I stared at the large-scale map of the northern portion of Michigan and Lake Superior which was posted at the highway rest stop. Lake Superior is huge; about 400 miles from west to east and perhaps 200 miles at its widest point. When cycling in the past, my previous reference lake had been Lake Washington, itself a relatively large lake measuring about 25 miles long and 2-3 miles wide. I can bicycle the 60 or so miles around Lake Washington in tow-thirds of a day, feeling well worn-out for the effort. In contrast you could fit about 1,000 Lake Washingtons into Lake Superior. The stretch of my Journey between Duluth, MN and Sault Ste. Marie, MI is 400 miles and traverses only the south shore of this huge lake. Most of my Journey to date had really consisted of single-day rides from camp to camp; some longer and some shorter. The scenery and the landscape have consisted of the Here and Now: what I could see from my bicycle seat. The totality of the Journey, across the Continent of North America, has been largely an abstraction. But on this large, roadside map I could see and grasp the magnitude of some four days worth of riding as gaged by this huge lake. I really was covering large pieces of territory with my bicycle!
The lake pinches off on it western extremety, forming the harbor for Duluth, MN and Superior, WI. After having gotten used to flat country crossing the central and eastern portions of Minnesota, it was surprising to see a large escarpment and dropoff just as I got to the lake. The view across northern Wisconsin and western Lake Superior was like that from an airplane, reminiscent of the view I got of western North Dakota a week ago as I had descended into the Yellowstone River Valley.
The terrain has continued to be a biker's dream. It is mosly flat with occasional, shallow stream valleys. The wind has been mostly out of the West, helping me make eastward progress. Even the mosquitoes have largely disappeared. The only complaint is the heat. All the the North Country people have been apolozing to me for the unsesonaly high temperatures. The highs have been in the low 90s, with humidty to match. The problem with a following wind, is that when you are going the same speed as the wind, the effective airflow across your body is zero. It feels as if you are sitting in a box with the sun beating down on you. Sweat pores out every where but doesn't evaporate, which just increases the discomfort. To cope with such conditions, I've adopted a reward strategy for my body. I tell myself that the next town is "only" 10 or 15 or 20 miles. I tell myself to keep pedelling until I reach the town. Then I reward myself with a 20-64 oz. soda, depending upon what's available and how badly dehydrated I am. I stay in the store until I have cooled down. Then I put on my hot bicycle helmut, get on my bicycle and start pedaling toward the next town. I'll repeat this sequence until I cover about 100 miles and then I start looking for a campsite. So far, this strategy has worked to keep me on-schedule. Luckily, a cold front has moved through and the next few days will be at least 10 degrees cooler, making bicycling bearable again.
My favorite parts of this portion of the Journey have been along the lake shore. The lakes appears as a calm ocean, complete with little breakers along the beach. Its reminiscent of La Jolla Shores in San Diego, where I grew up. In the southwestern portion of the lake there is Bayfield. This is a pretty tourist town with a considerable amount of character. Offshore sit the Apostle Islands, a National Seashore and very scenic. Last night I stayed in a private Campground called Gitchee Gummie, 15 miles east of Marquette. The lakeshore was just across Highway 28, so I spent the late afternoon swimming and sunbathing. Except for the absence of any real surf, I felt like I was at a beach in San Diego. This is one of the very few times I have had a chance to really relax on this "vacation" and I took advantage of it. Alas, my route heads inland and I shall not see Superior again. I shall cross its outlet in a day and a half at Sault Ste. Marie. This will mark my two-thirds point through the Journey and my entry into Canada.
Pete Sturtevant
