Ride Report - Foggy Foreign Lands

Day 26 - July 24 - McGregor (IA) to Tomahawk Lake (WI)

Making the transition from solo to companion and back to solo can be bumpy for me. I watch as ease and companionship disappear in the side mirror and I feel the pang of separation. Fortunately on this warm, sunny day, the transition is tempered by a spirited ride up the west bank of my favourite waterway, the Mississippi. Having grown up in the interior of British Columbia in close proximity to Kootenay Lake and Columbia River has given me a special affinity for powerful, moving water, both as soothing and as an incontrovertible force, with the potential for destruction and renewal.

Leaving the river behind, I swing north east allowing the GPS guide a 'non-motorway' route through beautiful Wisconsin countryside. My ultimate destination is Copper Harbour, a sizeable peninsula arcing from the Michigan shores toward the belly of Lake Superior. Copper Harbour was a hearty recommendation from Dave at Green Acres Motel back in Spooner, WI (think mirrored hotel room ceiling). He was even so thoughtful as to print out several pages of Google maps highlighting the attractions of the area, including breathtaking views from high atop Brockway Mountain Drive, historic coal mine tours and Isle Royal National Park.

A mid afternoon break has me taking a quick nap in a park (Napping... a precious childhood skill I am learning to reengage on the road) and a snack / coffee break at a Wisconsin cheese shop where even hats come cheese style.

 

Now, letting the GPS navigate without consulting a map is 'easy' but sometimes ill-advised. I had, I thought, set my sights on a State park two thirds the way to Copper Harbour. Blissfully following the GPS, I instead end up in a town many miles off track of my goal with the sun low in the horizon and my body calling for dinner and rest. Sharpening my 'just ride and trust' skills, I wander north in search of a campsite. I stop at the first likely prospect to discover there is an available site but the manager wants to charge me the full RV service fee (which is 50% more than the usual unserviced tent fee) despite my attempts to explain my tiny tent and minimal power/water needs. He makes it clear there is no room to negotiate and it's too late in the evening for me to keep looking so I relent, annoyed but polite. It's true $20 vs $30 isn't a huge deal, yet if your plan is to travel for many months and on a fixed budget paying 40-50% more for accommodations would definitely add up over time.

After answering a few questions about my trip, the manager warms to me and brings firewood, more than I could use in a night, I suspect he was feeling a little bad about being so rigid about the fee. Food in my belly always improves my outlook and so I wine and dine by campfire light before bed.

In the morning, I greet the manager warmly and my suspicions are confirmed as to my surprise he hands me back a tenner with a sheepish smile and comment about having had a bad day. Even though this, like so many on the road, is a one time connection I am happy to move on from the campsite with a sense of it having been repaired.

Day 27 - July 25 - Tomahawk Lake (WI) to Copper Harbour (WI)

With a clear destination in sight, I once again allow the GPS to lead me off the beaten track and relax on random scenic secondary highways and side roads. Another afternoon break has me checking out Bond Falls (Michigan). A truly impressive series of falls with the main one 100 feet wide cascading 40 feet.

 

I plan to spend a couple days exploring the Copper Harbour peninsula so I peruse maps and consult with Parks staff mid-day to pick a place to setup a home base. Following their advice and highway signs, I strike out on gravel side roads in search of Alice Lake Recreation Site. My spirits are damped by rain and the absence of any further signage. I can't find the recreation campsite. After an hour or so of guessing a general north easterly direction, I give up frustrated and direct the GPS to take me back to civilization, the town of Copper Harbour.

Arriving at Fort Wilkins State Park just east of Copper Harbour, I am troubled to find out the Park fee paid at the falls doesn't cover this park. To camp I would need to repay the daily park fee on top of the camping fee. Again this seems trivial, but the extra cost frustrates me and this whole 'finding accommodation' alone at the end of the day is my achilles heel. Empathizing with my dismay, the Park Ranger kindly shares that I can find free camping farther out at the end of the peninsula and while the road can be rough, glancing at my bike she estimates it shouldn't be a problem.

Directions in hand and buoyed by the thought of exploring a dirt road, I head out past the pavement. The rain I had caught earlier in the day was the tail end of a sizeable storm that had drenched the peninsula. The road, with some manageable washouts, has some potholed, slick muddy sections that challenged my riding skills and is at the limit of what I'd attempt solo and fully loaded.

(For the record, these pictures are not the "tricky" sections. When things get exciting, I'd love to stop and get the camera out but I'd love even more to keep the bike upright!)

The rain had also brought out voracious mosquitos and soaked anything resembling a roadside campsite. With that and the isolation of the area, I go as far as I dare (~6 miles) and decide to backtrack to town in search of warm, dry (indoor) accommodations.

This one of those days where plans did not quite go as I intended; the weather is challenging and I am once again struggling to find a place to call home for the night. There is some element of comfort and security that I require. Some certainty that without it, I fill with self doubt and frustration.

While being in the midst of struggle may be uncomfortable to experience (or uncomfortable to read), it is part of why I am here. Even in the throws of my inner critic and self doubt, a deeper, wiser part of me has utter faith that this is a situation to be embraced, not resisted. Challenging my comfort zones and stretching boundaries is where I learn. If I wanted it easy I would have stayed home. But I didn't. I am here. I am thousands of miles from my comfortable, familiar life to lean into the discomfort and learn to find safety and ease in uncertainty.

And tonight, I do. I feel invigorated by the challenging, muddy ride having tested my skills and won. I loosen my grip on disappointment and self critizism and find a charming little cabin and dinner in a pub across the way. I chat with Mike, a fellow dual sport rider, have beers with locals at the microbrewery and connect with a friend from home. It feels good to be reminded I am not alone and the "up and down" day rounds out on a distinct "up" note.

Day 28 - July 26 - Copper Harbour to Hancock (MI)

I forgo worrying about the dent in my accommmodation budget and enjoy the comforts of a warm cabin, borrowed blowdryer** and wifi while waiting for the morning fog in the harbour town to clear. I do need to find more modest accommodations for the duration of my stay on the peninsula and so with a little research, I confirm the charming town of Hancock midway down the peninsula has a municipal campsite for a whopping $14/night. Sweet!

** silly fact... blowdryers on the road are a distinct luxury. I don't carry one on the bike and don't like to don a helmet with wet hair so being able to wash AND dry my hair in the morning before I depart is a simple and rarified pleasure.

Following local knowledge gleaned over beers the previous night, I seek out Brockway Mountain Road for what promises to be twisty roads and stunning views of the harbour and Lake Superior.

Well... like any good coastal road...

Regardless, I thoroughly enjoy the at times one lane, constantly twisting, steep mountain road (rare in these parts). I make my way south where a love of storms and lighthouses is indulged in Eagle Harbour. To my suprise my new freind Mike rolls in to the parking lot shortly after me having seen the yellow and white DR cruise through town. Despite his friendly, kind demenour I can't quite muster the courage to take him up on his offer to stay at his family cabin. (Conservitism that I'd later chastize).

Tempted by tours and more sightseeing, the rain keeps me moving and I arrive at the Hancock Municipal Campground late afternoon. The forecast says the rain and cold should abate in a day or so which will make my trek east more enjoyable.. So I spend a little extra time setting up a rain savvy 'home' and settle in for a few days of hanging out and exploring.

 

This day also marks the end of my fourth week on the road. It's hard to believe that I left Vancouver 28 days ago with a plan to ride to Alaska and instead have meandered east through nine states, two provinces and 5,000 miles, lit a spark of romance and shifted my sights to another dream riding destination, Nova Scotia. Eighteen of those twenty-eight nights were spent camping and mostly cooking my own food with the other nights spent in homes of friends and various b&bs, hotels, motels and cabins. There has been a total of six days stationary and fourteen days solo. I have seen deer and buffalo, open grassy plains and forested estuaries; ridden in everything from roasting +100F to thunderstorms complete with lightening and hail; from semi-truck laden interstates to high mountain passes with views that steal ones heart and breath in the same moment.

I am far enough away from home to have the daily routine of work/city life fade giving way to a new rhythm of movement and discovery. There is a distilling of life on a motorcycle that necessitates simplicity. Freed from familiar routine, I feel both blessed and burdened with abundant time, endless choices and no commitments beyond what I make for myself. This is a foreign land indeed.

I lament the point of it all. What am I doing? What am I hoping to accomplish? What if I finish my 4 months sabbattical and nothing has changed? I worry this time will be wasted.

I marvel the point of it all. I have longed for this opportunity for as long as I can remember and some unknown combinaton of providence, hard work, blind intentions have manifested this crazy adventure for me; full of uncertainty, spaciousness, isolation, community. I feel a push, some drive to keep moving every day. I'm not quite sure why, so I make the choice to, with curiosity and wonder, marvel in this foreign land.

 

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