119: out of context, etchings, locked away life vests, yoopers & trolls, mystery spot, o.r.v., edmund fitzgerald, the shoe sign, grading, drafting, the puppeteer, the lie, pick a room any room, frankenstein room, alien squash

September 5, 2025

Mackinac Island to Brevort

From the “Out of Context” file, when Lori strolled out of the bathroom this morning I eagerly blurted out, “I’m very excited to try your Vaseline.” Fortunately, she knew exactly what I meant.

Growing up, Lori was a hardy Minnesota farm girl who worked and played outside all winter, regardless of the temperature, and regardless of whether she wanted to or not (and when I say “regardless,” that’s exactly what I mean). The wind in Minnesota can feel perpetual, and someone once told me a joke about it: that the wind stopped blowing one day and everyone fell over.

For some reason, yesterday’s short ride exhausted both of us (read: exhausted me - she continues to have boundless energy), and at the end of the day I felt tired and sunburned. Of course, it was actually a windburn, not uncommon when an unobstructed gale blows straight into your face all day. Lori, a veteran of windburn, told me that Vaseline, aka petroleum jelly, can be used to prevent it. It’s something I’ve never tried, and was eager to find out how well it worked. After slathering it across my face and feeling like an Olympic cross-country skier, we headed out.

It shouldn't surprise me, but for the third day, the rain began within two minutes after we started riding. The roads, not only here but all over the island, are etched with furrows from years of wagon wheels rolling over them.

Because of the strong winds, the ferry ride to St. Ignace (pronounced "IGnuss") was bumpy. This is the view out a side window as the hull slammed into the surf, as it did for the entire 17-minute trip.

I noticed that there are life preservers, but no handles to open the cabinets. Hopefully, when the boat is upside down the life jackets will float up to push them open.

For those of you who are unaware of Michigan and its neologisms, there are a couple of important terms about which you should be aware, and because we're now in the U.P., today is the best point to tell you.

Michigan is divided into two land masses: an upper peninsula (usually abbreviated as the “U.P.”) and a lower peninsula, separated by The Bridge. Residents in the upper peninsula, above the bridge are called “Yoopers,” as in "U.P.ers." (more trivia to impress those strangers at a dinner party: The word "Yooper" was first published in 1979, but wasn't added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary until 2014.) Those who live below the bridge are called “Trolls,” (as in, trolls live under a bridge). There has always been a rivalry between the two regions.

"Always" isn't much of an exaggeration: Michigan became a state in 1837, and there have been attempts as far back as 1858 for the U.P. to become its own state, named “Superior,” or “Ontonagon” (the former because it borders Lake Superior and the latter because it's the name of the town where the initial convention for secession was held). Again, in 1897 and 1959, it was brought up and, in 1962 the Upper Peninsula Independence Association was founded.

In St. Ignace we stopped for a hearty breakfast. The rain is supposed to ease off in a while so we lingered in the cafe for almost two hours.

"My goodness! That is a VERY handsome napkin tucked into that gentleman's shirt."

Sated and warmed from breakfast, we stepped out under the awning to add some additional layers of clothing, and as we were climbing onto the bikes.... it began to rain.

We're heading NNW for the first half of the day, then due West for the second half.

During my search for the weird and interesting, I came across St. Ignace's "Mystery Spot." You should know that the term doesn't always refer to that weird-looking lump on your back with hair growing out of it and, in this case, it refers to a specific kind of tourist trap.

You'll see them here and there across the country - a roadside attraction where gravity supposedly defies the rules, where a car rolls uphill. Oddly, it’s one of the most visited quirky attractions in the Upper Peninsula, at least according to their advertising. From what I read, though, it wasn’t worth even the slight detour it would’ve taken to see it, nor the $10.00 charge.

Maybe I'll see another one, especially since there are 56 "mystery spots" in the US. My real hope is to find a new and undiscovered gravity-defying Mystery Spot as I'm grinding up a hill carrying all of my gear plus the new hot tub and sauna I packed for this section of the trip.

At this point on the route I considered taking a detour north northeast to see Paradise (a place Yoopers are particularly proud of, especially since there's a "Hell" in the lower peninsula) and Whitefish Point. Whitefish Point is the location of the Edmund Fitzgerald Memorial, the massive 730-foot-long (222.5 m) ship that sank just over the border in Canada and later memorialized by Gordon Lightfoot.

These are the last two lines of the song:
"Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early."
It's a fact that, unlike many other places, people who drown in Lake Superior are frequently never found because the water temperature is so cold that the bacteria which normally generates gas inside the body are inhibited, so the bodies don't float to the surface.

Whitefish Point also has The Whitefish Point Underwater Preserve, which has thirty well preserved shipwrecks in deep, clear water. It’s one of the last places you can see shipwrecks without zebra mussel encrustations. Zebra mussels are an invasive species that, upon colonization, don’t just cling individually - they pile on top of one another and reach tens of thousands per square meter, completely obliterating anything they occupy.

I'm sure it would've been an interesting detour, but I decided to stick to my original course and head in a generally northwest direction.

We had a hitch in finding the St. Ignace to Trout Lake Trail (another creatively named pathway). This is what it looked like.

The trail, cluttered with stones and water, was harder to ride on than it appears, as you'll see with successive pictures. We learned that the "bike trails" in Michigan are actually "O.R.V. trails," used for OffRoad Vehicles. Rocks the size of my fist were scattered everywhere, and we could count on finding them buried in the puddles like unexploded mines. The further down the path we traveled, the larger and deeper the puddles became. The rain continued off and on all day, and our average speed for this section was a diminutive 6.5 mph/10.4 kph.

At one point, I was a bit ahead of Lori, maybe a hundred yards, when I looked back and found she and her bike had disappeared. I wasn't too concerned, thinking that I might need to step off the trail at some point to take care of some business myself, but wondered where her bike went. As it turned out, when trying to slip between a puddle and the edge of the trail, her wheel hit one of the rocks and she toppled into the underbrush. Fortunately, she was unhurt.

This is out in the middle of nowhere, miles from anything.

Look at that smile. She seems to be enjoying herself out here..... I think there might be something deeply wrong with her. Or, maybe she was just born for cycle touring.

The shoe HAS to be nailed there, because the wind would surely have blown it off by now. And did someone bring a ladder out here to do it?

After the grader passed, the trail went from puddle to muck, with a slim, rideable path on the right. I'd even say it was a bit easier to traverse now that many of the larger rocks had been removed. Better, but still slow going.

We continued for a while longer then, shortly after mile 14, turned into a direct 20+ mile an hour headwind, still with intermittent rain.

Because of the wind, this section of today's ride would be ideal for drafting. For those of you who don’t know what “drafting” is, here’s one of the definitions I found: “Drafting occurs when a cyclist moves into an area of low pressure behind another cyclist, reducing the wind resistance and the amount of energy required to pedal.”

It’s really dangerous, and can result in broken bones and other injuries. I’ve witnessed crashes as a result of drafting, some quite serious. Only stupid people do it.

Like me.

Also online: “Doing this correctly can reduce the amount of effort you’re putting in by 30%.” 30%??? Jeez, on a day like today, I'd sell my kidney for 30%.

And, of course, it’s so easy to justify doing stupid things. I saw it in the ER all the time:
Patient: “I can handle my snakes, even if I’ve been drinking.” (real quote from rattlesnake bite victim)
Patient: “I didn’t think it would do that.” (real quote from a heart attack patient with alcoholic cardiomyopathy, aka heart failure, after he'd been drinking for three days straight)
Patient: "It was easier to cut off that way." (real quote after fall injury) This was after the guy had climbed out onto the branch beyond the section he was cutting.
Mark: “I’m heading into a 23-mph direct headwind for the rest of the day, and I’m tired. And anyway, I’m going so slow that if I do crash it’ll be more like falling off a chair instead of crashing at speed.” (real quote to myself)

You’ll be happy to know that the above isn't foreshadowing, and I collected that 30% reduction in spades. I didn’t crash, but it’s still stupid.... especially since I would've had to buy yet one more helmet.

a little bit of downhill on the home stretch

The weather, I'm convinced, has become sentient, a masterful puppeteer anticipating our every move. When the rain jackets come off, the skies would inevitably open within five minutes, and usually less. I began calling my rain jacket a "rain prevention jacket."

The motel's anteroom was adorned with a mixture of religious items: bibles, religious tracts, crucifixes, and pictures of Jesus, and I wondered about the optics of a couple sharing a bedroom, both of whom are married to other people. The "We're just friends," line would likely bring a skeptical, raised eyebrow, and a judgmental, "I seeeee....."

So, in order to avoid the appearance of sin, I opted to lie which, I believe, is still a sin. Before entering the lobby I pointed out the religious literature to Lori and whispered, "Pretend you're my wife."

The Lie, I decided, wouldn't be me blurting out, "We're married!" Not because, clearly, it would be counterproductive.... No, the reason is that I'm such a terrible liar. Lying complicates things, and you have to remember what you told to whom, and keep it all sorted in the back of your brain so you don't get caught. It's just too complicated for a simple guy like me.

Therefore, in this case I thought I'd go with The Lie of Omission. If I'm asked, "Oh, and your wife's name?" I'll just look over at Lori with a smile and say "Heather." That would be me NOT lying. If asked, "And this is your wife?" I hold up my left hand pointing out the ring on the fourth digit and say, "Been married almost thirty years now."

I needn't have worried. Upon entering the wood-paneled, cluttered office, there was no one there. The door behind the desk had a piece of yellow paper taped to it which read, "Please knock loudly." I rapped my knuckles against it, but even after a couple of tries got no response so we went back to the front door where I recalled seeing seeing some phone numbers.

"If no one in office, call (2) Billie Jo (906)-xxx-xxxx or (1) Nate (906)-xxx-xxxx." Calling (1) Nate, the second name, connected me to voicemail, so I called the first number, with the (2) beside it, and finally talked to a person.

Billie Jo told me she's 45 minutes away, but just go ahead and pick a room. She said she'll swing by and I can pay later. "Just go on in to Room 1... or 3... or 5... let's see....or 7.... take your pick - they're all open. I think 8 and 9 have people in them." I grabbed a pen from the counter and started writing on my hand, stopping at 5 because I didn't want a little bit of sweat on my palm to result in me walking in on someone after they just came out of the bathroom.

"Want me to just leave the money here in the office?" I asked.
"Yeah, that'd be great." I peered around to find a spot, then slid five 20 dollar bills under the base of the TV in the corner.
"Yeah, I know where that is. That's perfect," she said when I told her where the secret cache of cash was.

I decided on Room 1 because, being at the very end, we would be 50% less likely to hear our neighbors screaming, or having sex, or both at the same time. After unloading our dripping panniers and taking them into the bathroom to dry, Lori noticed that although we were 50% less likely to have neighbors, there was a 100% chance that one of the beds had no sheets, so we moved to Room 3.

Room 3 was identical to Room 1, with the exception that there were no hand towels, so Lori slipped back into the first room to grab some. Then I noticed that there was only a partial roll of toilet paper remaining.... barely enough to cover a slice on my chin if I cut myself shaving. Lori went back to Room 1 but it didn't have any either, so she scouted around and found a couple of rolls in Room 4. Now we're set for the evening.... we have towels, toilet paper, sheets - what else do we need in life?

Maybe a room key? Although there was one on the dresser of every other room we entered, just as Billie Jo had said there would be, the one in our now-fully-stocked Room 3, the Frankenstein Room, was conspicuously missing.

When it was time to get something to eat we just left the room unlocked.

During my conversation with Billie Jo I asked if there were any cafes in town that were open. She yelled to someone in the background, and also in my ear: "Is the White Tail still open?!? Yeah?" Then to me, "The White Tail is open, just down the road."

The White Tail is NOT open. Today is Friday, and it's before 4:00, but there was no one there.

With the restaurant closed we now had two other options, neither one ideal: the convenience store, which didn't have any "real" food, and the Farm Market, which was laden with fruit, vegetables, local honey, and pies. Filling my gut with an entire meal of fruit would be delicious, and satisfying, but might cause some unwanted gastrointestinal issues in my near and rear future.

I bought some items from both: a root beer, fish dip, and crackers from the convenience store, and a peach and some blueberries from the Farm Market.

These are the kinds of culinary delights available in the store. And note that it's "koegel," not "kegel."

We didn't buy this, but I did take a picture of it because it's so weird, and cool... alien squash coming to take over the planet.

Having purchased our dinner, we stepped out from beneath the Farm Market's awning to walk back to the hotel.... and it started raining.

For being so short, this was a tough day. At bedtime I rolled into a deep sleep and don't believe I moved all night.

Some good news: my face wasn't chapped, and I'm excited to repeat the Vaseline trick tomorrow. Who's teaching whom about bicycle touring?

Heart

Comment

Link

Heart

Comment

Link

Today's ride: 26 miles (42 km)
Total: 3,110 miles (5,005 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	11
Comment on this entry	Comment	2

Mike Aylingyou were sun burned not wind burned.
Put "wind burn" in your browser and see what comes up.
The vaseline may help to reduce the sting of the previous day's burn but you would be better off applying some SPF 50 instead.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Mark BinghamTo Mike AylingVery interesting, Mike.... thanks.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago