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I had first thought that I would listen to music or a book today, but then decided to have a playlist-free day and enjoy the solitude. I thought almost immediately of the book Quiet by Susan Cain. It's about introverts, which I'm not, but Dee is. If you haven't read the book, you really should, and it should be required of every teacher in the country. We have long known, as our friend Janet Ott teaches, introversion and extroversion are not about whether you like being around people or not, they're about how you get your energy and recharge. Dee recharges by being alone reading. She loves socializing, not necessarily at big functions, but certainly loves being around people. But, that doesn't give her energy. I love being around people, small crowds or large, and I get energized. So, as you might imagine, I don't spend a lot of time in solitude. The time I've spent on this trip has caused me to think I should spend more time in quiet contemplation. Maybe it will recharge parts of me I haven't been recharging.
I rode the entire day on the White Pine Trail, except for a short detour, which you'll read about below. It was a pleasant fall morning and the first 14+ miles of the trail were paved. So it was a good start.
Here's the sign that one sees at each trail entrance point.
There was little human activity along the trail this morning, but the wildlife were pretty active. There were lots of birds chirping and swooping, including a beautiful Blue Jay. I saw numerous ground squirrels or chipmunks (I wasn't close enough to see if they had head stripes — chipmunks do, ground squirrels don't). I also had a black tree squirrel play chicken with me, dashing back and forth right in front of the bike. If it had made one more false move I might have run over it. Maybe I would have found out if it tasted like chicken. I never hunted squirrels growing up. I did hunt rabbits, cleaned them, and Mom or Dad fried them. I love rabbit to this day, though I no longer hunt. I did see a rabbit that ran beside me along the trail for a few yards. I think my brother Bruce has hunted squirrels — he's hunted most everything. The only color squirrel I knew growing up were the reddish brown ones. I don't believe I ever saw a black squirrel when I was young. Now we have black squirrels where we live in Lynden. I have very rarely seen white squirrels, but I've seen two on this trip, neither close enough to photograph.
Just before I arrived in Paris (no, not that Paris, nor the ones in Arkansas, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, or Maine — the one in Michigan), I spotted this clever sign painted on the trail.
It says "Paris Swamp." Indeed, if one looked to either side of the trail, there was a swamp.
After a rendezvous with Dee at Big Rapids to pick up more water and rest a few minutes, I headed south again. Here's the sign a the south edge of Big Rapids (I missed the one at the north).
It was also at this point that I snapped this photo of the trail change.
As you can see, it rapidly changes from a smooth asphalt surface to two crushed rock tracks. The trail conditions varied widely from smooth packed gravel and dirt to very loose rock and sand. The trail was advertised as a crushed rock and grass trail and I had assumed it meant mostly like what's pictured here, until I came along patches like this.
For short distances one was literally riding across a grass lawn, but these stretches didn't last long.
I mentioned yesterday that our friend Lori Tucker-Sullivan was riding with me. In addition to chairing the Book Industry Charitable Foundation board, and working as the Executive Director of the Independent Booksellers Consortium, Lori is also a freelance journalist and college professor. On Wednesday her essay, "I'm a widow. Why do people assume I can't handle going to a wedding," was published in the Washington Post. If you have a widow in your family you just might want to read this.
If Minnesota is known as the Land of 10,000 Lakes (it actually has nearly 12,000 of at least 4 acres in size), perhaps Wisconsin and Michigan can vie for the title of Land of Many Rivers. I rode today along the Muskegon, where I took this photo from a bridge on the trail.
Later in the day I rode along the Rogue River — I know, all of you West Coasters think the Rogue is in Oregon. This one is not. Here's a sign identifying a park along the river.
There was one section of the trail that was closed, but clear directions on the sign identified a detour and where to rejoin the trail. Shortly into the detour I thought that I wished I had taken a photo of the closed sign for the blog. A short time later I wished I'd taken a photo of the sign so I could remember how to get back to the trail. I did remember that I was supposed to turn on 185th, which I did. I rode some distance, and up three pretty steep hills, but didn't see a place to join the trail. So, I turned around and rode back to where I came onto 185th. There I spotted a Sheriff's car parked at the side of the road. I asked the extremely pleasant deputy where the trail resumed and he pointed me back on 185th the direction I had first ridden. Seems I turned around about a quarter of a mile short of Johnson Road, where it was evident that the trail resumed. So, back up the three hills and back on the trail.
Shortly after getting back on the trail a car stopped at a crossing and it was evident that someone was going to ride the mountain bike on the bike carrier. Trying to do my good deed for the day, I rolled over to the car and said to the woman emerging from the passenger seat "if you're going north, the trail is washed out and there's a detour. She said her husband was riding south. Good deed done, I went on my way.
When I stopped a ways down the trail to drink some water, the guy from the car —George Davis — caught up with me. We struck up a conversation. He's a "local" who lives in Rockford and works for Xerox in Grand Rapids. He rides the trail often. So, we rode together, conversing as we rode, from near Stanwood, where his wife let him off, to Cedar Springs, about 25 miles.
Before getting to Cedar Springs I came upon this.
As you might guess, this is pretty deep sand. George tells me that the Amish often ride their horse buggies along these trails —there was some organic evidence of that all along — and that when they're first turning on the sideways motion of the cart and the hoofs of the horses churn up this sand and keep it loose. This is right after a road crossing. When my bike hit the sand, it stopped. I didn't. the water bottle in the sand marks the spot where the bike went down. Now I have scratches on my right calf that match those on my left, acquired in the day-one fall. Aside from a few scratches and deeply wounded pride there was nothing hurt, including the bike. Luckily, as George pointed out, the sand made for a pretty soft landing, which rocks would not have.
When we arrived in Cedar Springs we stopped for beer and food at the Cedar Springs Brewing Company. It's a great place that serves German-style beer and food, and George and his wife Coleen come here regularly. Coleen joined us. She is the Executive Director of Alternatives in Motion, a nonprofit that rehabs electric wheelchairs and distributes them to folks who can't afford to buy one. We had a great time talking about nonprofits.
Here's a photo of George outside the Brewing Company. It was great to have an unexpected companion on part of the trip today.
Day Fourteen by the numbers:
64.6 - miles ridden
1364.8 - feet in elevation gained
6470.91 - calories burned
1 - fall (see story above)
0 - dogs
Chuck,
Enjoyed the ride with you through a small portion of our great state of Michigan. Cycling is so much more than our bikes and the trials we ride on , Friendships develop out of thin air and your never alone on the trail.
Look forward to following you and Dee to the finish at Bar Harbor and beyond !
Watch those sand traps brother!
George
Posted by: George Davis | 09/17/2017 at 10:37 AM