Blog #7: July 11-July 14 - Naubinway, MI to Midland, MI

Stats:

• Distance traveled since last blog: 252

• Distance ridden to date: 2632

• Approximate distance home: 850 miles

• % of the way home: 75%

• Number of flat tires since last blog: 1 (more below)

Josh and Carl’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Paul Simon once wrote and sang “Michigan seems like a dream to me now.” Well, earlier this week, Michigan seemed like a nightmare to me and Josh. Our repair-free charmed life came to an end on Monday as we rode along Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. On our right were beautiful vistas of waves crashing on the northern shores of Lake Michigan. But, unfortunately, our attention was diverted by the heavy traffic on Route 2 to our left and to the poorly maintained shoulder underneath us. Josh pulled up and gave me the bad news: he had a flat tire – our first through our combined 4,800 miles.

We found the culprit. A wire of some sort – maybe from a blown out car tire – made it into Josh’s back tire. We replaced the tube and pumped it to an adequate pressure (about 4 times the PSI that Tom Brady prefers with his footballs). It only took about 500 pumps! However, it turns out our pump has a flaw. When removing it from the inflated tire, it takes with it the valve that keeps the air in the tube. So, unlike first gear (see previous blog), which answered when finally called upon a few days earlier, our pump, which had enjoyed a free 2400-mile ride, was totally unprepared. Thankfully, my clever son figured out a way to keep the valve in place when removing the pump, so after about an hour we were good to go. However, as we were setting out, Josh dropped and cracked his phone.

The next day, Josh discovered brake problems on his bike, which he repaired through trial and error, causing further delay. A few hours later while riding on a bike trail, he rode into a pole meant to prevent cars from entering. Apparently he was doing an Instagram post at the time, but I don’t imagine that had anything to do with it! I was in front of him for a change and so I didn’t see it but I’m pretty sure it was the pole’s fault. (NBA fans: while the pole had established its position, it was clearly in the restricted area!) We’re lucky Josh was just banged up. However, the front fork of his bike was bent in the altercation. (It’s rideable but we’re hoping to get that addressed along the way home.) When it rains it pours. Oh, by the way rain, in between all those bike mishaps we encountered about the most intense downpour and lightning storm I’ve ever ridden through as we hurried to our motel in Indian River, Michigan.

I know what you’re thinking – thank goodness these guys are relentless, resilient and poised, and that they’ve got each other to lean on! That’s what got them to Michigan, over the Cascades, and the Rockies, through the windy plains and the unforgiving 80-mile-a-day schedule. Surely they’ll rise to the occasion again!

Actually, not so much. Without going into the details, this string of setbacks six weeks into our trip didn’t bring out the best in us. We were cranky, frazzled and off our game. Not even the surprising Mackinac Island – which is sort of equal parts Newport, Rhode Island and Nantucket – which we passed through by ferry to get to Michigan’s mainland, cheered us up. In fact, we were annoyed by its quaintness and cheerful tourist visitors.

There’s every reason to believe that this string of misfortune – of the first world variety – will be the exception to the rule, the kind that we’ll laugh about soon enough. In fact, it would be hard to imagine such an adventure without at least this kind of thing. Our new friend Ed Rodriguez and my longtime friend Paul Fallon, an around-the-country cyclist, were both sent home after being taken out by motor vehicles. So we’ll consider ourselves very lucky if the 36 hours described here are the worst of it.

Why We Ride

Despite our recent setbacks, we remain motivated to ride on. Seeing the country (and Ontario in a few days) and completing what we started are big parts of it. So too is our commitment to ending homelessness, towards which we have raised about $14,000 so far.

In addition to the money we’ve raised, there are a few things about this trip that have connected us to the cause. The first is that traveling by bike to a different and unfamiliar destination every day has heightened our appreciation for safe places to stay. The end of our days, when we’re tired and hungry, is usually the most stressful of the day. Where will we stay? Will it rain tonight? Is there a pleasant motel or a safe place to camp? Where can we get dinner? We have the resources we need and we can get ourselves into anything money can buy. But even so and even though it’s always worked out fine, we are relieved each time we settle in for the night. We’ve tried to make sure we appreciate that.

The other night when we finally came in from out of the deluge and lightning to our motel in Indian River, I was quite overcome by a feeling of good fortune. I lay in bed that night listening to the rain and thunder outside with the deepest feeling of gratitude. The next night I felt the same sense of security and good fortune as a light rain fell on and rolled off our excellent $400 3-person tent at Higgins Lake State Park. At those moments I feel so strongly that everyone deserves a home.

That includes the 60-year-old woman I met at the Midland, Michigan laundry mat this morning. (I was there washing all the clothes drenched in the previously described downpour.) She asked what I was writing about while waiting for my clothes to dry. I told her about our cycling adventure and the fact that we were doing it to raise money to end homelessness. She was visibly touched by that and proceeded to tell me part of her story. She’s a tenant in a substandard apartment. Her landlord sold the apartment building and she’s convinced the new owner is going to raise the rent and force her out. In the meantime, he refuses to maintain her apartment and the building. She was a nurse but had to give that up because she developed an immune deficiency. She’s now living hand-to-mouth on a janitor’s salary. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she told me, as she teared up. She embraced me as I left with my now-clean laundry. “Thank you for doing what you’re doing,” she said.

That’s why we ride.

Random Reflections

• Josh and I have agreed that we’ll wait until a month or so after the trip to discuss whether we’ll do any more long distance touring. I think that’s wise. However, if we do or if I do so with Beth or anyone else I have kind of a cool idea. Let me know what you think. Ok, fly to and ship our bikes to spot in the middle of the country, say Kansas City, MO (aka “the Paris of the Plains”) and every day go in whatever direction the wind is blowing! When your vacation time runs out or you end up at one of the coasts, end the trip and fly home. Let me know if you’re interested in joining that trip! I’m thinking about something similar with hills – you know, wake up every morning and go in whatever direction is downhill, but I still need to work on that one.

• People in this great country seem to spend a lot of time cutting their grass. They also often seem to do so about a week earlier than necessary and with equipment that seems to be, shall we say, overqualified – even if they had waited a week longer.

• Something has struck me about places and buildings in the upper midwest. As you’ve seen from my photos and read in my text, the scenery has been beautiful. Call me a snob but the towns and small cities, on the other hand, have felt unwelcoming and visually unappealing. This partly reflects the lack of prosperity in some of these places, but I think it’s more than that. Whatever the reason, I have a proposal, the kind that a know-it-all coastal elite (and one of the urban planning variety, in particular) would come up with. How about young people thinking about careers in taxidermy (see previous blog) be incentivized, through tuition subsidies or whatever, to study architecture or urban design instead. The taxidermy market out here is glutted and the walls of the architecturally unappealing restaurants and other public establishments are already filled with elk and bison heads. Everybody would win!

Waves along the northern shore of Lake Michigan.

Waiting for the ferry at Mackinaw Island.

Our shelter from the storm at Indian River, MI.

Our campsite at Higgins Lake State Park.

The laundry mat in Midland, MI.

An example of upper midwestern architecture. I bet there’s a stuffed elk head on one of the walls.