Riders Block IX

DAY 9

Buchanan, MI to Petoskey, MI

363 miles

 

When I get up the next morning, I honestly consider blowing off the rest of the trip to stay in Buchanan.  I know that Maureen and Joe don’t live the total life of luxury that I have been treated to over the past three days, but anything even close to that sounds appealing to me.  Maureen will take Austin to the beach and as much as I’d like to go, I have to get on the road.  After a quick breakfast of peaches, zucchini bread and espresso I hit the road.

I take US 31, which hugs the coast for most of the drive.  The landscape in western Michigan is all over the place; in some spots it looks like a typical Midwestern town with flat fields of corn and soy and lone barns, pale in color and sinking slowly into the vegetation as moss spreads over the asphalt shingles and trees and shrubs wrap their arms around the sides, reaching all the way up to the rafters.  In other spots the road dips through thick, green forests and actually heads up an incline or two and off in the distance I can see rolling hills.  A billboard touts that Healthy Michigan Families Promote Breastfeeding and I think this a rather weird slogan for a roadside sign.  In Onekama, about halfway up the coast, I stop for lunch at what is called a Chop Shop.  The food is bland and the service is slow even though I am the only customer.  The best part about lunch is the homemade potato chips, made with red potatoes.  The waiter is awkward and I contemplate stiffing him on the tip but he comes by at the end of my meal and acts friendly so I give him his due eighteen percent.

After Manistee, I take route 22 which runs up to a small peninsula on the northwestern side of the mitten.  Groves of peach trees run along the sides of hills and I begin to ascend an enormous mountain through thick forest and after I reach the summit and begin the descent, the trees clear and the first view of the lake appears.  The water is endless and is absolutely shimmering in the afternoon sun.  It is so clear and stretches on forever in a mix of blues and greens.  I stop at a scenic turnout near Arcadia and look at the endless expanse of fresh water.  The coastline is rugged and beautiful and the view looks as if they could beat anything the Mediterranean or California coasts had to offer.  I can’t even pretend I can see Wisconsin across the lake it is so massive and the view of the coast stretches on for miles.

The sparkling water becomes too much for me and when I reach a turnoff in Glen Haven I park at a public beach and jump in the water.  The beach is simple with a few rolling sand hills with long grasses poking out between the sand.  The water is feels as beautiful as it looks and up close it is a brilliant, translucent blue color and is absolutely reinvigorating after six hours in the car.  From the shore I can see South Manitou Island, home to the Sleeping Bear Dunes.  The face of a steep, sandy hill is surrounded on all sides by thick, black trees, forming a hood with a widows peak around the dune and from the shore it looks like the face of a bear with the remaining tree-covered island resembling like his massive, hibernating body.    The island is miles off shore and a popular spot for vacationers but I don’t have nearly enough time to travel there.  I get out of the water and wrap a towel around myself, remove my wet suit and drive simply with the towel around my waist.  The sun begins to beat in on me and I can feel my left arm and the side of my face getting hotter and hotter.

I skip back to US 31 and head towards the northern most tip of the state.  In Norwood I jump in the water again and put on real clothes since I plan to stop in Petoskey for dinner.  I eat at a little resort community right on the water.  Route 31 runs along the side of a hill and the little resort area is cut right into the side of that hill, the whole side of it is sheered right off, leaving a sharp drop off that looms over the area like a fortress.  All the houses and buildings have been constructed within the past twenty years and it looks as if a giant doll village has been placed along the beautiful bay.  I walk over to an overpriced restaurant and sit awkwardly at the bar between two groups of drunk couples in order to avoid the hour wait for a table.  The food turns out to be quite good; I have a Caesar salad with fresh anchovies and a ten-piece California roll.  The two couples on either side of me insist on talking to me so I tell them about my travels and they are very impressed as drunk people easily are.

When I emerge from the restaurant it is pouring and the wind is whipping the rain sideways and I am immediately soaked.  The idea of camping in the Upper Peninsula in the pouring rain suddenly seems like a bad idea so, soaking wet, I stop at a Super 8, nary a mile down the road, but still a rough drive in the brutal weather.  Luckily, they have a hot tub, as I have become accustomed to using one daily at this point, and that helps me return to my normal body temperature.  I get to bed early to try and get a jump on the next day’s journey, hoping to be in Wisconsin by tomorrow evening.