Ride Report - Foggy Foreign Lands

Day 26 - July 24 - McGregor (IA) to Tomahawk Lake (WI)

Making the transition from solo to companion and back to solo can be bumpy for me. I watch as ease and companionship disappear in the side mirror and I feel the pang of separation. Fortunately on this warm, sunny day, the transition is tempered by a spirited ride up the west bank of my favourite waterway, the Mississippi. Having grown up in the interior of British Columbia in close proximity to Kootenay Lake and Columbia River has given me a special affinity for powerful, moving water, both as soothing and as an incontrovertible force, with the potential for destruction and renewal.

Leaving the river behind, I swing north east allowing the GPS guide a 'non-motorway' route through beautiful Wisconsin countryside. My ultimate destination is Copper Harbour, a sizeable peninsula arcing from the Michigan shores toward the belly of Lake Superior. Copper Harbour was a hearty recommendation from Dave at Green Acres Motel back in Spooner, WI (think mirrored hotel room ceiling). He was even so thoughtful as to print out several pages of Google maps highlighting the attractions of the area, including breathtaking views from high atop Brockway Mountain Drive, historic coal mine tours and Isle Royal National Park.

A mid afternoon break has me taking a quick nap in a park (Napping... a precious childhood skill I am learning to reengage on the road) and a snack / coffee break at a Wisconsin cheese shop where even hats come cheese style.

 

Now, letting the GPS navigate without consulting a map is 'easy' but sometimes ill-advised. I had, I thought, set my sights on a State park two thirds the way to Copper Harbour. Blissfully following the GPS, I instead end up in a town many miles off track of my goal with the sun low in the horizon and my body calling for dinner and rest. Sharpening my 'just ride and trust' skills, I wander north in search of a campsite. I stop at the first likely prospect to discover there is an available site but the manager wants to charge me the full RV service fee (which is 50% more than the usual unserviced tent fee) despite my attempts to explain my tiny tent and minimal power/water needs. He makes it clear there is no room to negotiate and it's too late in the evening for me to keep looking so I relent, annoyed but polite. It's true $20 vs $30 isn't a huge deal, yet if your plan is to travel for many months and on a fixed budget paying 40-50% more for accommodations would definitely add up over time.

After answering a few questions about my trip, the manager warms to me and brings firewood, more than I could use in a night, I suspect he was feeling a little bad about being so rigid about the fee. Food in my belly always improves my outlook and so I wine and dine by campfire light before bed.

In the morning, I greet the manager warmly and my suspicions are confirmed as to my surprise he hands me back a tenner with a sheepish smile and comment about having had a bad day. Even though this, like so many on the road, is a one time connection I am happy to move on from the campsite with a sense of it having been repaired.

Day 27 - July 25 - Tomahawk Lake (WI) to Copper Harbour (WI)

With a clear destination in sight, I once again allow the GPS to lead me off the beaten track and relax on random scenic secondary highways and side roads. Another afternoon break has me checking out Bond Falls (Michigan). A truly impressive series of falls with the main one 100 feet wide cascading 40 feet.

 

I plan to spend a couple days exploring the Copper Harbour peninsula so I peruse maps and consult with Parks staff mid-day to pick a place to setup a home base. Following their advice and highway signs, I strike out on gravel side roads in search of Alice Lake Recreation Site. My spirits are damped by rain and the absence of any further signage. I can't find the recreation campsite. After an hour or so of guessing a general north easterly direction, I give up frustrated and direct the GPS to take me back to civilization, the town of Copper Harbour.

Arriving at Fort Wilkins State Park just east of Copper Harbour, I am troubled to find out the Park fee paid at the falls doesn't cover this park. To camp I would need to repay the daily park fee on top of the camping fee. Again this seems trivial, but the extra cost frustrates me and this whole 'finding accommodation' alone at the end of the day is my achilles heel. Empathizing with my dismay, the Park Ranger kindly shares that I can find free camping farther out at the end of the peninsula and while the road can be rough, glancing at my bike she estimates it shouldn't be a problem.

Directions in hand and buoyed by the thought of exploring a dirt road, I head out past the pavement. The rain I had caught earlier in the day was the tail end of a sizeable storm that had drenched the peninsula. The road, with some manageable washouts, has some potholed, slick muddy sections that challenged my riding skills and is at the limit of what I'd attempt solo and fully loaded.

(For the record, these pictures are not the "tricky" sections. When things get exciting, I'd love to stop and get the camera out but I'd love even more to keep the bike upright!)

The rain had also brought out voracious mosquitos and soaked anything resembling a roadside campsite. With that and the isolation of the area, I go as far as I dare (~6 miles) and decide to backtrack to town in search of warm, dry (indoor) accommodations.

This one of those days where plans did not quite go as I intended; the weather is challenging and I am once again struggling to find a place to call home for the night. There is some element of comfort and security that I require. Some certainty that without it, I fill with self doubt and frustration.

While being in the midst of struggle may be uncomfortable to experience (or uncomfortable to read), it is part of why I am here. Even in the throws of my inner critic and self doubt, a deeper, wiser part of me has utter faith that this is a situation to be embraced, not resisted. Challenging my comfort zones and stretching boundaries is where I learn. If I wanted it easy I would have stayed home. But I didn't. I am here. I am thousands of miles from my comfortable, familiar life to lean into the discomfort and learn to find safety and ease in uncertainty.

And tonight, I do. I feel invigorated by the challenging, muddy ride having tested my skills and won. I loosen my grip on disappointment and self critizism and find a charming little cabin and dinner in a pub across the way. I chat with Mike, a fellow dual sport rider, have beers with locals at the microbrewery and connect with a friend from home. It feels good to be reminded I am not alone and the "up and down" day rounds out on a distinct "up" note.

Day 28 - July 26 - Copper Harbour to Hancock (MI)

I forgo worrying about the dent in my accommmodation budget and enjoy the comforts of a warm cabin, borrowed blowdryer** and wifi while waiting for the morning fog in the harbour town to clear. I do need to find more modest accommodations for the duration of my stay on the peninsula and so with a little research, I confirm the charming town of Hancock midway down the peninsula has a municipal campsite for a whopping $14/night. Sweet!

** silly fact... blowdryers on the road are a distinct luxury. I don't carry one on the bike and don't like to don a helmet with wet hair so being able to wash AND dry my hair in the morning before I depart is a simple and rarified pleasure.

Following local knowledge gleaned over beers the previous night, I seek out Brockway Mountain Road for what promises to be twisty roads and stunning views of the harbour and Lake Superior.

Well... like any good coastal road...

Regardless, I thoroughly enjoy the at times one lane, constantly twisting, steep mountain road (rare in these parts). I make my way south where a love of storms and lighthouses is indulged in Eagle Harbour. To my suprise my new freind Mike rolls in to the parking lot shortly after me having seen the yellow and white DR cruise through town. Despite his friendly, kind demenour I can't quite muster the courage to take him up on his offer to stay at his family cabin. (Conservitism that I'd later chastize).

Tempted by tours and more sightseeing, the rain keeps me moving and I arrive at the Hancock Municipal Campground late afternoon. The forecast says the rain and cold should abate in a day or so which will make my trek east more enjoyable.. So I spend a little extra time setting up a rain savvy 'home' and settle in for a few days of hanging out and exploring.

 

This day also marks the end of my fourth week on the road. It's hard to believe that I left Vancouver 28 days ago with a plan to ride to Alaska and instead have meandered east through nine states, two provinces and 5,000 miles, lit a spark of romance and shifted my sights to another dream riding destination, Nova Scotia. Eighteen of those twenty-eight nights were spent camping and mostly cooking my own food with the other nights spent in homes of friends and various b&bs, hotels, motels and cabins. There has been a total of six days stationary and fourteen days solo. I have seen deer and buffalo, open grassy plains and forested estuaries; ridden in everything from roasting +100F to thunderstorms complete with lightening and hail; from semi-truck laden interstates to high mountain passes with views that steal ones heart and breath in the same moment.

I am far enough away from home to have the daily routine of work/city life fade giving way to a new rhythm of movement and discovery. There is a distilling of life on a motorcycle that necessitates simplicity. Freed from familiar routine, I feel both blessed and burdened with abundant time, endless choices and no commitments beyond what I make for myself. This is a foreign land indeed.

I lament the point of it all. What am I doing? What am I hoping to accomplish? What if I finish my 4 months sabbattical and nothing has changed? I worry this time will be wasted.

I marvel the point of it all. I have longed for this opportunity for as long as I can remember and some unknown combinaton of providence, hard work, blind intentions have manifested this crazy adventure for me; full of uncertainty, spaciousness, isolation, community. I feel a push, some drive to keep moving every day. I'm not quite sure why, so I make the choice to, with curiosity and wonder, marvel in this foreign land.

 

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Getting Grounded in New Mexico

I arrived in New Mexico to the hospitality of a good friend on September 7. The ride west from Tennessee to New Mexico was akin to a voluntary 'forced march', one that I'll write more about later. The short story is that my desire to be still and settled with some creature comforts out wrestled my gypsy nature and I gladly pushed west through Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma and a bit of Texas in a matter of days. I'm sure I missed much of the unique charm each state has to offer, but my reward was more than worth it!

 

I spent the next few days with my New Mexico host and friend, Craig, before my Mom arrived, flying in from British Columbia to Albuquerque on September 12. Mom and I spent the subsequent week exploring the ABQ and Santa Fe areas, soaking up the rich southwest Spanish, Mexican and Aboriginal culture and history. Sadly returning my Mom and our snazzy rental car to the airport - just to be clear, I was much more sad about returning my Mom! - I returned to the comfort of my interim New Mexico 'home'.

 

With some resistance from my 'busy-making, accomplishment driven' self, I have spent the last week entertaining myself catching up on 'Orange is the New Black' (oh ya Netflix!), reading, playing with Leo the Chow, being happily domestic and on evenings and weekends, thankfully, two-wheel exploring the spectacular red rock countryside of western NM and eastern Arizona with Craig.

 

Now that I've caught-up on being lazy, I am ready to be more productive and do some much needed bike and blog maintenance. There is the not-so-minor fact that I need to be returning to Vancouver for the end of October.... something about going back to work.. (somebody tell me what that's all about ?! )

 

So there, I've 'caught up' on the 'quick post' and now can delve into capturing some of the countless entertaining stories and fun photos that lurk between the lines!

 

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Quickie in Tennessee

I decided I'll do more frequent 'quick' posts to keep current on my where abouts. Full blown ride reports will continue as time allows.

In the week since landing back in Albany and reuniting with the bike, I have ridden south west mixing up interstate with scenic highways. A few highlights have been....

->Iron Blast Furnaces, farmers market, generous people of historic Scranton, Pennsylvania (PA)

-> sobering, enlightening horseback ride through the battlefields of Gettysburg, PA

-> the breathtakingly beautiful Skyline Drive through Shenandoah State Park, Virginia...100 miles of motorcycle road heaven!

-> continuing the motorcycle riding heaven down 100 miles of the famed (in some circles) Blue Ridge Parkway.... yes, this is where my motorcycle was lovingly mauled by a bear at 1 am... everyone was a'ok.. well, except for my sleepless night

As I write this in the McD's in Kingport, TN while a harley dude chats my ear off. When I'm done breakfast I head west west west toward New Mexico. I am meeting up with my Mom in Albuquerque next week to spend a week (in a car!) touring her favourite NM haunts.

Peace

Jen

 

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She's Alive!

It can't possibly be 5 weeks since my last blog post. GAK! Oh my, how times files!

In response to some loving feedback that there are people 'out there' who are following along and wondering what the heck has become of me... I report that I am happy, healthy and after a short 'vacation' am heading back on the road!

The Readers Digest update would be that I continued to ride through north eastern states and eastern provinces until I reached my coveted destination, the most easterly point of Nova Scotia. After taking time to acknowledging the significance of my journey, both outterly, geographically, and innerly, emotionally/spiritually, I began my trek westward on the second week of August. I rode as far as Albany where I stored my bike and flew home for 2 weeks, spending most of that time with my 17 year old niece on our own Pacific North West road trip (in a car!).

At this moment, I am enroute back to Albany, NY excited to reunite with the bike and the simplicity of life on the road. The first 40 days accomplished many things including transporting me as far as I could be from the life I created for myself in Vancouver providing me with longed for space, clarity and perspective. This time has helped me slow down and hear the quieter voice within me that calls me to live joyfully and in love with the world. While the commitments we make outside ourselves are important, I am learning to make sure that those "yes"'s are in service to others as well as in tune with my heart song.

What's next? Well, it doesn't feel quite time to 'turn for home' and my life in Vancouver just yet, so I will head southward and westward toward a whole new array of adventures!

Thats all for now... much warmth and gratitude for all the support I've received on my journey and may you all be as equally blessed on your paths.

Jen

ps. and YES, I will catch the blog up on all the adventures that have taken place between then and now. I have enjoyed writing but it was starting to feel a bit narcissistic which contributed the decline in posts. I have been reassured that the blog is being enjoyed (and possibly even anticipated) by many and so I will happily continue the sharing my journey!

 

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UnRide Report - stationary on a moving river

Days 23 to 25 - July 21-23 - Spooner (WI) to Prairie du Chien (WI) and McGregor (IA)

True journeys have lives of their own, like rivers; always moving, thunderously or gently, on a natural, inevitable course; influenced by unseen forces, carrying debris to be deposited elsewhere, smoothing rough edges along the way. If we let them they will shape and transport us in ways we'd never experience from the shore.

Sometimes I"m a slower learner, but it is coming to me that I do not have to be "on the road" "making miles" to be on this particular journey. Every once in a while I recognize the need for time off the road. To hang out in a back eddy taking time to explore vs ride through the places this river takes me. So when the chance arises to spend more time with my riding mate from Yellowstone days, it is the perfect opportunity to be stationary.

Craig and I spent the beginning part of my trip together riding and exploring Grand Teton, Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks and up into Alberta. We mused that this week long "second date" might be hard to top. We shared easy laughter, great conversations, smooth transitions between road and camping, open and frank discussions about destinations and routes and a special comfort and playfulness that is not so easily found. When it became possible to cross paths again we were both keen for a 'third date'.

The consensus is to choose a spot and stay put for a few days to spend more time hanging out together vs on our respective bikes. My time being more open, we chose a rendezvous point on his route home and with a name that amuses me...Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin. Who doesn't want to visit "Prairie Dog" en Francés ??

A moderately long highway day is made more interesting by the promise of heavy rain. I even hide out in a McD's for a couple hours trying to avoid the worst of it. Truth is I don't really mind riding in the rain. As long as it's not overly cold then I'm good to go. Gortex, fleece layer, ski gloves and "waterproof socks" (aka bread bags gleaned from Karl's recycling) donned, I head down the highway.

By the time I arrive in PdC, a muggy sun is making a sauna of all my soggy layers! Happily shedding gear, I greet my off-the-road mate and we start the search for a 'home base' campground. I'd seen an amusing billboard for Spook Cave Campground located across the Mississippi in Iowa and so we head a little more west. The campground is immaculate and scenic with its star attraction being a boat tour in caves that go a mile or so into the mountain. (which we heard was great, but unfortunately didn't manage to catch)

Yes, the Mississippi River !! I have the pleasure of her company once again. Only now she is a wide, powerful wildlife and transportation corridor, not the meandering brook I met in northern Minnesota.

We enjoy touristing in McGregor, IA and Prairie du Chien, WI including a proper 'dinner and movie' date, wandering around the historic town of McGregor and a Mississippi river boat tour with a fantastic guide, Captain Robert Vavra, who has made his living on the river most of his life.

http://www.maidenvoyagetours.com/index.htm

Bob is a passionate, wealth of knowledge and we learn all kinds of interesting facts about life in and on the river (including but definitely not limited to)...

-> normally the bird watching is exceptional but because of a recent mayfly hatch there are very few birds around the afternoon of our tour. The suspicion is that they are sleeping of the feast, much like us after thanksgiving turkey dinner.

-> there was a high-end supper club and resort in the 50s (?) on one of the islands which operating into the 70s. The hydro tower can be seen in the first photo. There are still private cottages on the islands that dot the river.

-> there was a prolific and lucrative button industry on the Mississippi in the late 1800s making Iowa the "button capital of the world" for a time. The picture below shows where button "blanks" were punched out of mussel shells and then fashioned into world class 'mother of pearl' buttons. The river also spawned a cultured pearl industry as well as manufactured 'pearl' buttons made from square 'blanks' tumbled into round 'pearl' buttons. http://www.iptv.org/iowapathways/mypath.cfm?ounid=ob_000031

He also quoted staggering stats on the commercial shipping traffic and commodities on the river as well as her impact on building codes causing houses to be built on stilts well above the highest flood mark.

 

An impressive lady indeed!

Alter a few enjoyable days of playing tourist together, the journey swell is urging us to once again step into the river's flow. Craig is moving along south west toward home in New Mexico and me returning north and then east into the unknown. A memorable third date indeed and like any good journey, one must just follow the flow and see where it leads.

 

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