Mini-Tour Details

In the previous post I introduced the mini-tour that Jon and I took over four days in late June. Let me tell some of the details.

Jon drove to Okemos (Lansing area) from Ann Arbor, where he had been visiting parents. I drove down from Empire, where I had been working in our store. We converged in Okemos on Friday evening, just as it began to storm. (Good timing that we weren't already on the road.)

We muddled around a bit getting gear rigged up (actually, I muddled, since I hadn't had time to assemble the final trip kit), and got to bed late. I was glad that wives and kids weren't around to watch, because we were a couple of kids again, showing each other neat rigging solutions, admiring each other's bikes.

After the late night, we got a late start, 10:30 or so. We had been intending to stay at Ionia Recreation Area on this first night, but we found out that the campground (at least the campground for humans) was full. The campground for horses was nice and empty, but the State of Michigan prefers to keep sites empty to maintain its equine purity, even when there were bikers waving money and begging to be allowed to camp in the horse campground. "The horse lobby is strong," it was explained to us. We explained that we were "riders" of a sort, but that didn't cut it. No Ionia for us.

So we had a longer than expected day ahead of us, 10 miles farther down the road to the Double RR Resort in Belding. If we had been smart, we would have cut across to Ionia and thence northward to the campground. We weren't smart, so we went all the way up to St Johns and thence across to Fowler. But this involved riding on M-21 (or on a converted "rail-trail", really just a muddy two-track), so we jumped off as soon as we could. North from Fowler to Hubbardston, with its nice dam-falls, and then zig-zagging westward to M-66, finally jumping on to M-44, which took us to Belding. By then, we were pretty tired. Jon was crashing big time, but I think it was mostly a blood sugar bonk rather than true fatigue.

After burgers and chilidogs in Belding, we revived enough to head south to Double RR (or Quadruple R) Resort. A private campground, to be sure, with sites packed close together and full of loud young partiers, but we were glad to find it. There were no standing puddles, there were hot showers, and we got the bikers' rate of $20. With my earplugs, I slept like a baby. We had gone 74 miles this first day: way too much.

We fell right back into our biking routine as soon as we started on the first day, or at least once we got off my home turf. Stopping at every town for orange juice, etc, drafting one mile at a time into the strong head wind, setting up camp, taking showers, hitting the sack in a businesslike way. It was a pleasure to be touring again.

The second day started a little earlier, 8:30 or so. We retraced our steps back to the Belding Burger King, where we had BK breakfast stuff. Not good, but not bad. The coffee was OK. Then we headed off, mostly following the Adventure Cycling North Lakes route. As we found throughout the trip, riding back roads is a joy, worth the effort of finding them. Even worth riding on dirt occasionally, which is inevitable if you're following county maps that don't distinguish between barely paved and not paved roads.

So we rode up Lincoln Lake Rd (which was one of the busier and narrower back roads we took) until it was closed at M-57. We started to follow the detour, but I rebelled. I had a feeling that the detour would take us many miles out of our way, so I insisted we head north into the great unknown. I led us into several dead ends, including a return to the closed road that was (surprise!) still closed. So I lost us a few miles. Once we got onto Podunk Rd (really: Podunk Rd), all was well.

North of Lincoln Lake, we got back on the Adventure Cycling route, which led us through Coral (odd little nothing of a town with a convenience store run by a sourpuss), then west, across the Fred Meijer White Pine Trail Linear State Park (last year's route), past a high school where there was some sort of baseball game going on that we both sort of wanted to stop for, but I didn't dare, not after the late finish of the previous day. So on we went.

We had a couple of jaunts on busy roads, then finally Pear Rd to Hardy Dam, a nice back road with a steep hill. Jon ended up walking up that hill, not because he was giving up and calling it quits (I'm ashamed to say that I feared this), but rather because his chain had broken. Only that? I fixed it in a snap with my emergency chain link. Be prepared, I and the Boy Scouts say.

We bought spaghetti fixings at a covenience store in Hardy Dam, then found our way to Sandy Beach County Park. Ohmygawd what a nice little park, right on the "Hardy Dam Pond". Really just a big field with campsites, but we had our section to ourselves. The shower building was new, the showers were hot, the spaghetti was delicious. We even bought firewood. Early to bed. Miles: 54.

Heavy dew in the morning. We were up early (6:30) and on the road by 7:30. I was a little nervous about the route, because I didn't want to follow the Adventure Cycling route all the way, since it diverted way to the east for some reason. So I recommended that we set off on our own on the back roads, even if it meant dirt ones. In particularly, there was one connecting road south of Idlewild that made a perfect route, avoiding major highways but staying headed in the right direction. But I was sure it was dirt. Five miles of dirt. We decided to go for it.

Walnut Rd was, in fact, dirt, but it was lovely dirt. Smooth, wide, flat. No traffic. One of the nicer roads on the trip. If that was what Adventure Cycling was avoiding, they don't get it. Give me a shorter route on dirt roads than one that winds all over creation simply for the sake of paved roads.

We found our way through Idlewild (startled to discover an apparently mostly black community in the middle of Whiteland), then headed out onto M-37 (briefly) before returning to back roads. Eventually, we arrived at Sand Lake Campground, in Manistee National Forest, a typical national forest campground (woodsy, wide spaces) with one exception: showers! I don't think I've ever been in a national forest campground that had showers. Lovely.

We were going to buy the fixings for making dinner. In fact, we had the cart full of the fixings when we looked at each other and realized that this was probably going to cost more than simply buying dinner at Granny's Cafe next door. So we put everything back and went next door. I had a burger, Jon had meatloaf, which he raved over. Miles this day: 65.

This is one of the new conclusions this trip has brought me to: Unless you're eating Rahmen noodles or canned beef stew, it's usually more expensive to buy ingredients and cook than it is to go to a cheap restaurant. Often, buying and cooking requires you to (a) carry leftovers with you the next day, or (b) throw the leftovers out, since it's hard to buy (economically) enough for only two. We ended up throwing out part of the spaghetti on night 2, which, considering how cheap spaghetti is, wasn't a big problem. But on the spaghetti night we spent $10, and on the restaurant nights we spent about $12-14 and had nothing left over. So from now on I will carry less cooking gear and supplies, and I will assume that cooking will only be simple reheating of canned goods or basic things like spaghetti. Of course I will include the necessary gear for cowboy coffee. (I forgot coffee this trip, so on those mornings when I was up way before Jon, I couldn't make cowboy coffee.)

The fourth day we got an even earlier start even though we didn't have more than 60 miles to ride. It promised to be a hot day, so it was good to get going. Breakfast at Granny's (OK, that slowed us down, but it was worth it), then north on lovely flat back roads through Brethren and Kaleva and the outskirts of Thompsonville. Finally, Honor, a turtle sundae, and two big hills later, we rolled in to Empire. It was still early, 2:00 or so. But it was warming up. (The next day was in the 90s, so we timed it right.) Miles: 60.

Here's what worked particularly well: flip-flops for around camp; buying a bag of ice for icewater at every campground, even though we didn't have a cooler; 38mm tires; ultra lightweight sleeping bag; ear plugs (of course); catfood can stove; odd high handlebars with the extra brake levers (although the super long stem caused a significant, slightly scary shimmy, which can probably be minimized by reducing or eliminating the front load); cotton boxer shorts; no toe clips or straps; Universal maps of Michigan regions; both people having the same maps (on day 2 we didn't, and it caused some tension as I led us astray); fenders for the dirt roads; emergency chain link; Melanzana ultra-lightweight Polartec long-sleeve shirt, which, when soaked in water, made for delightful airconditioning on the hot days; old-fashioned Avocet woman's touring saddle; orange juice at every stop, with an apple or a handful of nuts and raisins, but otherwise relatively little eating during the day; Big Agnes full-length air mattress (comfy comfy).

Mini-Tour, 2009

Jon and I continued the bike touring tradition last week with a tiny
little four-day trip from the Lansing area to the Sleeping Bear Dunes
area, a total of 250 miles. It was the longest trip I could safely
take without making my wife mad at me. (It was probably appropriate to take a shorter trip this summer, anyway, after last summer's fairly long one.)

This one was a good trip. I was a little surprised at how glad I was
to be on the road again. Jon and I have been doing this for a long
time (35 years or so), and it is like putting on a comfortable pair of
shoes to tour with him. Although we are both cantankerous curmudgeons, we have a completely easy rapport with each other on the road.

Perhaps it's because space and time stretch out and slow down that I
find bike tours to be complete escapes from daily life. That puts it a
little strongly; it's not like I need to escape from my daily life.
But a bike tour is a welcome pause in life (or Life, in the large
sense), a chance to reflect and see the world in a different way.
Everything boils down to essentials: How many miles to the next town? How long is the next hill? Where are we going to camp tonight? Is my equipment sound? How hot is it going to be today?

Not very profound questions unless you're riding a bike 65 miles a
day, and then they are the most important questions in the world.
Jon and I talk about many things on these trips, but the bulk of our conversation is about bikes and bike touring. Boring? Probably to our wives and kids, but not to us in the middle of a trip.

Speaking of More Equipment

While I'm on the subject of equipment, two more items:

1. The high drop handlebars on the touring bike are still nice. The thumb shifters mounted right next to the brake levers are really nice, better than bar-ends. I like the way the bars are turned way up to give a flat top and ramp. It's a little odd to have the brakes so far down the curves, but with the supplemental levers on top it works fine.

2. The jury is still out on the Avocet WII touring saddle. It's quite comfortable, and the leather top is nice, but it's not quite as comfortable as the plastic topped version I have on the Rivendell. We'll see what it's like after four 60-mile days.

Finally, I figured out why the Panaracer Pasela tire failed last summer. (It developed a sidewall bulge during our Lake Michigan circumnavigation.) It recently came to me that while I was on a ride last spring, I hit chunk of concrete that gave me a flat tire. At the time, when I examined the tire, I could find no damage, so I kept riding it. But the impact must have damaged the sidewall, which led to the bulge after eight days of loaded riding. So I regret implying that the Pasela was at fault.

Touring Season

This is not worth boasting about, but Jon and I are going on another little tour this month. Rather than a long slog around Lake Michigan, like last summer, we're just going to ride a few hundred miles up Michigan's fourth metacarpal, from the Lansing area to the Sleeping Bear Dunes area. We have allowed ample time, and there are ample campgrounds along the route, so it shouldn't be such a race for time to catch a ferry.

No ferries are involved, in fact, and we have allotted more than enough time. Theoretically we could do it in three days, but we're going to take four really easy days. Probably.

Just for something to do, I have been obsessing about bike and equipment configuration, but really, it doesn't matter for four days if I forget a few things or if the bike isn't loaded exactly right.

I'm going with rear panniers, tent strapped on the back rack between the panniers, sleeping bag on the back right behind the seat. Tool bag hanging from the seat. Small front panniers with a rack trunk on the front rack instead of a handlebar bag. (I'll have pictures.)

And speaking of equipment, I destroyed the old Huret Alvit derailer this week. I put on a nine-speed set of sprockets, the largest being 34 teeth. I was riding on the middle chainwheel and the big rear sprocket, and the chain angle apparently bent the derailer so much that it seized up. My pedaled attempts to free it tore it in half, basically.

Oh well. I had a Shimano 105 on a shelf, so I swapped it in. I assume it will work better than the Alvit ever did. (Although dispite all the trash talk in bike groups about the Alvit, I never had a problem with it. The Alvit was the derailer that caused one discussion group commenter to give up all biking for 10 years, which I thought was hilarious.)