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Monday, 13 Sep 2021
94.6 miles
1519 ft of climbing

Thump thump thump. Rustle. I awoke to something moving around near my head. Fortunately it was outside the tent, but I could feel something roughly toad-sized as I brushed my hand along the base of the tent wall. It disappeared.

The sky was still dark but rather than try to snooze with visions of toads crawling up my tent, I crept out of bed and broke camp. I can never sleep in on the last day of a tour anyway, since I'm usually meeting Nancy and meant to be somewhere on time anyway.

So I hit the road, noting the ominous clouds above. Sprinkles, and then steady rain as I approached Fond du Lac on the Peebles Trail. I waited in a park pavilion for a half hour while watching the storm pass on weather radar.

It's clearing, time to go! Right after some marginal gas station coffee and Oreos to warm me up. I made my way to the Wild Goose State Trail, another crushed limestone rail trail.

This was a nice quiet spin to Beaver Dam, past farm fields and marshes. Along the way I saw herons, cranes, a bald eagle, and one brave chipmunk who popped his head out of his mid-trail hole at almost exactly the wrong time.

The rail trail became county "letter roads" again, peaceful if not scenic or sweet smelling. In Beaver Dam I swore to find a healthy lunch but seeing a Casey's convenience store right on my route, I caved and instead enjoyed a slice of pizza.

Back on the county roads, I watched farmers harvest and transport corn silage, a process I wasn't really familiar with. I'm not sure if this is the default practice now instead of harvesting feed corn, but it was universal that day and interesting to watch. It also meant some of the roads were strewn with muddy silage, which adheres surprisingly well to bike frames.

A few tiny towns and one bridge outage later, and I found myself cruising the empty streets of Sun Prairie, a suburb of Madison. It was slightly spooky with all the kids in school and everyone else at their jobs in Madison. I made my way to bike paths that would lead me to the big city.

Madison is one of those cities that (generally) does bike infrastructure right. Instead of token recreational bike paths, a bike lane is a part of every road that's going somewhere useful. It was a relief to just be able to hop on US-151 and use the bike lanes to work my way down to Olbrich Park, where I met up with Nancy. We were happy to see each other, and I was even almost on time.

Sunday, 12 Sep 2021
88.8 miles
518 ft of climbing

Daylight revealed that I'd managed to pitch my tent in a reasonable spot, and that my covertly charging battery pack was in still in its hiding place and now fully charged. The campground was bare of twigs and sticks (and there was a heavy dew) so I opted to skip making breakfast over my wood stove. Instead I stopped at a gas station on the way out of Oconto for an athlete's meal of coffee and an egg and cheese burrito.

My intention was to make it to Green Bay early enough to have a shop swap my bottom bracket (or at least I could buy/borrow some tools), so I didn't waste too much time stopping for breaks. On the way to Little Suamico I met two ladies riding in the other direction, on a tour around Lake Michigan. We stood in the middle of the road and chatted for a while, watching the sandhill cranes, and then wished each other well.

Rolling into Green Bay, I hit some token bike infrastructure, but bailed when the intersections got goofy (the typical "okay now pretend to be a pedestrian and use the crosswalk" thing). After navigating some road construction, I made it downtown to the Broken Spoke Bike Studio, which Google said would be open on a Sunday. Google lied. Fortunately, just across the river was Pete's Garage, and the (stereotypically grouchy but very capable) mechanic was able to squeeze me in and swapped in the new bottom bracket in a matter of minutes. It felt very good to have that sorted out, like I could finally relax. Now it was time for lunch.

I didn't want to stray too far from my course, which meant stopping at one of the grottiest grocery stores I'd seen. As I was locking up, I looked across the parking lot and saw a bagel shop we'd stopped at in the past, Lox Stock'n Bagel. A bagel sandwich hit the spot, and I headed out to again attempt to use the confusingly disconnected bike infrastructure.

Some light trespassing later and I was on my way to the Fox River State Trail, a rail trail that starts out as asphalt but switches to packed crushed limestone. It was in good shape, owing to it being restricted to non-motorized traffic in the summer. Cutting through the agricultural landscape is something I enjoy, and it was nice to rejoin the rolling county roads at the end of the trail.

I caught a bit of light rain as I rolled in to Hilbert, home of the world's saddest gas station. In Wisconsin, a convenience store boasting "fresh produce" means that it will have an entire cooler section of cheese and meat sticks, but nothing resembling fruit or vegetable. Not the greatest thing for feeling well on a bike. At any rate, I stocked up with what I could for the evening and headed toward the campground.

On the way I was lucky enough to pass a nice little farm stand with actual fresh produce, as well as baked goods. I limited myself to one loaf of pumpkin bread, which was delicious.

A bit more rain on the final stretch had me worried of a swamped campsite, but I arrived at Calumet Harbor to find a pretty (and dry) campground with giant oaks and a few WPA-era buildings. I landed in my spot, chatted with some other campers, cooked dinner over my woodstove, and settled in for the night.

Saturday, 11 Sep 2021
140.0 miles
2451 ft of climbing

I slept in a bit later than I'd planned, having not being invited to the campground rager, which went well past midnight. My air mattress had also given up a bit, and I didn't have the most comfortable sleep. But I did manage to get up, break camp, and make coffee and oatmeal on my wood stove.

I hit the back roads to bypass Crystal Falls, but was just not feeling too great. Occasional eye flashes and a persistent headache stuck with me for quite a while.

With Bikes & More closed, the only other bike shop I'd found anywhere near my route was Marinette Cycle Center, and I called them from the road as soon as they opened. Dave was filling in for the regular staff, and was extremely helpful in finding the exact part I needed in their stock. He even offered to reopen the shop after I got into town so I could swap it!

At about 20 miles in I rolled through Florence and decided to stock up for lunch, since I wouldn't be passing through many other towns. The baker at Chainey House Bakery made me a giant ham and cheese sandwich on fresh bread, and it and I headed south on the usual "Iron Mountain Bypass" route.

I was still flagging a bit, and the headache was still with me, so I stopped to rest and eat my sandwich just north of US-8. By then I'd decided to let Dave off the hook for an after-hours repair, since the bottom bracket wasn't sounding much worse. I figured that if I at least had the new bottom bracket with me, I could swap it using improvised tools from a hardware store if it got worse. I called and paid for the part, and arranged to pick it up from the shop mailbox when I got to town.

It's always a challenge finding good spots to fill up with water, and I found another old hand pump in a park in Dunbar. Perfect! I was off the hook for making it to Marinette at any specific time, so I eased up a bit, hoping my headache would subside. I was all alone on these pleasant county roads, and was happy to find a store with ice cream sandwiches in Athelstane.

A quick pause in Crivitz, another stop because I'd forgotten to lube my chain, and then back to the grind. Soon I diverted from my planned route to head southeast to Marinette instead of south to Oconto. Hmm, wasn't there some gravel around here? Yep, here it is, not bad at all!

Despite Google Maps typical needlessly circuitous routing, I made it to the bike shop and retrieved my bottom bracket from the shop mailbox. By this point I was 112 miles in and starting to feel it. My headache had finally gone, but there wasn't much light left in the day. I'd ridden by a city park with campsites on the way in, so I made my way back there.

There were a couple of RVs parked, but the campground was mostly empty. This looked perfect, and I could end my day a bit early. I called the reservation number and was told that the tent section was closed and that if I tried tent camping there I would be kicked out. Well then. I'd looked for other campgrounds in this area when I did my initial route planning and knew there weren't many options, so I decided to top off my water, dig out my reflective gear and lights, and head on to Oconto.

Leaving Marinette was tricky due to construction. As I was waiting an an intersection, a pickup driver pulled alongside,  rolled down his passenger window and yelled out to me. "I'M AN AVID CYCLIST BUT ONLY RIDE AROUND TOWN. HOW FAR YOU GOING TODAY?" Avid cyclist, sure, so you understand how appealing being yelled at from a pickup is.

Somehow I escaped Marinette and made it through Peshtigo. The sun set, and I found myself on marshy low roads right on the shores of Lake Michigan. As the air cooled, a figurative plague of frogs emerged. They were in the road, hopping across the road, jumping into my wheels. I tried to dodge as many as I could. It was the most eerie experience, rolling through the swampy darkness, alone, with thousands of suicidal frogs.

Finally I emerged in Oconto, feeling wiped out. I made my way to the Kwik Trip and bought supper (a family-size microwaved chicken mac and cheese) and a gallon of water. The campground, Holtwood Park, is on a peninsula cut out by Oconto River, which meant a bit of a maze to get to my campsite. The campground was dark and seemed to aggressively deny me any power outlets (all the powered sites had only 30A and 50A outlets), but I eventually found a place to charge my battery bank in a nearby pavilion.

All I really wanted was a shower though. In the dark I dug out my shower stuff and a change of clothes, and then made my way to the showers, which were in a special trailer raised off the ground a few feet. Access was by an unlit wheelchair ramp with an evil handrail that took a chunk out of my leg and sent me crashing to the ground, bleeding. To add insult, after I made it inside I found the only shower I've ever seen that required quarters. QUARTERS.

That seemed somehow fitting given my experience with the Marinette park, but after I sulked for a while I rummaged around for change (there was no change machine in the campground) and had the best 8-minute ($0.50) shower of my life.

Off to bed, better luck tomorrow?

Friday, 10 Sep 2021
113.7 miles
4127 ft of climbing

I got out the door slightly later than I'd hoped but right on time compared to previous trips. The skies were just starting to brighten at 7:15 AM and I headed toward South Range, going through my mental packing list over and over.

It was chilly and a little damp, and I wore a long-sleeve wool jersey over a short sleeve synthetic top (my lucky Two Hearted Ale jersey), and a reflective high-viz vest. I made the obligatory stop at the Hop Sign on Onkalo's Corner and took a photo for good luck.

An uneventful cruise to Tapiola with a brief stop at the ball field for a nature break and to top off my water bottle. Karvakko's and Kurt's stores were both open already but I had barely started so didn't need a resupply.

I stopped at the church at the south end of Pelkie to dial in my rear deraileur--something didn't seem quite right. After a snack I hit the road again, and stopped again briefly at the veterans memorial in Laird. Somewhere along the way I ditched my long sleeve jersey as it was warming up with mostly clear skies.

After the usual slog west on M-38 I finally hit Forest Highway 16 and could enjoy the quiet stretch to Kenton in the Ottawa National Forest. At the Kenton wayside I was pleased to see the water pump still working, and stopped to rest and eat my sandwich. At this point I'd decided that the clunking I was hearing was something to do with the bottom bracket, and looked up the nearest bike shop, Bikes & More in Iron River.

Lunch done, I was back to FH-16 on the other side of Kenton for a good grind to US-2. US-2 has wide shoulders where FH-16 meets it, but quite a bit of traffic which makes it a noisy and uncomfortable ride. The climbs and descents are long and uninspiring. Coming in to Iron River, the wide shoulders disappear and are replaced by hard curbs, and it was around here (in a 45 MPH zone) that a driver overtook me and then cut hard in front of me, I assume to "teach me a lesson." Further down the road I got the classic "Get the fuck off the road!" from a passenger in another car.

I left US-2 and navigated to Bikes & More, but was too late. Way too late, as the place was shuttered with a real estate sign out front. I paused for a break, and decided to continue on my planned route.

Bikes & More turned out to be on the way to the grocery store I'd planned to stop at, Angeli Foods. I stocked up with supper supplies, snacks for tomorrow morning, beer, and a gallon of water for drinking and cooking. Then, joy, back to US-2 for the final stretch of the day.

Bewabic State Park looked like any other Michigan state park, and I rolled up to the reservation window. After a brief wait I got checked in and got my site permit ("Just put this window tag...wherever?"). The check-in was aways from the campsites, so it was one final good climb up the hill and to my spot for the night. The site was hard packed dirt, but I found a reasonable spot to pitch my tent, and got settled in.

My site was one of the very few without power, but I was able to "borrow" some briefly from a couple of empty sites until their occupants arrived. The showers and restrooms were nice, and I enjoyed some hiking trails down to Fortune Lakes where I ate the last of my supper while watching a pair of loons.

Just behind my site was a large wooded area, so I was able to scrounge up enough wood to have a small fire, just enough to warm me up before bed.