This should be a great time. The location has flashed me back to 1973. After the end of my first year at Michigan's Toughest University, Harold Carter and I decided it would be wonderful to ride 10 speeds from Houghton to Hazel Park, his hometown. There were many ups and downs in the 600 mile trip and Aloha State Park was definitely an up. We had a great nights sleep after a long day previous. In the week long trip a night's sleep was a rare indulgence that separated 80 to 100 mile days on a bike.
We made it the first night to Marquette and spent the night at a friends house. It's surprising how sore you can get just peddling a bike but sore we were in many places. The next night was spent in our 2 man tent in a roadside stop in the middle of the Seney Straights. The straights are a stretch of road for 30 miles as strait as an arrow with very little on either side of the road save this stopping area. The next day dawned overcast and was a sign of things to come. It soon started to rain and rain and rain. The cold temps and cold rain were welcome to our sore muscles, but not for long. Five hours of peddling in the rain found us in McMillan cold, wet and arguing with each other about whose idea this was and how stupid the other guy was. The Cobblestone Bar was an oasis in the myriad of emotions and pain from our situation. A boilermaker or two got me back on track and motivated to push on. We found out that Engadine has a laundromat and we could dry off and get warm. The 40 miles at breakneck speed got us to downtown Engadine, two buildings one of which was the much sought after laundromat. Things were looking up and the rain had even slowed to just a drizzle. A sign on the front door said "Closed for Father's Day". When the twitching and swearing subsided we both talked it thru about how we were in the middle of a long trip and needed to maintain our pace and could probably make the bridge that night. Our plastic bag rain gear was now reducing the wind chill and helping to retain body heat so press on we did. We were soon in Naubinway and they had a laundromat!
Same sign, same message. As we were looking in the window at the beautiful dryers a voice shouted out to us. Looking around the source of the voice couldn't be readily seen but there he was waving at us from the steps of his church. Across the parking lot was the pastor asking if we wanted to use the laundromat. This was as close to a sign from heaven that I've ever witnessed. We were allowed to use the facilities for free and got an invitation for supper. Later after a sing-along session an offer was made to sleep on the floor of the living room with no mosquitoes or cold wind. That was the best nights sleep we had on the trip and was a perfect end of the most tumultuous day.
The next day found us at a gas station just before the Mackinac Bridge. Harold's gear box was becoming very hard to peddle and with no tools we asked to borrow some. After the hospitality from the previous night this was a sharp slap in the face. We had to rent the tools for between $10-$20. This would leave us with just enough money for the toll to get across the Mackinac Bridge and a can of noodle-roni, our staple food source. So rent we did and soon were in the bridge pick up truck heading to Mackinaw City.
After many inquiries in town as to cashing a check we were directed to the sheriff's office for advice. The sheriff heard our story and just shook his head. Why would anyone ride a bike for 600 miles and not have cash instead of a check book? Instead of explaining the economics of the end of the college year finances I just asked if he would cash my check personally. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife but in the end he wanted us out of town more than he didn't want to cash the check. With hand on holster he explained what would happen if the check bounced. With more money in checking than was needed we confidently made our way to Aloha for that nights sleep.
The rest of the trip was much more subdued if 100 mile days on a bike could be considered that. If you ever travel M-33 between Fairview and Atlanta check out the hills. The northern most largest one had a car struggling to get over the top as we approached. At the top of that hill we could see another in the distance looking just as big but there was nothing to stop us now.
As a side note I didn't own the bike just borrowed it with a $100 check as collateral. When we returned the bike the day after the trip my bike renter had just cashed the check thinking the bike wouldn't be returned. Thank God for snail mail, with a phone call and stop payment the touchy situation with the sheriff was avoided.
Get Outdoors Downriver.
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