June 23, 2019
Motorcycles Are Everywhere
Otter Lake to Port Huron
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Jackie’s avg speed: 10.4 mph
Scott’s avg speed: 11 mph
Weather: 65-79 degrees, breezy
Scott asked our neighbor if he heard the odd sound during the night. We thought it was an RV pump or something. Our neighbor said his wife heard bullfrogs, they were so noisy, they kept her awake. They sound like that when they’re mating.
They were still going at it this morning, and now that we had an explanation, it made sense. Crazy little frogs. Such exuberance!
Scott prepared breakfast and packed up the gear while I tried to put the finishing touches to the previous two days blogs. Alas, the wonderful WiFi was not robust enough to upload photos or maps. So, we got away at 09:04, a little later than we had hoped. Today would be close to 80, and we wanted to beat the heat.
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Michigan State Bicycle Route 20 from Otter Lake to Wadham followed various Michigan two-lane highways that were heavily traveled. Each time we took a turn onto a different road, I hoped it would be less busy, so I was hoping all day long.
After 25 miles we came to Brown City, a little before noon. I was ready to eat and more interested in meat than a carb rush from Nutella. We rolled up to Linda Lou’s Bar and Grill that opened onto the street, which we accepted as an invitation to stop in. A guy in a cowboy hat was setting up amps and equipment for live music. He was the talent for a benefit performance to raise money for the family of someone who had recently passed away. The organizers were asking all patrons to donate $10 to help the family deal with the unexpected loss.
The grill drew us in, but the bar was the biggest draw for the other patrons. Scott and I were the only ones eating, this was a drinking occasion. The theme of the music was booze, with lyrics like “born with a shot glass in my hand,” “the high cost of living ain’t worth the cost of living high.” The singer asked for whiskey to get his voice primed for the early hour. Everyone was sipping beer or mixed drinks. When Scott asked for black coffee, the waitress looked surprised, but rolled with it and said she would have some brewed. I had a Coke and a refill.
We finished our burger and chicken strips and went outside to saddle up. About 15 motorcycles parked parallel to one another had gathered outside while we were eating. We hadn’t heard them over the sound of the amplified music. Two more came in before we rode away. We guessed they were out riding as a gesture of mourning for the seven motorcyclists who died Friday evening when struck by a pickup truck in New Hampshire. For the last couple of days we had seen signs posted in people’s yards, telling drivers to watch out for motorcycles. This terrible accident was a nightmare come true. We dedicate this blog to them.
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Motorcyclists were on all the roads we traveled for the rest of the day. And then we saw a fellow bicyclist coming from the opposite direction. We crossed the road to chat. Alex from Boston was bicycling to Seattle, aiming for 65 miles a day. He was in his late twenties and reminded me of my younger son who took a solo bike ride through Europe at about the same age. He had ridden the same route along Lake Erie that we would cover, so I asked him if black flies had been a problem. No, but mosquitoes were. He was headed to Otter Lake Campground to spend the night. We highly recommended the lake for swimming but forgot to mention the WiFi surprise.
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When we got to the small town of Yale, an A&W was strategically located on the highway, so we stopped for root beer and a root beer float. We still had some miles ahead of us and needed the boost. When reviewing the route the evening before, we decided to take a bike path not on Michigan Route 20 or the Adventure Cycling route. The day before a father and his two grown sons had chatted with us. The father had told me the “Avoca to Wadham” trail could save us a few miles.
We got to Avoca and turned into a gravel driveway when we saw a sign for the trail. The Ride with GPS app pointed to a grassy strip that led off into the woods, but visions of a mosquito infested swamp ahead made me balk. We looked at the map again to find another way into Wadham. A gravel road would take us there after a few more miles on the highway. We turned back to the main road. Scott was ahead of me and I saw him turn right into the city park. The trail was on the other side. This would have been a better place for the sign. Just saying. The app showed the trail, but we missed it, because we didn’t zoom in enough. When the view was expanded, the real trail came into view, parallel to the grassy path.
After a day steering close to the edge of fast cars, this was a beautiful thing. The sun was behind the trees on the right and we rode in the shade. The crushed limestone surface was finer than gravel, harder than dirt, and relatively dust free. Marshes and ponds lined both sides, and a few painted turtles sat on the grass beside or on the trail. They hunkered down when we took their photos for our precious little grandson.
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We pedaled almost to the end of the 12-mile trail and stopped to call the KOA campground. $48 a night, $55 if we wanted an electrical hook-up. We did, to charge our portable battery and our gizmos. Then we checked the weather app. Rain was expected from about 02:00 to 10:00. A Baymont motel was just a couple miles away and located close to the trail we would take to the Marine City ferry across to Canada the next day.
The Baymont was a little shabby, $90 including tax. (The clerk said she gave us a double room for the price of a single). After consuming the Nutella bagels, tortilla chips, and a jar of salsa I got at a gas station nearby, we checked the website for the Marine City ferry to verify the hours of operation and discovered it was closed indefinitely. The ferry terminal was damaged in 2018 but the owners found a buyer willing to do the repairs. But now U.S. Customs and Border Protection was balking at re-opening the crossing point. The mayor said it was in the hands of the U.S. politicians. The Canadian side was agreeable.
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Scott called the Algonac-Walpole Island ferry located a couple miles downriver. A recording informed callers it would not take bicycles or pedestrians because the river was too high and the pedestrian ramp was underwater. The only other option was to ride north, out of the way a bit, to the Bluewater Bridge between Port Huron and Sarnia, Ontario. Someone was still on duty when Scott called at 20:15. The guy said we could bring our bikes to a toll booth and then one of the bridge management employees would drive us across. No charge. We had a plan.
Today's ride: 64 miles (103 km)
Total: 1,895 miles (3,050 km)
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