Evan Malinchock
Waking up in the fog is something dream like, the world around you seems muffled and the air seems thick. The cars on the road in front of my tent appeared to be forming in the air and dissipating just as quickly. I was shaken out of my stupor by Brian reminding me that we had to bike 90 miles today.
Fog over the Manistique Bridge
After packing up an absolutely drenched tent we hit the road and stopped to eat a bike loud 19 trademark, the grocery store breakfast. Between stuffing my mouth with a bagel and cream cheese and washing it down with coffee I took some time to appreciate the moment. This bike trip has been everything I ever wanted and more and I was so fortunate to be here in this moment, no matter how benigne it may be.
After miles of unremarkable biking in gloomy foggy and overcast weather we stopped for lunch at a classic yooper (the name that upper peninsula people go by) restaurant. Wes and I stuffed ourselves with pasties, handheld meat and potato pies. The pasties were delicious and it seemed like the second we finished them off the sun came out brighter and hotter than ever.
After another 45 miles of putzing along Lake Michigan we pulled into St Ignace. It was here we caught a ferry across Lake Huron's crystal clear waters to Mackinac Island (pronounced Macki-NAW, don't ask me why). There we caught another ferry to Mackinaw City on the mainland. Mackinac Island seemed like a bizzare world to us dirtbag cyclists. There are no cars, so it seemed like every single inch of sidewalk was taken up by bikes. The houses, mansions, and stores, seemed like they were pulled directly out of Disney World, and the rolling hills in the background were as picturesque as the rest.
Wes enjoys the view from the ferry
Evan on Mackinac Island
After a short walk down Main Street we hopped on a ferry that brought us back to the lesser picturesque rv park that we're camping in now. The day was one of massive scenery changes.