121: the secret, beaver, tube man, helmet for scale, mead creek, barns, end of the road, horripilation, jolly giant, women's restroom, juxtaposition, beardfisher, germfask, no comment, do not block drive, naming, hemingway's haunts

September 7, 2025

Gould City to Seney

In keeping with the events of every day since we started, the rain began coming down after pedaling a mere 150 yards from the motel.

more of the tiny, derelict huts we've been seeing

they even have a fireplace and bay windows

Traffic is heavier on a weekend day like today and, consequently, I'm ready to get off M-22. In 13 miles we turn north toward Seney.

In a previous life, Lori was a high school teacher for a couple of years. One of the things she'd do with the class is have them come up with slogans for the upcoming games, and the rival high school Beavers always elicited lewd, but funny posters, which were immediately nixed. ("_________ THE BEAVERS!!!!")

just like yesterday, continuous headwinds with alternating rain and sunshine

Eventually, we turned off M-22 and onto 77. I'm assuming this is a burl and not a carving. At least, I hope so.

ACK! No!! Don't fall for it!!! It's a trick!!! It tastes TERRIBLE!!

In this, and many other journals, you’ll see dozens of photos of barns. What is it that draws us to take pictures of them? I have no idea, but do have some theories, several of which I'm tossing out.

1) Monotony - After miles and miles and miles of this ANYTHING breaking the monotony is novel, and therefore picture worthy.

2) Aesthetics - The solid intersection of angles, various hues of reds and browns, and aged wood make for a pleasing aesthetic.

3) Nostalgia - An old barn (and it seems we only take pictures of the old ones) brings to mind a time when life seemed simpler, even if is really wasn't.

4) Evolution - We evolved to see patterns in everything. It helped us survive, and although seeing repeating lines and angles on a barn isn’t likely to help our evolutionary line, it’s still embedded in our DNA.

I don’t know what made me google this winery because I've passed countless others in which I didn't. The End of the Road Winery sells 26 different wines, most of which are made from fruit (blueberry, strawberry, cherry, etc.) so I suspect they're too sweet. This is a strong indictment coming from a person who hasn't put those two words together in over a decade.

The wines have names such as “Some Like It Hot” (with jalapeños) and “A Walk in the Bog” (with decomposing sphagnum moss?). Yum! One of the descriptions states, “Who said wine is not for breakfast. Happy Sap is Maple wine made from locally processed pure maple syrup.”

I noticed that one of the labels has a dog drinking out of a toilet, captioned with “Yes, I lick my balls, but they taste better than the wine I just had so I’m drinking out of the toilet to get that shitty taste out of my mouth.” (captioned by me)

Eat your heart out you French and Italian wine snobs, because here in America we can have a glass of Son of a Peach with a Wienerlicious hot dog.

As I was taking a picture of this skull, a man with matted hair and a couple of missing teeth, wearing a stained and torn wifebeater t-shirt, opened the door of the house and began screaming at me through the screen. It was a strangled, guttural noise, and one that caused a visceral sensation that I haven't experienced since I saw the woman and her daughter across from the graveyard a few months ago. I don't even know what he said, I just know how it felt.

It made the hair on my neck and arms stand up like soldiers at attention. Here's a new word for you: "horripilation."

Ten minutes later we were sitting in the Jolly Inn diner ordering lunch from the best server I've had on this trip, funny and charming, with a quick wit.

When I told her she was the best, "Cee" (short for Cicely) quipped, "That's a real shame."

checking out the guy coming in to sit near her

"What's the story behind this?" I asked Cee, motioning toward the pictures. The cafe only had a few customers so she was able to spend a few minutes with us explaining the contest they used to have.

The Jolly Giant Slayer is a 7-pound omelette with "everything we have in the kitchen in it," including six eggs, ham, bacon, sausages, hash browns, green peppers, mushroom, and cheese. It's served with three slices of toast. If you can eat all of it in less than an hour the $30.00 cost is waived, and you get your name and picture on the wall.

Seven pounds.

"People screwed it up, though, like they do everything," Cee added. Customers would buy one, then take two or three bites before asking for it to be boxed up, or they would share it, defeating the purpose of the contest.
"It just got to be too much trouble so we quit doing it."

"One day," she told us, "Randy Sawyer came in."
She went on to say that she'd never heard of him, but he does one of those "man vs. food" shows.
"The TV crew came in and we were trying to figure out what was going on. By the time everything was set up, the omelette was cold. He ate it cold. Every time someone tries to eat one, it's sooo disgusting to watch."

She added some more interesting facts. Sawyer is 6' 8" (2 meters) so instead of sitting in a chair he puts on custom knee pads and kneels at the table. Apparently, that prevents his gastrointestinal system from being bent. He also brings his own custom fork for some reason. Cee called it a "turkey fork."

Just for comparison, Nathan Klein, the local guy who was the first one to complete the challenge and likely regretted it later when he was releasing the river of sorrow from his rear end as he was giving birth to a food baby, ate one in 45 minutes. Randy Sawyer finished in 11 minutes.

"Disgusting to watch" indeed.

She pointed out a website on the photo, www.foodchallenges.com, and said there's a video of Sawyer eating the Jolly Giant Slayer, but I wasn't able to find it.

If you look again at the picture above, you'll see Sawyer showing off his muscles. I find that interesting, because being able to eat 7 pounds of food in 11 minutes doesn't make you strong, it just makes you fat.

THIS is what your face SHOULD look like as you face this kind of challenge: "Holy Shit! I didn't think it was going to be THIS big. Sure, it's all fun and games now, but how about later when the Kraken gets unleashed?"

While we ate a smaller, simpler meal I kept expecting to overhear someone saying, "Wow, that gentleman REALLY knows fashion. I can't believe he found two blues to coordinate so well, and, and, wait... WHAT?!?! That luxurious piece of linen only costs $15.00??"

"Why, yes," I'll reply. "I couldn't believe my good fortune to have come across it, and for such a modest price."

It isn't actually voice activated, it's just a sticker.

Lori took this picture in the women's restroom. I can easily guess why there isn't one in the men's.

This guy took an interest in us as we were getting back on the bikes.

There are so many different shapes and colors of fire hydrants.

Juxtaposition..... it's always about juxtaposition.

Rock houses like this are interspersed sporadically here and there across the state.

I've been looking forward to today for the past 2,000 miles... another Thomas Dambo troll! I'm so excited!! It seems weird that someone would be able to charge to see it, though. We just ignored the sign and pedaled right past it. If anyone asks, we'll act like we don't understand the problem because we're not in a car.

Benny has apparently never visited his cousin Joen in Miami. I can tell because he doesn't have any graffiti.... unless, of course, those were actually Joen's tattoos.

If you haven't checked out Dambo's website, you absolutely should:

https://www.thomasdambo.com

Germfask, where Benny the Beardfisher lives, seems like a peculiar name for a town. Who would want the word "germ" in their town's name? (And what are you going to call your sports team? The Germinators, or Germinions? The Phlegm Throwers?)

The name, I learned, is derived from the initials of the eight founding settlers: John Grant, Matthew Edge, George Robinson, Thaddeus Mead, Dr. W. W. French, Ezekiel Ackley, O. D. Sheppard, and Hezekiah Knaggs. (In an aside related to the last name on the list, I picture Hezekiah introducing his wife: "And the Mrs. nags.")

Still, I thought they could do better than a pathogenic name like Germfask. How about "Skream GF?" That would let people with celiac disease and gluten sensitivity know that they're welcome here. Although it's questionable whether anyone in Germfask knows what celiac is. Or gluten, for that matter (or, I wonder, anything about germs).

Perhaps "Re-ask MFG?" That could entice a large manufacturing company to the table.
"Safe Mr kg" announces that, "We're not afraid of the metric system, if you'll just explain it to us once more."
"Skarfem G" would be ideal if they could get Nathan Klein, the first winner of the Jolly Inn's eating contest, to change his name to "Gary," or better, nickname himself "G."

And why limit themselves to just last names, especially if you don't feel the need to include every single letter? Allowing first names into the alphabet soup would create the possibility of town names such as Toe Jam, Warm Egg, Great Shame (or Great Fame), Shake Me Roger, Warm Fart, and Dog Snot. Who wouldn't want to visit a town with any of those names??? The local tourist industry would explode like a boil that reached full ripeness.

Or, I dunno... maybe Germfask isn't so bad after all.

[with eyes tightly closed] IwillnotcommentIwillnotcommentIwillnotcommentIwillnotcomment

Is this like dogs at the Westminster Show? A Pool ready for a showing?

Michigan continues with its very concrete, very literal naming. We've seen the "Petoskey to Mackinaw Trail" and the "St. Ignace to Trout Lake Trail," both clear and unimaginative, and here we have some additional nonartistic nomenclature with "A Pool," "B Pool," and "C Pool." Just south of Germfask is "Ten Curves Road," and up the road we'll see "Purple Road," "Orange Road," and "Pink Road" (The latter is what you get when someone says, "Name them anything you want, preferably something colorful"). I guess more creative nouns and adjectives are in such high demand elsewhere that very few could be spared for rural Michigan.

At the end of the 1800s, Seney, our stop for the night, was a raucous lumber town with more than 3,000 people and, according to old records, a den of drinking, gambling, and prostitution. Currently it has fewer than 200 people so, anticipating that there would be no restaurants, we asked our server (Cee) at the Jolly Inn if we could get sandwiches to go, but deconstructed and in separate containers so they wouldn't get soggy. We remembered everything but napkins.

Ernest Hemingway would stay here in Seney and once boasted that he caught 200 trout in the nearby Fox river. His short story "Big Two-Hearted River" was set in Seney.

Tomorrow is a circle-the-date-on-your-calendar day...... I've been hearing for months that Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore is one of America's undiscovered gems, and I'm very excited about it.

I researched which company would be best for a tour. Riptide was out, based on the recommendations from the couple I met back in Clare, Lane and Karen. They had just returned and said it was all loud music and fist pumping.

Pictured Rocks Cruises is the other circus in town, and they have several tour options: The Original, Sunset Classic, Spray Falls, and Sunset Spray Falls. Clueless, I dug deeper... which is the best?

The answer? None of them. Something that would turn out to be much, much better.

But we'll need to get an early start in the morning if we're going to make it to Munising in time.

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Today's ride: 30 miles (48 km)
Total: 3,175 miles (5,110 km)

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