The Last Post?

WHY SO LONG?

Ok, so I've been home now for two months and haven't gotten around to doing my final blog post.  Why?  Well, to tell you the truth (why not?), it's taken me this long to get my brain wrapped around the trip.

For as long as I can reasonably remember, since my teenage years at least, I had dreamt of bicycling across the United States.  As my blog lays testament, I have now accomplished (fulfilled?) that dream.  If, before I set out, the bicycle fairies had visited me to offer: "Sit down and draft out your perfect trip, we'll make it happen" I would not have had sufficent imagination to have created beforehand as fantastic a trip as the one I experienced.

THE PEOPLE.

The title of Lance Armstrong's book, "It's Not About The Bike", is certainly apt for my ride.  It's a good thing that it took me until I was 56 years old to get around to it.  I strongly suspect that in the exubrance of youth I may have missed something: the human element.  Maybe, because of necessity, 56 year olds are required to address life at a slower pace than 18 year olds, I was able to truly appreciate the many gifts of the myriad of people I met along the way.  Just review the pages of this blog for example after example of the wonderful people I encountered.  These accounts only scratch the surface.  It strikes me how happenstantial most of these encounters were.  Had I started a day earlier, a day later, had I ridden a little slower, a little faster, turned right rather than left or left rather than right, stopped somewhere different to eat, rest or camp I would have met, largely, an entirely different set of people.  It boggles my mind, given all the wonderful people I did meet, how many I did not!  What did I learn?  People are by nature good sorts.

LIFE ON THE ROAD.

Who has the time to take a summer off to ride across the country?  Well, mostly school teachers and students, the recently graduated and as yet employed, gypsies and the retired.  I count myself amoung the last.

Having managed these 56 years, I have since childhood, be it school, work or other, awoken each morning with plans and obligations, some made or created by me, some made or created for me.  Plans and obligations that required that I consider beyond the present, what needed to be accomplished by the end of the day, week, month, year.  A vacation, usually for a week at the most, may have given me a short repose, but upon return to the "real world" my old plans and obligations were there to greet me.  (Sound familiar to you?)  Now I'm not suggesting that life could or even should be lived differently.

I found that retirement brought a new set of plans and obligations.  Those created by me, my long delayed "to do" list, and those created with some help from family and friends ("You're retired now, will you. . . , can you . . . , you should . . .").

When I took off on that bike all those plans and obligations melted away.  My planning horizon was typically no more than a day with the option of changing whatever plans I had made on a moment's notice.  For three months I had the luxury of living in the present.  Kind of got used to it.  And what a joy. 

Now after three months, for me, it was time to get off the bike.  Life back in the "real world" took some getting used to.  All those plans and obligations were patiently awaiting my arrival.  At first, I must admit that it was a bit overwelming.  But these last two months (since I have been home) have given me to realize that I am blessed, as well, by the things that "tie me down".

I feel grateful beyond words that I had the opportunity to take this trip, and mindful of those who are not so fortunate as I.  My parting thought:  Next time you find yourself engrossed in the latest negative story that the news machine has managed to dig up, turn off the radio/television and take a moment to appreciate that you live amoung a world full of wonderful people, because you do.

Mission Accomplished?

. . . In the words of our venerable former president. And as George stood on the deck of that ship making his pronouncement, little did he understand that the mission had just begun.  And so, I suspect, it is with me.  The physical journey has come to its end. The understanding has barely begun.  The people I have met, the places I have seen, the experiences I have had will forever touch my life.

(This post will have noticeably fewer photos. Why? Bev took my camera in Burlington. The Thompsons gave me a copy of their photos but I can't open them. So, this post will have noticeably fewer photos. Sorry.)

THE ROAD TO BURLINGTON

The trip from Ticonderoga up to Burlington took me first along the west shore of Lake Champlain in New York and then across the bridge in Crown Point and up the east shore in Vermont. A treat of smooth, quiet back roads with picturesque views of farms and the lake. It nice to see so many small farms apparently thriving. Contrast this with the get big or get out nature of farming seen in the mid-west. Nice to know that there is still a place for both.

The new bridge across Lake Champlain from New York to Vermont.


I stopped at a small store on the way for "second breakfast". Why is there always country music playing in these stores? Must be some kind of federal law. Here I met Maurice, out for a ride on his lightweight carbon road bike. We made fast friends and resolved to do a two person pace line for the balance of 21 miles into Burlington, he on his 16 pound bike and me on my 70 pounder.Must have looked an odd sight but with the thought of seeing Bev I was hot on his back wheel and he on mine on the downhills.

  Maurice paces me into Burlington. Does it look like I wore him out?

Bev and I had a wonderful visit, like a couple of newlyweds. It was hard to say goodbye but made easier with the knowledge that I'd soon be home.

Joe and Rhonda Thompson caught up with us the second night, had a chance to meet Bev and poke around town with us. (What is it with these people that keep following me around?  I reluctantly agreed to let them carry my bags for the rest of the trip and to let Rhonda resume cooking for me and supplying me cold beers at the end of the day's ride. I didn't know what else to do.)

Bob gets a spruce-up in the hotel in Burlington in preparation of the final leg of the ride.

OVER THE MOUNTAIN AND THROUGH THE WOODS.

The road from Burlington brought me over the Kancamagus Highway through the White Mountains in New Hampshire and into the woods of western Maine. Often have a driven the Kancamagus; it was a thrill to bike it. The climb to the peak at 2890 was very manageable, the views spectacular, the the last big coast of the trip into Conway, fun.

Here I am at the peak of the Kancamagus with some friends. (What, the sign says Katahdin?  How'd that happen? What do you mean I'm not in this picture? Ok, Ok, remember I didn't have my camera?  This was the best I could do on short notice. Sorry.)

The woods of Maine proved more challenging than I had expected with constant rollers ("hills" for you non-bike types) with a day's ride adding up to some significant climbs. It was nice to arrive on the coast and the territory I could call home.

NOT DONE YET.

On August 15th Joe and I rolled down Perry Road and into the driveway. Paul had stretched a ribbon across the road labeled "Finish". (Odd, because I'm largely English and Irish.) I luxuriated in the company of my friends, family and familiar surroundings. Bev and I celebrated our 33rd anniversary on the 16th. Rhonda, Joe, Bev and I headed for New Harbor for some lobster. Brother Ed arrived from New Jersey with brother Paul in tow, a wonderful surprise. Friend's visited. I spent time with my mom, siblings from New Jersey and siblings from Maine. Karen and Alan arrived on their continued cross country trip to visit and later we had a delightful meal at mutual friends (and discovered we had more mutual friends). And yet, and yet, there was still some unfinished business. . . .


SEEMS AS IF YOU CAN GET THERE FROM HERE.

Most cross country bikers end their ride in Bar Harbor. Bar Harbor? That's practically on the west coast! No, the end of my ride lay two days and 115 miles east from home in Lubec, Maine. On August 21st, Joe, Paul, and Ed accompanied me on this last epic portion of the journey (we allowed Rhonda to "sag" us as a special favor to her). A cadre of friends and family awaited at ocean-side to help us celebrate. What a fitting way to bring my trip to an end.

(There was a camera in attendance for the last day.  Thanks to Bill Lagerstrom for most of these shots as well as the front wheel picture in the main part of the blog.)

Pace line down Route One

Says "Easternmost".

Is this guy excited or upset?  Looks like some seaweed on that wheel.

Cheers!

Thanks, Bev.

What can I say?  It speaks for itself.

RE-ENTRY.

So it's back to the demands, comforts, and pleasures of everyday life.

To all who have graced this journey, you will forever be a part of the fabric of my life. For those of you whom I have contact information: I look forward to reaching out to each of you individually.  Please be patient with me.

I'm not ready to make any observations, pronouncements about the trip.  Give me time and look for a post at a later time.

Peace

New York New York

Today I'm in Burlington, Vermont anxiously awaiting Bev's arrival.

The Odometer says 3860

It's always nice to be in the States after traveling abroad.

Hey, what's that guy to the right doing, timing me?  If I knew this was a race I wouldn't have stopped for that second cup of coffee.

 

 

What, they named the whole state after one tall building?

 

YOUNGSTOWN.

Despite my best put on pitiful appearance, I couldn't wrangle an invitation to stay with the folks I met in Lewiston after crossing the Lewiston Queenstown bridge.  Instead, I got directions to the campground in Youngstown.  Good thing!

Before I could get off my bike I was adopted by Karen and Jean-Michel Patten.  Here's what happens when you get adopted by someone from Ontario:  You get fed supper, supplied with wine and fine cigars and great conversation peppered with laughter to the wee hours of the morning, fed breakfast, and driven into Buffalo to pick up your brother who is coming in by train to ride with you.  I'm looking forward to my adoptive family joining me in Maine next year.

In Youngstown I met Greg who is biking, no, wait, cycling from Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine.

In Youngstown I met Peter and Deborah Mulcahy from Anchorage, Alaska (Is there another Anchorage?) who are riding Washington to Maine and whom I already knew by "road lore".

In Youngstown The Gang of Ten caught up with me and we had a chance to spend some time and laughs. 

In Youngstown I got a day off and a chance to call home and have a long leisurely phone conversation with Bev.

Youngstown, good thing.

BROTHER ED.

Did I mention that my brother Ed joined me for the ride across New York?  Well, he did.

Through rain, through hills, through cold, through lonely times, through boredom, the thought of joining my brother kept me peddling on.  And, despite the fact that I explained to him that for the first month I had a sore bum, and all through New York I had a pain in the, well, let's say "donkey", the experience was one of the highlights of my life.  It was wonderful to have an opportunity to share this experience with my big brother.  Despite not being a cyclist, Ed pedaled a loaded touring bike over 400 miles which included conquering the Adirondacks as well as enduring a thunder storm or two and at least one day of riding all day in a downpour.  I respect people who are not afraid to say "Yes" to life.  Once again my big brother gave me a reason to look up to him.

The balance of this post describes our experience.

 

 

Ed burning up the road.  Looks like a biker to me!

 

Hey Ed, time for a new pair of shoes, do you think?

THE ERIE CANAL.

The former tow path along the Erie Canal has been converted to a bike trail.  We rode 90 miles of it.  Despite being largely unpaved, the trail is flat and smooth and allows some easy biking away from the noise and distraction of traffic.  Miles of single gear, side by side conversations.  The trail goes through big cities like Rochester and a handful of smaller, delightful towns. 

In Holly, our first night's ride, we camped at a spot beside the canal.  Free camping.  Free use of the bathrooms.  Free use of the showers.  Greg camped with us, we lost track of him after that.

The Trail was a great way to get started. It was a unique experience, but after 90 miles we were ready to head back to the road.

 

Camped along the Erie.

I still don't get what's so spooky about it.

 

 

Boat on the Canal.

We waived, they waved.

RIDING IN THE RAIN.

We're riding in the rain. . . What a glorious feeling, we're soaked to the skin...So, Ed got a little taste of wet weather cycling.  Night one we got treated to a thunderstorm and a down-pour.  Day two we got treated to an all day steady rain.  Breakfast was cooked under the shelter of a gazebo. Tents and gear were packed up wet.  The coffee and "second breakfast" (we would have made a Hobbit proud) at the Café in Brockport tasted all the better for the adversity.  Errol, a fellow diner, sharing the shelter from the storm, offered to drive us, and our gear to our next destination.  "No", said we, we must soldier on.  And soldier on we did to Fairpoint and a hotel room to dry our stuff and ourselves.

Unfortunately, this was not the end of the rain.  We certainly had our share of "tears from heaven" in New York (as well as some thunder, lightning and hail).

LAKE ONTARIO.

(Hey, wasn't that the name of that place in Canada?)  Our trip north from the Canal brought us to the southern shore of Lake Ontario.  Our first stop for ice cream (for the day, that is) on the Lake was at a shop selling Gifford's ice cream.  For those of you not in the know, Gifford's is made in Maine.

Sodus Point was a great place to camp, right on the shore of the Lake, with a site for $10.00.  We had a great supper in town at Captain Jacks, out on the pier. 

We eventually made our way to Port Ontario to camp on the east side of the Lake before we headed inland.  Time to go for a swim and complete my dip in each of the Great Lakes.  "What, the beach is closed?  I can't go in?  What if someone breaks the rules?"  Well, someone did.  All I'm sayin'.  (Oh, by the way Jack, thanks for giving this one away in your comment to my last post.  Last time I tell you a secret.)

 

Sodus Point

 



Lunch at Captain Jacks

 

 

There'd be a better view of the lake if these two clowns weren't in the way!

 

THE ADIRONDACKS.

I had forgotten what that little gear in the front was for.  Heck, I had forgotten that it was there, I hadn't used it in over a month.  Yes, there were some climbs in the Adirondacks.  Not as big as the climbs in the Cascades or the Rockies, but climbs never-the-less.  Memorable is the mile and one half climb out of Blue Mountain Lake of over 400 feet.  This area is peppered with tourist towns and washed up towns, not much else.  Cell phone reception was the poorest of the trip and camping and resupplying was difficult.  Our last day, into Ticonderoga, treated us to one last long hill.  Here we arrived early, ate breakfast, made a trip to the library, hung around on the porch of the café (Yes Alan, they have cinnamon buns in Ticonderoga) and enjoyed the falls in town.  Early afternoon Linda, Ed's wife, arrived to take him home.  Before they left we had lunch in the park and, of course, an ice cream.  (As we sat at the ice cream shop, Bill and Barb biked by.-How's that for alliteration?)

   

Linda (or is that Bat Woman?) comes to take my riding partner.

Those are the Ticonderoga falls in the background

Hello Blog Readers,

This is John's brother Ed.  After an 11 day trip with John I wanted to express my gratitude for one of the best adventures I have ever had.  When John asked me to join him on his trip I jumped at the chance in spite of the fact that I was out of shape, had no equipment and no idea what a 400 mile bicycle ride involved.  No problem.  John coached me on training for the ride and delivered his spare touring bike to my house in New Jersey so I could train on it.  He also brought all the camping equipment I would need.   He took me shopping for the proper biking attire and other supplies.  Once on the road he taught me all the ins and outs of tour biking.  It was a wonderful trip, full of new experiences, Interesting people and places, great conversations with strangers and each other, laughs and companionship.
So thank you John for one of the greatest times of my life!  I can't wait for the next one.
Ed
P.S. It doesn't get any better than this!

Our neighbors to the north (west?)

Odometer says 3734

I'm in Long Lake New York today

Riding with my brother Ed.

OH CAN-A-DA

EAT YOUR HEART OUT.

I entered Canada by ferry across the Saint Clair River in Sumbra, Ontario loaded with my shipment of tea from the Marine City Post Office.  (Thanks again Bill and Lee.)

No, No, that's spelled "ferry".

When I asked the Customs guy for a good place to eat he replied: "Should have eaten in The States."  Ok, not a great start.  Turns out he was right.  The services in Canada, including places to eat, are, well, sparse.  As a side bar:  Alan Crossley got me hooked on cinnamon rolls, one vice I did not have at the beginning of my trip.  Alan, if you are out there, bring your own cinnamon rolls to Canada.


LAND-OH-LAKES.

I went for a swim in Lake Erie, a welcome respite from the hot weather.  By Canada I have waded in Lake Superior (52 degrees), swam in Lake Michigan, waded in Lake Huron, and swam in Lake Erie.  Stay tuned for sorted details of the completion of my water adventures in Lake Ontario.

Charles Atlas?

Look carefully and you can see lake Erie behind the flowers.

Later, as I passed the eastern section of the lake there was an algae bloom.  Nasty.  Dead fish were washed up on the shore and it smelled like sewerage.


OVER INDULGENCE.

Thrilled to have a new tea supply, I brewed myself 3 cups of tea the second afternoon in Canada.  At 2:00 am, wide-eyed, I walked to the beach to lay in the sand and star-gaze.


FARMING IN ONTARIO.

What do they grow in Ontario?  Well, besides the usual, they grow electricity. There are wind towers and solar cells in almost every field.

Blades of corn and blades of wind.

Wind and sun.

PEOPLE, MORE PEOPLE (THEY SEEM TO BE EVERYWHERE).

Outside of Port Dover I heard a noise, looked behind me, and discovered Jean-Claude riding his 1973 Giatne bicycle.  He pulled beside me, introduced himself with the explanation:"  I am from France.  maybe you can tell from my accent, no?"  Jean-Claude accompanied me that day for 40 miles as we rode handlebar to handlebar and chatted, Jean-Claude with the signature hand motions of the French and a curse the inconsiderate motorists.

I met a man whose entire bike was wrapped in electrical tape, every inch.  He introduced himself: "I'm Billy Parker.  Want to take my picture?  Do you have a Tunney for me for breakfast?"

Enjoy this picture, it cost me a Tunney.

MORE TRAILS.

For the trip from Colborne to Fort Erie, 10 miles, I rode the Friendship Trail, another nice rail to trail affair.  From Fort Erie to Niagara it was the Niagara Recreational Trail.

Happy trails to you.

IF NIAGARA FALLS.

Who will pick it up?  Niagara Falls was everything I expected, everything.  Beautiful falls and cascades of people.

Hey, who left the shower on?

   

People

(TAKE NOTE:  TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY.  READ POST BELOW!)

Hey:  My brother Ed has joined me for the ride across new York!!!  More on this in a later post.

WONDERFUL PEOPLE

Ok, so here's my rant:  Everyone, everyone, should take a cross country bike ride and meet the wonderful people who inhabit this world.  I have told stories of the people that I have met in earlier blogs.  Here are some more:

I met and spoke with Chandra at a campground in Lake George, Minnesota.  The next morning when I woke up, on my picnic table was a bag full of good things to eat and a note from Chandra and here sons Jeremy and Keith wishing me fair travels.

At a campground in Port Huron I met Ed and Cindy Puddock who invited me to their campsite for the night for some refreshments and an evening of conversation.

"The gang of ten".  There is a group of ten cyclists riding together across the country together.  A wonderful group of people with whom I have been hop-schoking with and riding with different members.

Charlie, who is doing "the four corners".  What are the "four corners"?  how about a single bike ride from California to Washington State, to Maine to Florida to California?  He's riding to raise awareness of climate change.

Charlie and I ready to stop for the night.

And then, and then there are Karen and Jean-Michel Patten who adopted me as soon as I arrive in the campground in Lewiston, New York.  They fed me supper, plied me with wine and cigars until the wee hours of the night, took me to Buffalo the next day to pick up Ed, and provided me a million laughs.  Thanks guys, see you in Maine.

Karen, Jean-Michel, and I.

How about Jean-Claud, a Frenchman, no?, out for a ride, who accompanied me for 40 miles as we chatted and laughed?

Yesterday, as we huddled away from the rain in a cafe in Brockport, New York, we met Eril who gladly checked the forecast for us on his tablet and offered us and our gear a ride to our next destination.  (An offer, as tempting as it was in the middle of a rainy day with rain forecast for the rest of the day, we declined.)

Helo Canada (Onterio), Goodby US (Michigan)

Today I'm in Fairpoint, New York

The odometer says 3501

Mile stones:  Two months on the road as of July 22nd, wow.

Sorry to have missed Bev's birthday on July 15th.

THUMBS UP

I crossed into Ontario today by ferry from Marine City, Michigan.  It's a $1.00 ferry ride.  Since my last post, I have completed the lower peninsula or thumb of the state with these stories to tell:

MY, BUT THAT WERE A LONG ONE.

Turns out that I will ride more miles in Michigan than any other state.  Eight hundred and ninety three all toll.


PRETTY TOWNS.

As I made my way down the western side of the thumb I was treated to a number of picaresque towns.  Harbor Springs and Petosky are two towns on either side of a bay on Lake Michigan which, again, remind me of Maine coastal towns without the smell of salt air.  Lots of boats in the harbor, beautiful homes and plenty of nice (tourist) shops.  In between is the state park with a beautiful beach and sand dunes.  After the west coast I headed east through the center of the state.  This is a treed and farm filled area that could easily be mistaken for Maine.  (Wait a minute, does it sound like someone is homesick?)  Smack dab in the middle of this otherwise rural area is the town ow Frankenmuth.  An interesting German settlement with beautiful buildings and plantings and lots going on.  I arrived on a Friday night and was treated to, perhaps, a dozen street performers.  People were milling about enjoying the music and weather.  A local restaurant was having an all you can eat steak and chicken barbecue.  They lost money on me that night!

The town of Spring Harbor.  Looks kind of like a town on the Maine coast, doesn't it?

Petosky State Park Beach.  Looks kind of like a beach on the coast of Maine, doesn't it?

The town of Frankenmuth.  Ok, this one doesn't look like a Maine coastal town.

MID-STATE.

The middle of the "thumb"  looks a lot like, you guessed it, rural Maine.

Methodists mid-Michigan style.

Farming mid-Michigan style.

Ah, so there is a mushroom capital after all!

TRAILS.

I have had the opportunity to ride several trails during this trip.  Many have been converted from former rail lines.  On the eighteenth I rode 46 miles on the Pere Marqoette Rail Trail, a highway for bicycles.  It's nice to spend some time away from traffic.

The Pere Marquette Trail.  A highway for bicycles.

BOB GETS SOME NEW SHOES
A close examination of my tires in Traverse City led me to conclude that they would not make it to Burlington as I had planned.  There was still plenty of rubber left but the casings were starting to come apart.  I think that I may have had a bad set of tires to begin with.  Shortly after I began my trip I noticed that the sidewalls were beginning to crack and as I went on the tread began to separate.  Never-the-less, I got 2,800 miles out of them, that's enough.  Absent any mishap the new tires should get me home.

Time to re-tire.

A TEA PARTY

I have been desperate.  Desperate for a good cup of tea.  Seems as if there's not much demand for lose tea across most of the country and I soon ran out of tea to brew.  As Dave, a fellow biker from Scotland says,: "You cant get a bloody cup of tea in the States".  Well, my good friends Bill and Lee from back home took care of that problem for me.  The sent me a car package of seven different teas.  I'm now set to make it back home!

The UP (That's Upper "Peninsula") (Of Michigan, that is)

Today I am in Traverse City

The odometer reads 2771

The upper peninsula reminds me very much of Maine, trees, fields, lakes, woods and sea-shore.  Looking out over Lake Michigan is like looking out over the ocean.  The horizon stretches out to the outer reaches of the water.  The waves crash against the sandy and rocky shores.  Seagulls are everywhere.  The only thing missing is the smell of salt air.

Looking out over Lake Michigan.

The economy here is very much tourist based.  There's not much farming and the mining business (iron, mostly) seem to be on there way out.  Again, this reminds me of Maine which has seen a decline in its extraction based businesses and its farming leaving tourism to take up the slack

  What do tourists like to eat?

Pasties, of course.

A meat and potato concoction wrapped in a soft pie like shell

If every town in the mid-west has a grain tower than every town in the Upper Peninsula has a water tower.  Usually a bulbous affair atop a skinny tower.

Here's Trenary's "standard" water tower.

Here's the "historic" water tower in Thompson.

I had a wonderful two day stay with Joe and Rhonda's son Collin and his girlfriend Hedi in Chatam.  Collin is working with the Michigan State University Agbioresearch program.  His focus is on developing crops and methods to extend the growing season in colder climates.  He graciously gave me the tour of the farm he manages which includes a recently constructed "tunnel" greenhouse about the size of the Lincoln Tunnel.  After my visit I said my goodbyes to Joe and Rhonda who are returning to their home state of Iowa to attend a wedding.   They'll return to Collin's afterwards to continue their trip.  We'll meet again somewhere between there and Maine.

Collin and Hedi.  That's the "tunnel" in the background.

I made a visit to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.  Similar to Devil's Island in the Apostle Islands, the waves and Ice of Lake Superior have carved the sandstone shore into interesting formations.  (Hey, wait a minute: Lake Superior, Lake Michigan, maybe we should call it "Lake Horseshoe".)

 Here's "Miners Castle", one of the most notable formations in Pictured Rocks.

At Pictured Rocks they even teach you the correct way to fall off!

The straights between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of Michigan holds Mackinac Island which is reached by ferry from St. Ignace on the Upper Peninsula or Mackinaw City (yes different spelling) on the Lower.  I took the ferry from Upper to Lower, stopping at the Island.  What is Mackinac Island?  Imagine taking every coastal tourist town the length of Maine and shoving it on one little island.  That's Mackinac Island!  Everything, yes everything except the sidewalks is for sale or rent.  Gift shops, hotels, restaurants, fudge, candy and ice cream shops, horse carriage rides, bicycle rentals, historic building tours, and yes, even kite rentals.  That's Mackinac Island.  Want a map of the town to find your way to the next place to spend your money?  That will be $2.00 please.  Oh please!

Hold on to your wallets folks.

Today I rode in the rain, sixty miles in the rain, sixty miles in the pouring rain.  What's that like?  Well, not a lot of fun.  I have a rain jacket and rain pants.  Does that keep me dry?  No that does not keep me dry.  It's kind of like this:  "Do want to get wet wet from the outside in or the inside out?"  I drink between one half and one gallon of water a day, most of which ends up coming out my pores.  Despite the fact that my rain gear is designed to "breath", there's no way it can keep up with that amount of moisture.  So why bother? Being soaked with rain results in significant vapor cooling, usually too much.  Before too long, my rain gear simply functions as a wind barrier.  Fenders help, they keep most of the water from the tires off me and the bike.  I have a really neat wind direction indicator.  On days like today there is a constant spray of water forward from the front wheel.  As the wind blows, it deflects the spray to either side, back toward me, or, if I'm lucky, straight ahead (tail wind!).  Water is the death knell for a leather saddle.  I have a saddle cover to protect mine from the rain.  Those bright yellow things you see in some of my pictures are pannier covers.  They help, but don't keep out all the rain.  Combined with large Ziploc bags inside, my stuff stays dry.  The covers do help to keep all the mud off my bags.  Finally, I have a helmet cover.  This works well to keep me both dry and warm and has a really cool built in flashing light.

Why is this man smiling?

The rest of the Midwest

Still in Chatham, Michigan.

My last post was so dull that I figured I had better get another one up quick before I lost my viewership. If you haven't been on the site recently, there is a post from yesterday.


MINNESOTA

Remember North Dakota?  Well Minnesota is kind of like that but not quite as bad.  Lots of fields but a few more trees.  What I did find in Minnesota is more great people.  Read my previous post about my stay with the Ruuds.

I had a wonderful weekend stay at the lake home of Doug and Sue Lamski.  The Lamskis are long time friends of the Thompsons and offered us the use of their beautiful place on Little Pine Lake in Perham. (Actually, they offered the Thompsons the use of their beautiful place on Little Pine Lake.  I just tagged along.)  We (Rhonda, Joe and I) arrived Friday night and stayed through Monday morning.  The Lamskis arrived from their home in Mendota Heights on Saturday and stayed through Sunday afternoon.  Delightful conversation and lots of laughs.  The town of Perham is a nice little resort type town, very nice.  Turns out that the weekend that we were there they were having a barbecue cook off (the town that is, not the Lamskis). We dropped by to sample some wonderful BBQ ribs, chicken and turkey together with corn on the cob.  Boy did the wind blow!  The lake had whitecaps the whole time we were there: whitecaps strong enough to undermine the docks and wash up fish.

Sue and Doug.  Not sure who that is in the middle.  Is that you Rhonda?

The Boys enjoy a cigar and a beer.  Kennedys, eat your hearts out!

Joe and I save the Lamskis' boat from certain disaster.

On Tuesday, the first of July, we arrived at Jay Cooke State Park in the eastern part of the state.  The park is on the upper St. Louis River.  It was nice to be beside the river and among the trees.  Here Joe's sister and brother-in-law Nancy and Rod Smith met up with us for a few days of camping.

Entrance to Jay Cooke State Park (I think).

The upper St.Louis.

Camped among the trees (at last).

Nancy and Rod.

On Wednesday we made a foray into Duluth for the day.  Duluth is a nice little city on the southwest shore of Superior Lake .  Turns out that Superior is even larger than Horseshoe Lake.  Go figure.  I practiced being stupid on Wednesday.  (For a practice run, I did quite well.)  As I got ready to go in to Duluth I noticed that I had an open bag of nuts on the picnic table.  Not wanting the squirrels to eat them I decided to put them in my tent.  Anyone see a problem here?  Yup, the squirrels ate holes in my tent to get to the nuts!

Draw bridge in Duluth.  If you don't want to draw one you can just look at this picture.

WISCONSIN

Upper Wisconsin looks a lot like Maine, small farms, fields, woods and lakes.

Farming here isn't on the grand scale that it is at the Ruuds'.

A road-side garden.

I finally found my way to Easy Street and yes, I did stop.

On Thursday, the third of July, we arrived in Washburn.  Wanting to avoid Fourth of July traffic we decided to make Washburn Memorial Park our home for the next few days.  The park is on the south shore of Superior.  For the Fourth we made our way 13 miles north to the town of Bayfield. Bayfield has the feel of a New England coastal town absent the smell of salt air.

The Bay in Bayfield.  (It would be kind of disappointing if they didn't have one, wouldn't it?)

We took a tour boat to explore the Apostle Islands.  It was a beautiful day, calm, and nice to be out on the water.  The captain of the tour boat was very entertaining.  Avery enjoyable afternoon.

This is the shore line of Devil's Island, one of the Apostle Islands.  This effect is from the wave and ice action on the soft sandstone base.  Pretty cool, huh?

The light house on Devils Island.  A light house on a lake?  We've got to get one of these for our lake!

A boat cruising the Lake in the early evening.

Bayfield put on a great fireworks display.  As an added benefit, we could see the displays of other towns around the Lake in the background.  Surely, a memorable Fourth.  After the fireworks were over I looked out in the bay to see that the barge that was used to light the fireworks was on fire, really on fire.  Few people seemed to be too concerned about this, as it continued to burn with abandon.  No fire boat, no shouts for help.  The next morning when we asked the waitress in the coffee house if she had heard about the disaster she responded "Oh yeah, they always end the show with the bonfire on the barge."  Ah, one more drawback of being a tourist.  On Sunday morning, the seventh, we said goodbye to Nancy and Rod

Hey, is something on fire?

Hope all these pictures make up for the dullness of my last post.