Imaginary Roads

Today's leg of the Tour de Northern Michigan began on a trail conveniently located behind our hotel in Traverse City, and continued onto a road leading us south.  David informed me ahead of time that we would be facing a category 5 hill very early in the ride, the lowest category a categorized hill can have.  I was slightly worried. It's hard to climb a hill when your legs haven't properly warmed up, but by the time we left this road, what we thought might qualify as the big hill wasn't really all that impressive.  We climbed more difficult hills as the day progressed.

This is an example of a very bad road
for road bikes.  This is just the beginning. 

About nine miles into the trip, our turn-off suddenly became a dirt road in the middle of the forest.  Hm... Why it didn't occur to us to turn around at this point, the world will never know.  The dirt was too soft in some places, and our bikes were too heavy to ride without sliding around and nearly laying down many times.  We pushed our bikes up a hill hoping that the run-off from the gully-washers of the previous days were making the hills uniquely soft and squishy, and at times we were able to ride for short bursts before having to get off and push the bikes again.

Magical tiny toads of Traverse

It's only about 1.6 miles, David would tell me.  Then we turn onto a different road.  Meanwhile, we alternated between riding and pushing and wondering what kind of people lived out here in the middle of nowhere.  Who were these forest hermits?  The soft road was covered in deer tracks, and small toads hopped across here and there.  David picked up one of these tiny toads, which we've learned are native and unique to this forest south of TC.  Early settlers marveled at these miniature wonders, and many legends credited them with magical qualities.  It was once believed that if you could catch seven of them at once, your wishes would come true.  We had no time to hunt for mini-toads, and so only got a picture of this one.

Other evidence of wildlife included great screeching flying things.  We couldn't actually see them, but pterodactyl-like beasts swooped about the forest calling to one another.  David roughly translated the messages as, "I'll get the one on the black bike.  You get the one on the white bike."

About three or four miles later, to our great relief, we pushed our bikes back out into civilization and paved roads.  We didn't even let the hills bother us at this point.  Soon afterward, it began to rain.  We traveled a few more miles and found a gas station, where David purchased some WD40 to clean out our gunky bike chains before we resumed riding in a now heavier rain.

David's lunch of two eggs, bacon, hash browns
 and giant toast

It was close to lunchtime, but we weren't quite ready to eat, so we inquired about possible restaurants in the next town, Manton, which was 13 miles away.  A young man tipped us off to a restaurant where we might wait a bit to get our food, but the portions would be such that we would not be able to finish our lunch.  We decided to take this as a challenge.  We failed the challenge but gained the energy necessary to ride for another hour or more to Cadillac.  Of course, having ridden in heavy rain for some time now, we were both a bit muddy and took a few minutes to wipe the road grime from our legs before entering the establishment.  It's bad enough to walk into a place frequented mostly by locals wearing stretchy shorts, but walking in muddy with stretchy shorts could only make things more awkward.  

Riding to Manton, we were supposed to leave the main road at some point and turn onto a road called, "Road 4."  I was skeptical about something called "Road 4" from the beginning.  As it turned out, we never found Road 4.  I have decided it doesn't exist, and no amount of looking at maps will convince me otherwise.

Before we leave Manton in the dust, though, I should tell you a little bit more about this place.  Originally a logging town, the early settlers were primarily men, who, to ward off the boredom of hanging out with men all the time, established a real man's festival.  In addition to many other challenges one could participate in, bear wrestling became the favorite.  Thus the name of the town - Man-Town, shortened to Manton, came about.  There was even a sign on the way into town announcing the class four heavyweight high school state wrestling champion of 2006: a clear sign of a town still proud of its heritage.

After all that rain and mud and dirt and BIG hills, we finally arrived in Cadillac this afternoon and found a place to stay.  We have washed the mud from our riding clothes, and my tennis shoes are drying on the air conditioner (don't worry - I washed them with the clothes, and they don't stink).  Surprisingly, we are still not hungry, although it's been about seven hours since lunch now.  Today David was the one who had to take the lead by putting a positive spin on things as my positive spin got lost somewhere in the forest where one dirt road lead to another dirt road.  47 miles completed today.  We are clean and dry, and life is still good.

(The historical facts in the above narrative are sketchy at best and mostly based upon the author's imagination of how things might have developed in the areas ridden.  The sign about the heavyweight wrestling champion and information about the riding conditions are all true, though.)