After a hard summer of not really riding enough, I set out for Marquette, Michigan in hopes of a couple of days of mountain bike riding. I loaded my junk in the car and went to work.
Nothing was going on at work, which — c’mon, beautiful sunny Saturday? So I got restless and couldn’t take the idea of driving half the night and hit the road. The view of the road looked a lot like this:
That beautiful, flat, low-sun Michigan fall. The above does zero justice to the fantastic colors in the trees. I’ll work on this in future pictures. Not that you should get your hopes up, because I pretty much stink at photography.
As part of the trip I went over the Mackinac bridge for the second time in my life. Here it is represented as a thin line in a world of blue. This does not seem inaccurate.
And then I was in Canada!
Just kidding. Still in Michigan.
It was hella windy. Am I too old to say hella windy? Do the kids still talk like that? Am I behind? Have I failed my daughter and every other cool young person who tried to coach me? Whatever, the wind was blowing like crazy, and Lake Michigan looked like a very inhospitable place.
And then I drove for a billion more miles and BANG, there was Lake Superior.
Look how much less pissed-off Lake Superior looks compared to (hostile) Lake Michigan. What does it mean?
Then I got to Marquette and got my junk unloaded. I walked all over town looking for just the right bar/restaurant/thing. While walking, the sun set.
I walked on and eventually ended up in a place about one block from my bed. They had Two Hearted on tap and a fantastic pizza with really good service.
And now I’m ready for the sand man. “They” say the phone service is crappy and the trails aren’t all that well marked and I’ll probably get lost. Sounds like the beginnings of an adventure.