Morning dawned foggy and muggy, along the lake shore. We had a breakfast of bagel and Nutella in the shared kitchenette unit at the Big Bay Getaway Motel. Still no Internet. I pulled the rear wheel, opened the tire, and replaced the broken spoke. I got a strip of surgical tape from the motel owner to repair the hole in the spoke tape strip and reassembled the bike. The wheel seemed true enough, so we loaded up, after eating our last bagle with peanut butter, all out of our emergency supplies.

The road climbed slowly but perceptibly through the place named Isabella, of which only an old church building remained. Soon, we were far enough away from the lake that the fog lifted to reveal a sunny, hot day. The road continued to climb past defunct restaurants, bars, motels, and gas station/convenience stores, through St. Jacques. At Ensign, the only sign of which was a small log yard, we stopped for a rest at the highest point of the day. Howard and Lorene, our B&B hosts two nights before, stopped on their way to “the city” to inquire if we needed assistance, very thoughtful of them.

We descended slowly to the lake level, turning north to round the bay into Rapid River (which, although full of rocks that might be rapids in spring, was not rapid). We ate lunch at Jack’s EATS, the first restaurant we had seen in 50 miles that was open. Jack’s has been in business for 70 years, and the menu hasn’t changed except for the prices. We saw other customers eating dishes I haven’t ordered since the mid-1950s: hot beef sandwiches smothered in gravy. We chose lighter fare, and headed south to Gladstone.

Leaving Rapid River, we finally departed US 2, which, though it had a wide shoulder, was very busy with trucks, campers, cars, and motorcycles, being the main east-west route through Upper Michigan. Our road roughly followed the shoreline,through the shore community of Kipling (which consisted of closed beach cabins, motels, and a bar that might or might not be open) to Gladstone. By now, the temperature had risen to nearly 90 degrees F (30C).

In Gladstone, we stopped at the Super Value, the first grocery store we had seen since Manistique, to restock. A local cyclist loading up his groceries came over to talk to us: when I inquired about nearby lodging, we realized he was the only Warm Showers host on Highway 2 in the U.P. We had intended to contact him, but had had no phone service or Internet access for days. He invited us to stay before we even identified ourselves, something we have also done for cycle tourists back home in Shelton. What a coincidence and lucky fortune to meet him on the street! Scott led us to his house, a small one-bedroom cottage, and offered us his room for the night. As he didn’t have Internet at home, we went to the nearby public libarary to inform our families and friends that we indeed had not perished on the road and were safe and sound. Scott also joined us, then we returned to his house for a tasty meal of burritos, to which we contributed from our food stash as well. We were awakened at 5:00am by Scott’s Chihuahua-Yorkie mix, who burrowed under the covers, like our cat does at home. After more conversation, coffee, and breakfast, we headed out for our next destination, Cedar River.

The first few miles were a fast downhill off the bluff and a spectacular run along the shore, pushed by a strong tailwind from the southeast. We stopped at a rest stop at the northernmost point of Lake Michigan, which marked the start of our descent around the lake toward Wisconsin.

At Naubinway, we found a grocery store, then headed straight west, away from the lake shore, which was curving noticeably to the southwest. The road ramped up gradually, gaining altitude back to what we had started at in the morning. The service stops marked on our map were largely either defunct or decrepit, but there were also some new ones.

We had made reservations at the Blaney Lodge, in Blaney Park, just north of US 2 on Michigan 77. The owner told us to stop for dinner at the “Log Cabin Restaurant” about 10 miles out. We checked at a gas station were we resupplied water and electrolyte drink, and found the exact location. We found the “Farmhouse Restaurant,” which was, of course, a log cabin, by which name the locals called it.

Another stop at a maple syrup and candy factory near our turnoff, and we headed north over a rise and up a steeper hill to the unincorporated village of Blaney Part, which consisted solely of business converted to antique shops, plus the gem of the trip, the Blaney Lodge, a bed and breakfast in a restored historic hotel, run by Herman and Lorene and their assistant, Marvin. Herman and Lorene, in their 80s, have run the B&B for 22 years and were delightful hosts, as we were the only guests on a quiet Sunday night. Although they have 15 rooms, they limit the reservations these days to what they can handle, as there only employee was about our age, as well. The previous night, there had been a number of guests. We were introduced to neighbor Bill and his wife, who came over to chat and look over our bike.

The next morning, we were treated to Herman’s special oatmeal recipe and loaded up with the leftovers for our trip west. Lorene took our picture for their wall of guest photos and we headed out into a gloomy and damp morning.

After the overnight rain stopped, we had our instant oatmeal and strawberry mini-yogurt breakfast at the very expensive Super 8 (along with all of the tractor folks who had driven up motel prices for the weekend), got our bike out of the motel garage (which was very nice of them to do, even if only to save their new carpets). Loaded up, we headed into the wet, with thunder rumbling over the lake. We planned a short (26 mile) day, based on our previous performance.

It didn’t rain on us, and there was only one hill steep enough to have to stop and push a bit. Our meager breakfast ran out at Brevort, where we found an excellent restaurant with all-day breakfast. As we were finishing our meal, two couples about our age exited the restaurant and surrounded our bike, which was parked in a car space in front. As we watched through the window, the men peered intently at all the electronics and controls, while the women focussed on the rear cockpit. One of them actually reached out and pinched Judy’s saddle to see how hard or soft it was. I imagine they were thinking how someone could possibly ride cross-country on such a spindly machine.

Pressing on, we followed the Adventure Cycling route away from US2 on the Cut River Road, thus bypassing the high (and narrow) bridge across the Cut River Canyon. The crossing on the bypass was anti-climactic, as the river ran through a culvert where the narrow but still shallow canyon was filled. The bypass came out about 300 meters past our motel in Epoufette. We were able to check in at 12:30, making our short day almost a rest day. The Skyline Motel and adjoinging restaurant sits on a high bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, with spectacular views, despite the fog and haze over the lake.

The next morning dawned clear and cold, 45F (7C). We took the tarp off the bike, secured to the porch post outside our room, and under the runoff from the office roof. A breakfast of oatmeal at the restaurant, as the first customers on a quiet Sunday morning, and we were off on the longest day yet of our tour.