May 30, 2015
The Psychology of Being Up North
Hayward, Wisconsin
The first thing I had to do this morning was to clean all of the sand, dirt, grit, bugs, worms, and leaves off my bike. Yesterdays rain seemed to glue all of that crap onto my frame and drive train. After cleaning and lubing the bike, I had to clean myself.
It was barely 40-degrees when I started riding and a 15 m.p.h. wind was blowing in from the north. Fortunately, I only had to pedal north for about a mile. Then I turned eastward and got to enjoy a chilly crosswind for the rest of the day. The thing is, I didn't mind the weather too much because I had the blissful feeling of finally being "up north." My definition of "up north" involves a landscape dominated by trees--and more pine and birch trees than maple and oak trees. Another characteristic of "up north" is an abundance of bars located on highways in the middle of nowhere. Bars with names like Whiskey Joe's, Dave's Roadhouse, or The Thirsty Clam. Bars that display ancient, rusty "Old Style Beer" signs out front. Bars painted Packer green and gold. The air is noticeably cooler "up north." The mosquitoes are bigger. Half the motorized traffic is towing a boat. There are lots of little lakes and a few big ones. Ah yes, I have definitely transitioned from "America's Dairyland" to "Up North."
I got on some very remote roads east and north of Spooner, WI. They were so peaceful. At one point I rode four miles without seeing a single car. Then I rejoined U.S. Highway 63 and I don't know what to say about what happened next. I'll do my best to describe it since, as a reporter for the Journal-Picayune, that IS my job.
Generally I keep an eye on motorists coming from the opposite direction. Sometimes they wave to me and I would feel bad if I didn't wave back. In this case, I clearly saw the driver of a semi raise up both hands and slap them together. I waved but I felt a little foolish because I wasn't sure I understood the gesture. Was he applauding me? Was he trying to kill a mosquito in mid-air? Or . . . was he trying to tell me that he wanted to to squash ME like a bug? I had a bad feeling that it was the last one.
The negative vibe went from crazed trucker to mischievous kids. As I pulled into a convenience store in Hayward, I noticed two boys sitting on the curb eating ice-cream sandwiches. I got off my bike, took off my helmet and, like always, stretched my arms, neck and legs for a few seconds. While doing that, I heard one of the boys yell out "HEY BALDY!" By the time I looked back at them, the little punks were running down the street laughing crazily. My guess is that they were about 12-years old. I should have given chase just to scare them a little bit. I would have expected nothing less when I was a 12-year old. But instead I just watched them, and every time they looked back over their shoulders they saw my terrifying laser-beam stare, which apparently didn't scare them because they just kept laughing.
Today's ride: 55 miles (89 km)
Total: 1,744 miles (2,807 km)
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