95: anticipation, this bike saved my life, happy water, escaping horse, alleyfighters find peace, followed, just drive under, our only hope, wildfires, 27 acres of kitsch, holz brücke, oldest microbrewery, great van fleet, believing in santa again

July 31, 2025

Otter Lake to Bridgeport

Upon awakening at 8:00, I felt no hurry to start riding, no rush to beat the heat. So, I lounged languidly in my tent listening to the killdeer gossip, flirt, scold, and challenge each other.

Plus, it’s 62 degrees, just about the perfect sleeping temperature and staying-in-your-sleeping-bag temperature.

This, to pique your interest: I think you're going to be very excited when you read about tonight's lodgings. Having slept in quite a variety of places, this one is magical, a place I never thought I'd have the opportunity to see, much less stay in.

Of course, it's possible that your definition of magical might be different than mine.

another way to tell us that we need to yield to everyone else

I never looked at this plant up close...

...it's interesting, and more delicate than I realized.

Craig rolled up behind me and we chatted a few minutes. At one point he told me, “This bike saved my life.” When his sister died, he realized that he needed to change his lifestyle or he’d soon be following her. Since then he’s been riding or kayaking every day. Craig, like all Michiganders I’ve met, loves his home state for its natural beauty and all of the available outdoor activities. Ultimately, he said, “Well, I won’t keep you,” as if he were preventing me from attending Cinderella’s Ball, then sped off ahead.

I hope this isn't symbolic, or prognostic.

Here's something I never thought I'd see. The lion and the lamb laying down together.

Don't look now, but I think this guy might be following me around the country.

I didn't even realize he was running. And, something else I didn't know: Obi-Wan Kenobi was his running mate.

The wildfires in Canada are making it hazy. Fortunately, my breathing hasn't been affected, and I've hardly coughed up any blood today.

There are several Points of Interest in Frankenmuth, and that doesn’t even include the town’s name (etymology: "courage of the Franconians").

It's mostly famous for Bronner's, the World’s Largest Christmas Store (that’s right: the WORLD’S largest, because that’s what I do). Bronner’s has more than 27 ACRES of Christmas kitsch you can buy 361 days a year. Been wanting a Santa keychain that farts when you squeeze it? Unable to find that Toilet Paper Christmas ornament? Creepy Clown Santas? Mrs. Claus doll wearing lingerie? You came to the right place. I didn’t go because I’d rather wrestle another alligator than bump elbows with hundreds of overweight tourists looking for a snowman with inflatable boobs or biblical character action figures.

Rich Fraser called me out in the comments section above about not going to Bronner’s, and instead of replying there I’m adding it to the blog. This is my response:

You see, I love you and all the CycleBlazers reading this, but there are some places that even I can’t go. Entering that vortex of apex capitalism and kitsch, I would return soulless, humorless, glassy-eyed, and 75 pounds overweight, with an armful of Santa bobbleheads and red, white, and blue thongs (both kinds), a shadow of my former self.

I’ve gazed into the heart of Aileen Wuornos, I was nearly lost to the Sugar Sand in Florida, my soul was almost stolen by a mask I found on the side of the road, I’ve pedaled in North Carolina… I’ve seen risk.

But this? This is a bridge too far. I would return as a human sarcophagus. Someone would have to buy me a puppy, and even that might not work.

I looked for, but never saw, the PedAle Trolley, a pedal-powered vehicle that accommodates up to 16 passengers. Depending on the tour, it sometimes has a bartender to serve drinks.

The Frankenmuth Woolen Mill is Michigan's oldest continuously operating woolen mill, and the winner for the most creative name.

Frankenmuth is sometimes called "Little Bavaria," and I expected there to be a lot of people wearing lederhosen. There were, but not as many as I anticipated.

Now you're getting an idea of what the town is like.

This wooden bridge has a sign telling us its name: it's called Holz Brücke, which translates to "wooden bridge." Because this is Frankenmuth, a "tourist friendly" town.

The first actual Point of Interest in Touristown USA is the Frankenmuth Brewery. It's America's oldest microbrewery, founded in 1862, surprisingly, right here in Frankenmuth. This was before a brewery needed a creative name like Evil Genius Brewing Company or Clown Shoes Beer Company. And before they needed a gimmick, such as making beer from beard yeast. Just plain and simple “Frankenmuth Brewery” will suffice, thank you very much. It survived floods, tornadoes, and seven years of closure before reopening in 2009. The brews on tap also have simple names such as "Munich Style Dunkel," "Old Detroit Amber Ale," and "Red Sky Irish Ale."

I ordered their signature beer, but didn't see a signature anywhere on it.

Point of Interest Number Two: Greta Van Fleet, an internationally famous rock band, is from this tiny town of 5,000. Josh, Jake, and Sam Kiszka (siblings) and Danny Wagner were raised here. They've topped the Billboard charts several times, and have won a number of awards in the Rock & Roll genre. Sir Elton John said they're the best Rock & Roll band to come along in a long time ("but they need to dress flashier"), and asked them to perform at his annual Academy Awards Viewing Party (a benefit for the Elton John AIDS Foundation).

I listened to one song, When the Curtain Falls, and the lead singer, Josh Kiszka, sounds exactly like Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. Sometimes more so, in fact, than Robert Plant. So, if you like the genre, check it out.

Of note, the name of the band was a last-second decision when scrambling to come up with something for a local festival performance. The original drummer heard his grandfather say he had to go cut some wood for Gretna Van Fleet, so they just took out the "N" and used her name. Although she prefers classical music, the elderly Gretna eventually attended one of the band's shows and blessed their use of her name.

About tonight's accommodations.....

I mentioned previously about how I’ve never seen a one-star motel. You just can't find them on google maps. Even The Scoot Inn where Aileen Wuornos stayed was a two-star motel. One-star motels are like pixie dust and winning lottery tickets, magical and elusive, illusory.

They just don't exist.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, as I was scouting around for tonight’s accommodations, I came across this. When I saw it I gasped! Could it be true? The Holy Grail of Motels? (At first I thought the picture at the top left was of a ceramic toilet sitting in front of one of the rooms but, disappointingly, it's just a flower pot.)

I didn't want to get my hopes up, but I was getting my hopes up, and felt as if I'd found the Ember Mouse or the Honeyball Hare (or, depending on how things go, the Cinder Rat or the Blight Hare). I should probably call to make a reservation, but I'd feel a bit disappointed if they actually have phones.

Why, you might ask, would I want to stay in a rat hole like this? Why not? (and the corollary, more important, question: do you want to read about it?) And, really, though, what do I have to lose if it's a terrible place... other than $62.00, all my belongings, a few pints of blood, and maybe that extra kidney that I don’t really need anyway?

If this is real, I might start believing in Santa Claus again.

When I saw the sign, I fell to the ground and wept with joy. (footnote: slight exaggerations sometimes included in this blog)

You're looking at this and probably thinking, "It looks pretty much like a two-star motel."

...and you're absolutely right, and even nicer than several of the two-star ones I've stayed in.

A bit dated, but clean, as well as the everpresent but faint smell of cigarette smoke when I first walked in (which disappeared quickly).

The shower was dark, and I could stop up the sink to wash my clothes but had to reach around back to unstop it.

The door was very solid, and felt like it weighed about 50 pounds. Are those marks on the door from someone trying to pry it open from the inside?

No one hiding under the bed, no cache of weapons, no corpses. Not even any dust bunnies.

You might be surprised to find that I wasn't disappointed that it's nicer than I expected. I'm not a sadomasochist, and actually enjoy the finer things in life, like not finding stains on the sheets, especially wet ones, and retaining both of my kidneys. I'm just looking for some excitement in a cheap motel. That didn't come out quite right.

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Today's ride: 31 miles (50 km)
Total: 2,511 miles (4,041 km)

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Gregory GarceauI like to think of myself as the best man wherever I go, but 40 years ago I REALLY WAS the best the best man in Frankenmuth, Michigan . . . at a wedding . . . for a college friend . . . in a German Lutheran church. Turns out, you're a better man than me. You resisted going to that 47-acres of Christman kitsch. I didn't.

One more bit of trivia from my experience in Frankenmuth. The father of the bride in the aforementioned wedding worked his entire life at the brewery in Frankenmuth, through several changes in ownership. At the time I was there, it was owned by Carling, which I believe was a Canadian brewer. I remember that Carling beer flowed freely at the wedding reception. Thanks for the memories.
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5 months ago

Mark BinghamTo Gregory GarceauGreg, they're STILL talking about your visit. I overheard my waiter at the next table: "Yes, we're famous for that, but did you also know that Greg Garceau came here once?" [looks of disbelief] "Yeah, it's true. The Lutheran church where he was the Best Man of All Time started charging a $20.00 entry fee, and the lines are still around the block."
Then the waiter looked around and whispered, "The guy even went to Bronner's and came out with an unsullied soul."
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5 months ago

Carl B.Having grown up just south of Frankenmuth, I remember stopping there a couple of times as a kid (and maybe once as an adult?) on our trips up north (no caps there, it’s the directional use of the term, not the location). Other than the holiday store (craziness), I remember it sort of like the Amanas here in Iowa, with lots of chicken and potato restaurants.
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5 months ago

Gregory GarceauTo Mark BinghamWow, that's impressive. Wait . . . are you pulling my leg?
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5 months ago