction

Day 31 (03 Sep 09) Osceola to Birchwood 88 miles

After breakfast at the River Valley Inn, we made a stop at the Coffee Connection on our way out of Osceola. It was a bit of a late start for a 90 mile day, but what the heck, this is a tour, not a race. After an easy ride into town, we were confronted with a very steep hill for so early in the ride. We made it up the hill, whereupon, Jim discovered that his rear derailleur would not shift down. Ultimately, we discovered that the kickstand was compressing the derailleur wire. The problem is resolved by repositioning the kickstand. The kickstand (a two legged affair) seemed like a good idea and it works fine when the bike isn’t loaded down with 40 to 50 pounds of stuff. Because of the torque on the point of attachment, the stand comes loose from the bike frame and then contacts the left pedal crank producing a clicking noise with each revolution of the crank - very annoying! After trying a variety of solutions, the best seems to be to attach it securely and not use it - an extra useless pound to haul across the country.

On the way out of Osceola, we experienced high density auto traffic for the first time since day 2 of the ride! However, in a short while, we were back in farm country. As the day progressed we encountered more and more small hills which at the end of the day added up to almost 2900 feet of climbing, bettered only by our days back in Washington and western Montana. In addition to farm land early in the day, we are now beginning to see much more forest, quite similar to New England.

We stopped for lunch at a funky little restaurant, the County Line (at the county line strangely enough) where we talked to a couple of farmers and the proprietress. The farmers were quite interested in all of the details of our journey and answered a few questions we had about crops and equipment. You may recall that we were speculating about why we were seeing so much corn - the farmers answered in unison: “crop insurance.” Which we inferred to mean crop subsidies, i.e., a no lose crop. We learned about dry and wet corn (neither Len nor I could remember why dry corn is preferable). All the corn we were seeing was destined for animal feed, ethanol, or processing into other products used by consumers (see Michael Pollin’s book “The Omnivores Dilemma” for all you really want to know about the things that are made from corn. We had noticed that the corn plants seemed small and our observation was confirmed - the corn is about 30 days behind schedule, in terms of growth. Dairy herds are being sold because the low price of milk cannot sustain small herds. The first frost is in mid-September. We’d better hurry up and move on.

After a somewhat frustrating day of up down, up down, we ended the day with a “Wally ride” that kept us on the best road we’d been on all day and made for a quick, smooth ride into Birchwood.

Day 32 (04 Sep 09) Birchwood to Clam Lake 69 miles

We go to Pappa Pete’s for breakfast in the Bluegill Capitol of the World. Len has “the Hook, Line and Sinker” and Jim French toast - no bluegill for either of us. We only have 69 miles to ride; practically a rest day. We have time for a sit down breakfast rather than the banana-yogurt room breakfast. I don’t see any mullet hairdos this morning.

“Grumpy” is carved in stone threshold to Pappa Petes. Seven men are playing dice at the bar to determine who pays for the coffee. You have to be there at 5 AM to play the game. Cooking does not start until 6 AM. Menu items include: Hook, Line and Sinker, Bills Usual, Garbage Can.

We order. As we are eating we hear the waitress say good morning to Bill. This is Bill of “Bill’s Usual.” Bill orders the usual after a moment thinking whether he would like to substitute a sausage patty instead of links. However, on consideration he gets the usual.

Waitress to the kitchen, “ Bill will have the Usual.” Turns out that Bill lost his wife and teeth some time ago. He tended the boiler at the local mill for 60 years, 7 days a week. He eats at Pappa Petes and no matter what he orders the price is $3.25 food + $1.00 coffee + tax = $4.48. Others pay the menu price. it’s a small town thing. He and the owner have been neighbors for years. We didn’t meet Pete unless that was him on the threshold.

The most pleasant part of the ride is through the Chequamegon National Forest. We see swamps, hardwoods, wild flowers, hear birds and see beaver lodges. When we reach State Highway 77 there are warning lights for elk crossings. As it turns out we did hear crashing in the forest when we were pedaling. Speaking to Dan at the Elkhorn Lodge it probably was elk who live near highway.

Our room is on and ATV trail. Dan, the president of the local ATV club and the self-appointed mayor of Clam Lake tells us of hunting, ATV rides and the quiet life of Clam Lake. The antlers at the Elkhorn Lodge are huge; we learn that they are dropped antlers from Dan’s uncle’s 22,000 acre ranch in Montana where he does not allow hunting and the elk have the chance to grow big antlers. One of the sets is the third largest on record - they are huge; wish we’d taken a photo but can’t see how it would have done them justice.

Elkhorn Lodge, home cooking, bar and rooms is For Sale for those of you who want a life style change. We’re moving on to our next destination, Boulder Junction.

Day 33 (05 Sep 09) Clam Lake to Boulder Junction 81 miles

Breakfast at the Elkhorn: Clam Lake Special for Jim and a short stack and an egg for Len. Dan shows up and as we leave, we run into him in the parking lot. He tells us about the wolf population in the area, about 700! Two of them walked off with a local lady’s “weener” dog last week. I thought of Doggie Diner J . We talk a little more about ATV’s and a bicycle club that gets together with the ATV club to do a wilderness ride. About the cyclists in relation to wolves he cracks, “meals on wheels.” The guy is a character in every sense of the word.

While waiting for me, Len strikes up a conversation with our hotel room neighbor. We found about a dozen ATVs in front of the motel when we went to breakfast. All belong to a 32 member ATV club from Rockport, IL. Our neighbor consumes 4 cigarettes while Len talks to him. Unfortunately, we don’t have an extra day to spend in Clam Lake. We had to miss the greased pig chasing contest to be held at the Bucksnort Inn. I kid you not! We both noticed it on our way into Clam Lake; a dilapidated, For Sale white building with pealing paint and broken-down snow mobiles decorating the grounds. Was it really a going concern? Guess while the guys are mixing it up with the bear hunters (more on that later), the wives and girl friends of the younger ATVers and anyone else who wants to catch a pig, dresses up in a tee-shirt and tries to tackle a pig. Sounds like quite a show - best attended fortified with plenty of beer. We would have stayed but were concerned about the effects of the second hand smoke on our delicate biking lungs.

Off we go! We’re on state highways for the first 26 miles - smooth sailing. Len sees muddy hoof prints on the road which we interpret as elk tracks. At 16 miles we arrive at Glidden, Black Bear Capital (didn’t say of what). Seems like everywhere around here is the capital of something or the home of something else. Len remembers that the chain-smoking ATV guy from Rockport says its bear season. Too bad for Glidden. Next is Buttercup, home of the Mighty Midgets! We didn’t see any midgets. Guess they were still in bed after a late night out with the leprechauns - like the ATV folks. We’ve got a couple of more capitals captured in the photos.

We eat lunch in Mercer at Johnny’s Bar and Café and talk to some local folks about our trip. After lunch we’re on the J, the W and the K. When we’re on the “dub-yuh” we take the opportunity to, well use your imagination, on “dub-yuh.” A little later we notice a street sign: “No Name Road.” Pretty original. At the moment the K is known as Last Resort Road - we didn’t know what to make of that and thought it best to move on quickly. I would have called it Frost Heave Haven Road - worst road we’ve been on the whole trip excluding the dirt roads.

We encounter another cyclist, local guy just out for a spin. He tells us that he once trained to be a trip leader for Adventure Cycling (we’re using their maps). Says he never lead a trip - always wanted to ride across the country. Unlike us, he’ll probably regret he never did it. We decline an invitation to stay at his cabin since we already had a reservation in Boulder Junction on a holiday weekend and needed to do laundry. Len is now the chief fiduciary for the laundry trust fund. Laundry done, we go for dinner - something other than hamburger, pizza, etc. Amazing the difference between Clam Lake and Boulder Junction. Boulder Junction has a bunch of restaurants, gift shops, an art gallery, coffee shops, a bakery and Clam Lake, well you should have the idea from the descriptions of the people.

Day 30 Milaca to Osceola, WI

2 Sep 09 Milaca, MN-Osceola, WI via Cambridge and the Outer Edge Bike Shop 83 miles

Cold ground fog as we leave at 7:00 AM. Us in our double layers and ear warmers. The kids waiting for the bus in their t-shirts. School just started.

The sun is just beginning to warm the farm land and there is no wind. The wind comes about 10:00 AM when things warm up. 25 miles into a rough road Len hears tick, tick, tick. Jim hears tick, tick, tick. Several stops and Len can’t find the source of the tick, tick, tick. Jim thinks the tick, tick, tick is from his bottom bracket.

Up a hill Len finds the source of his tick, tick, tick. It is a roofing nail in his rear tire. Stop in the driveway of a run down farm. “No trespassing” sign on the posts to the driveway. Hope there is no dog here. We have been chased by several dogs; sometimes 3 at a time. One dog was so big he appeared to be a pony from a distance.

Tick, tick, tick the rusty windmill turned in the wind. Len repairs the flat by changing to a spare tire and new tube. Under the tick, tick, tick, Jim pulls out his computer and updates the way points on the GPS from his computer. Len is thinking here we have an old tech windmill and a nail in the tire while Jim is up dating the GPS (he calls it a “field update.” We both laugh - have to find humor somewhere. Wonder if the computer can transport us to a bike shop?

Jim looks at the map and sees a bike shop in Cambridge so we take a detour. The Blackberry finds Larson Cycles. Larson Cycles is motorcycles. The Blackberry directs us to Outer Edge Bike and Board Sports. Len gets a new tire, Jim gets his left crank tightened, we put air in the tires and go to Caribou Coffee (a local favorite and check rated by Consumer Reports) and get ready for the last 40+ miles to cross the St. Croix River into Wisconsin.

Usual duties laundry, bike maintenance. Jim goes to town for parts for his kick stand. Gets another flat in town. We heard that our friends Daphne and Kathleen rode across the US with no rain and no flats. We are not riding in that bubble. In fact, Jim has decided that we are being haunted by the flat tire gremlin - misery.

We walk across the parking lot of our motel and discover that the restaurant is being remodeled. Back on the bikes to town, about a mile away. We decide on the Happy Panda since we’ve had no Chinese food on the trip, not daring to try those places who signs advertise “Chinese American.” The Happy Panda is a very happy choice indeed. Hot and sour soup, kung po chicken and broccoli in brown sauce with steamed rice to round out a great meal. We return to reattach the kickstand and patch Jim’s tire. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Day 29 Long Prairie to Milaca

Day 29 (01 Sep 09) Long Prairie to Milaca 81 Miles

Coldest morning start yet - 42 degrees (feels like 40). As we left Long Prairie, we were greeted by islands of ground fog hovering over the fields and sometimes the road. As we glide downhill into a low areas with fog the temperature drops noticeably. Despite the intermittent fog, the sky is clear - not a cloud in sight. We pass a small flock of wild turkeys and see our first Osprey since the mountains of Montana.

Speaking of turkeys, this is turkey and chicken farming country. Yesterday we saw a big truck load of turkeys driving through Long Prairie on their way to the butcher. That explains all the white feathers we’ve been seeing along the roadway. Again, there’s lots of corn growing in the fields and we speculate that much of the corn may be used for turkey/chicken feed in addition to going for ethanol production?

We looked forward to crossing the “mighty” Mississippi River mid-morning. It was so mighty that no one even bothered to name it at the overpass and we rode by not realizing what we’d just crossed. We came to Royalton “City on the Platte” two miles later and realized that we’d missed the Mississippi. On the east edge of Royalton lies the Platte River, once again, not identified by the city that claims it! Strange people these Minnesotans. We stopped for lunch at the Ramey Store (tiny grocery store, gas station and bar) and chatted briefly with the proprietress about our day’s ride, where we originally started, etc.

The wind the last three days has followed a predictable pattern that hopefully will not persist. Not much wind in the early morning, picking up mid-morning and reaching full intensity by about 11:00 AM. All three days it’s come from the south or southeast. Since our path has been almost as much south as east, it’s meant a lot of headwind and little relief even in crosswind. It’s made for long days on the bike.

Upon arrival at the west edge of Milaca, today’s destination, we discovered that the bridge crossing the Rum river was closed and that there was detour. We start on the detour and see no immediate turn to head east. Again we’re headed south into the wind, this time with a lot of truck traffic. We turn around to investigate the possibility of crossing the river, thinking that maybe the bridge may be passable on bicycle. No such luck. Jim spies a lady down the street taking groceries out of her car and asks if there’s another way to cross the river without taking the detour. She says the detour takes you 6 miles to another town and that you then have to go back the other way to get to Milaca. However, if you go down the dead end street across from her street you can go through the cemetery and cross the river on an old train bridge that’s been converted to a foot bridge. Len wants to know if one of us has to die to get through the cemetery - she doesn’t get the joke, but we laugh and head to the grave yard. Along the way, we are accompanied by a young father and his seven year old daughter who are out for a bike ride and are also fishing. They show us the way to the bridge, we cross and after consulting the GPS on Jim’s Blackberry, find our way to the night’s lodging place.