Day 8: Tuesday August 2nd, 2016. North Branch, MI to Marine City, MI. 76.2 miles.
By Judd Curran.Overnight, the temperature dropped to the dew point (it only took a few degrees to reach saturation, as the humidity has been high throughout our trip) at Sutter's Campground (pronounced, "Suiters" by the owner), leaving our tent fly, bike, towels, and other items saturated. It took us a few hours of moving wet materials into the sun and rotating stuff around to dry out before we were ready to pedal on.
The campground was occupied mostly by "seasonal" residents, those with their trailers and motor homes that have setup camp for the Summer. Things were quiet, except for the morning walkers, rounding the loop, with one gal speaking to the other two about her dog, the troubles she has had with the valve on her propane tank, and the pesky hangnail that just keeps coming back. Her voice outpaced the Doppler effect, sound diminishing with distance, or any other possible dampening effect. Regardless of whether they were at the far end of the loop or right out in front of our site, everything could be heard with crisp clarity. It provided us with fun entertainment while watching our rain fly dry.
Paranoid about the thought of continuing to drink the water in our bike water bottles filled up at the campground faucet, we decided to water the landscaping outside the local gas station in North Branch before refilling our supply with water purchased at the convenience store.
The town had lots of charm and character, with interesting architecture throughout.
Victoria really gets excited when spotting a great old craftsman or colonial-style home, often telling me to be sure and get a photo for the blog. This happens often.
Opting to hold out for a meal until we put in a good 15 miles, we push on to Brown City, population 1,325. The temperature was warm already, and the humidity added to the overall thirst for shade. It felt like the surrounding corn, soybean, and sugar beets, with their lack of stature to provide shade and their incessant sucking of water from the ground, only to release some of it to the atmosphere, contributed to our sweating.
Look! Another cool, old farmhouse made of brick. I gladly took a picture while shaded by a single maple tree.
Another excuse to stop -- a half-round Quonset-hut-style home with a lower half made of rocks, presumably cleared from the nearby fields in preparation for the first plantings in the surrounding soil.
Our interest in stopping at this place to take a photo was as much a response to our sight as it was to the call of roosters that seemed to be right in front of us, even though we did not see them in the yard. Upon closer inspection, we found them.
But, setting a precedent from this point forward, we decided that we would only stop in shaded locations when possible. The day was heating up, and a heat-spell was forecasted for the next few days.
Being surrounded by large-scale agriculture operations, we commonly felt the rumbling of large equipment passing by. Almost every car or tractor driver was extra-cautious when passing us, taking the other lane, and waiting for oncoming cars to pass before proceeding.
There are numerous Amish settlements in the area, and we were often reminded of their presence in one way or another.
As we entered Brown City, apparently the birthplace of the motor home, we were hungry and ready for some small-town cooking.
We found a very small establishment called, "Ginger's Cafe" right in the heart of town, on Main Street of course.
Inside, we were quickly greeted by Ginger herself, her husband busy cooking up food in the kitchen. "Sit wherever you like", she said. Within a minute sat down at our table, letting out a big sigh of relief to get off her feet for a moment, and chatted about our bicycle trip while taking our drink order.
The walls of the small eatery were well-utilized, filled with slogans, sayings, and cliches reminding me of one of our favorite hometown eateries, The Big Kitchen. This was, however, the right-wing conservative version.
Ginger joined us at the table again to take our order, this time telling us about the specials, and her story. When her husband retired, they decided to open the cafe as a fun way to keep busy and stay connected with their community, as well as to supplement their modest retirement income. Little did they know, keeping the cafe open 5 days per week meant spending all day Saturdays shopping for supplies, giving the two of them only one day of rest out of seven. Five years later, they're still ready to retire, but depend on the income to make ends meet.
We had a delicious meal, followed by homemade cherry pie a la mode. Ginger filled our bike bottles with ice water and we pedaled East.
Fifteen miles later, and hot, we came to the town of Yale, with a population just under 2,000, still had the banner announcing the annual bologna festival from the prior weekend. Darn, we missed it!
Better than the bologna festival, we opted for the old-time A&W root beer establishment looking for something (and somewhere) to cool off for a bit.
It was cold inside, and the town of Yale knew it, as the place was packed. I slurped down the seasonal peach shake with delicious chunks of peaches in it while Victoria had the traditional root beer float.
A few miles out of Yale, we decided to take a slight deviation from our route to connect up with the Wadhams to Avoca rail trail, a train line converted into bike path connecting two small towns. The Adventure Cycling route we had been following didn't connect us to this trail until further down the road. Our shortcut meant that we would be on the trail for the next 12 miles, avoiding a longer section of 2-lane country road.
Initially, the trail was not paved. A common practice for rail trails, the surface of this path was crushed limestone. It creates a smooth surface to ride on, but is often dusty in dry conditions and muddy when wet. In our case, the trail left a dusty coating on our bikes and gear that added to the dirt from the morning campground exit.
But, the benefit of being on a quiet trail, absent of cars, with plentiful shade far outweighed any inconvenience caused by dust. To traverse across Mill Creek, the railroad built a large wooden trestle. This expansive bridge is now the highlight of the trail in these parts.
From the bridge, great views were had of the surrounding forest and creek ravine, worthy of standing in the sun to get the shot.
Our plan for the latter part of the day was to head into the border city of St. Clair to find some lodging. But, we received a reply from a Warmshowers.org host named Cheryl in a town a bit further down the road in Marine City, indicating that we could stay for a night. Despite our already long day, we pushed on to make it to Cheryl's place.
Through St. Claire, we were reminded about our proximity to the international border and where our path would lead us next as we crossed Interstate 94.
It was getting late, and although tired, we pedaled with persistence to make it to our host before dark. It can be an uncomfortable situation to arrive late to the home of a host that is already going out of their way for you. Still in St. Clair, I heard a call from behind me. Victoria hit some roadside debris that punctured her tire. Thirty minutes later and a new tube installed, we were back in motion. We were happy that another section of bike path was ahead of us between St. Clair and Marine City. But, the path was in such disrepair, with gaps, tree roots, uneven transitions to sidewalks, and heaved utility boxes, that we quickly abandoned it for the smoother adjacent city streets.
As we approached Marine City, we passed a massive coal-fired power plant in operation. The plant was so large that mountains of coal being moved around by bull dozers could be seen on both sides of the 4-lane roadway, and a permanent bridge structure contained a conveyor belt to feed the belching beast to try and keep up with it's insatiable appetite.
Finally, at around 9:12 pm, at dusk, we arrived at "The Little Bar", a very cool local hangout with a brand new patio. We didn't arrive here for the food primarily. Cheryl, the owner of the bar, also lived in the deluxe renovated apartment upstairs. She was our gracious host for the night.
Cheryl was waiting for us in the parking lot when we arrived. She greeted us with a smile, showed us where to lock up our bikes, and rushed into the kitchen of the bar to get whatever food was still available as her staff was cleaning up for the night.
She came back with a large container of shrimp and artichoke heart pasta and a bag full of warm garlic and butter dinner rolls. She then got us acquainted with her apartment and showed us to our guest room, complete with a brand new bed and gorgeously redecorated surroundings. She then rushed back downstairs to finish closing up the bar while Victoria and I were able to shower, eat dinner, and get comfortable in Cheryl's home.
After closing up the bar, Cheryl joined us in her living room for wonderful conversation about travel cycling, careers, life, and being a restaurant owner. Cheryl is looking forward to retirement and starting a journey of her own with a motor home, free and unencumbered from the ownership responsibilities of a home and business, she has a clear vision of her goals moving forward, and she's very close to making the leap into her journey. In the mean time, Cheryl opens her home and heart to others on cycling journeys, providing food, a shower, and a comfortable and safe place to rest.
When she's not at the bar, in the Summer you can bet Cheryl will be floating in the St Clair river with friends. The river is a big part of her current journey through life.
Victoria and I were so overwhelmed with the generosity and kindness that surrounded us while being hosted by Cheryl that we forgot about the grueling heat of the day, the 76 miles of riding, or anything related to cycling that day. Our day was made by the hand that reached out to us, welcoming us to Marine City.
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