Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Detours


One of the joys of a long bike trip is encountering some unexpected scene of beauty, a sight that you would often miss in a car because you're traveling too fast, and can't see freely all around you. I caught one of those unexpected sights this morning – a bald eagle soaring overhead, the lake to my right and a tree-lined field to my left. The eagle's wingspan was truly awesome. Its distinctive white head and tail feathers stood out against the clear, blue sky.

Much of today's ride was right along the water. While the quiet road that I traveled may not be U.S. Route 101, its vistas of the winding shore and roiling waters provided for an enjoyable ride.

I passed through Manitowoc, an industrial town on the water. The town clearly established its Wisconsin credentials – Packers games were playing at the local movie theater and an enormous painting of beer bottles (albeit not Miller bottles) dominated downtown.



Two Rivers, about five miles to the north of Manitowoc, is the alleged birthplace of the ice cream sundae. I had to commemorate that event with a stop at the town ice cream parlor. Dick, an agreeable senior working the counter, had some unorthodox views on root beer floats (that they have chocolate sauce and nuts in them) but, despite that, we had a nice chat about riding in the area.

In the late afternoon, following my maps, I ended up on a stretch of Lakeshore Road that ran through the Point Beach Nuclear Power Plant. I had passed an unmanned check point with signs indicating that the road was open to the public but later came to a sign limiting access to authorized personnel. This is a dreaded moment on the trip – discovering you've wasted effort, need to backtrack, and detour out of your way. Soon after I turned around, I was shouted down by a security guard in a truck. The guard asked me if I was a badged employee, a question that struck me as a little ridiculous, given that I was wearing spandex shorts and sitting on a bike with a tent and sleeping bag strapped to the back, but I politely said no and explained my situation. The guard took pity on me and allowed me to pass through the restricted area, saving me from the extra miles. The enormous electric wires running from the plant, sizzled as I passed under them.

Who would have imagined it would be so difficult to get into Green Bay. About eight miles out, a construction sign announced that my route was closed two miles ahead. I changed course only to find my new road blocked about five miles outside downtown. When I hit my third road closure I started to suspect that Green Bay had been infected by one of those flesh-eating zombie viruses and that the federal government had quietly quarantined the city. When I saw the fourth closure, I knew that was the case. Regardless, I risked it all to sleep in a bed. My hotel is the height of luxury. It has carpeted doors and lightning that somehow makes the room dimmer when you turn it on.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Path Less Traveled


When I told people I was going to bike around Lake Michigan, many assumed I would be on a bike path, rather than roads. While for the vast majority of this trip I will be on back roads, county roads, and two-lane highways, the last two days I have spent more time than expected on bike path. I rode one of the best this afternoon – the Ozaukee Interurban Trail. This paved trail runs for over thirty miles through farms and along marshlands. It's amazingly well-maintained and doesn't have many road crossing. Oncoming tractors are of greater concern.

I'll admit it – today was lax. I planned to have dinner with my friends, Tanya and Todd, in Sheboygan so I only had to travel about 55 miles to Kohler-Andrae State Park. I took my time, stopping for lunch and checking out the sights in Port Washington. On these days, I benefit from knowing I have plenty of time to reach my destination. Once again the weather was beautiful, full sun, but not humid.

At the campground, I picked an ideal wooded campsite, pitched my tent, and then climbed the small sand dunes and headed down to the lake. White caps were rolling in. The waves and all my mother's warnings about the rip currents kept me close to the shore (don't worry mom) – the water was refreshing.



I had my first great meal of the trip at Il Ritrovo in Sheboygan. Years before Neopolitan pizza became the craze in Chicago, Sheboygan was worth a visit to eat the pizza from Il Ritrovo's wood-fired oven. Catching up with Tanya and Todd over the Funghi and Pizza alla Pepe was a great end to the night. By the time I returned to the campsite it was pitch black. With no moon above, the stars ruled the sky.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Big Cities, Small Towns


Comparisons between this ride and the Transamerica Trail will be inevitable over the next two weeks. After day one, the biggest difference between the two is the size of the cities and towns I passed through. My last ride was almost exclusively a ride through rural America. The biggest city I biked through over those two and half months was Pueblo, Colorado with just over 100,000 residents. The smallest towns I biked through today had populations of 80 and 90 thousand.

Today, I spent much of the day escaping the suburbs of Chicago, which push right up to the Illinois-Wisconsin border. Biking through the north shore of Chicago on a Sunday morning was a pleasant start to the trip. On weekend mornings Sheridan Road becomes a thoroughfare for bikers. Several cyclists speeding pass took an interest in my loaded bike. I tried to ignore their disappointment when I told them I had only started about ten miles down the road. I pedaled past the Baha'i Temple, which rises like a mini Taj Mahal in Wilmette, and a Frank Lloyd Wright, which I had never noticed in Highland Park.

The veneer of wealth faded by the time I hit Waukegan, Illinois. I biked through the city earlier this year and sensed that Main Street was a ghost town. The large, historic buildings appeared vacant and dilapidated. This felt familiar to me, a son of Detroit. As I biked through Waukegan today, I saw signs of life downtown. Scores of cars were parked on the street, their drivers attending apostolic services. While there were many boarded up buildings, there were also scenes of beauty and resilience.







Before arriving in the south suburbs of Milwaukee, I passed through downtown Kenosha and Racine. Racine appeared to be bucking the fate of Waukegan and so many other small towns. Its storefronts were rented and shoppers strolled the sidewalks, not all called to the mall lurking on the outskirts of town. A waterfront park houses an active marina. And a Dunn Bros. coffee house (royalty please) makes a tasty iced coffee.


By the time I hit the northern suburbs of Milwaukee, I was exhausted. It was a big first day, a century ride in the full sun with two-loaded panniers. I'm reminded of the aches and pains from two years ago: the numbness in my fingers, the tense shoulders, the tight knee. It should all loosen up in time for my arrival back in Chicago. The day ended on a high note -- a Mexican dinner on the south side with my brother John and his family. After that, I think I'll be ready to set off again tomorrow morning.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

A Simple Plan


It's hard for me to believe that over two years have passed since I rode the TransAmerica Trail from coast to coast. While rarely a day goes by when I don't think of some experience from that trip, some of the memories have dulled and the lessons learned aren't at the ready. One of those lessons -- to seek out new adventures -- has gone unheeded for too long. It's time for another bike tour, albeit on a much smaller scale.

During my cross-country ride I met many bikers along the way, who started their treks by riding down their driveway. The simplicity of that always made me a little jealous. One didn't need to travel far away to begin a new adventure -- one could set off right from the front door. By the time I biked my first few miles of the Transamerica Trail, I had already traveled by plane, train, and bus to get there. My bike and supplies had been shipped and significant effort went into the logistics of a successful start.

My tour of the Third Coast -- around Lake Michigan -- will be far simpler. I'll bike away from my apartment on Montrose Avenue in Chicago tomorrow morning and, if all goes well, I'll bike right back here within two weeks. As I sit here the night before my departure and stare at my two panniers, I wonder if it's all a little too simple. Do I have everything? Did I consider the contingencies? While I'm much closer to home this time around and plan to see some familiar faces along the way -- the Upper Peninsula can be just as desolate as eastern Colorado.

A few words about the blog. Given that this is only a two week trip, I hesitated to even keep a blog. But the truth is, it's a strong motivation. If a string of bad luck and bad weather has me contemplating a bus ride home, public embarrassment will keep me on the road. The motivation isn't all negative. The need to tell some interesting (I hope) tales from my travels will keep me alert as I ride through small towns and on back roads that I would have never otherwise explored. I'll try to post once a day, but I'll always be at the mercy of the wireless network.