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.