Sweden: Trollhattan South

Funny, how sleep becomes unpredictable with jet lag. We were very tired from the journey and went to sleep promptly though it was only afternoon back home (6 hours earlier). Then of course we woke up in the middle of the night when it was time to go to bed back home.

Just got back to sleep when out our 5th floor dormer window "Clang, clang, clang, clang..." I climbed up on a chair, opened the window and peered out into the dark. A deep thrumming, and bright lights moving through a night fog greet me. A bit dazed, it takes a moment to realize that a freighter is passing the tilt bridge next to the hotel. Like a moving building. The Gota turns out to be a busy waterway. We experienced many similar passages - day and night - during our stay, from bulk carriers headed to the alloy plant to construction tugs. Very cool.

The view out our window in the morning was sublime. Fall color still on the trees freshened by the recent rain, the blue sky reflected in the wide river and gutter. Sunday, a good day to explore. Ann had a lot of prep for her lecture on Monday, so I headed out. Up river or down? I saw on the map a large park along the river to the south, so I crossed the canal bridge and hung a left downstream.

Trollhattan has a long history of manufacturing. It remains the home to Saab, Volvo aerospace, and many other industries, including a major historic hydro power station at the falls in Trollhattan. The hydro station is still there and was running full tilt when I happened by - there was no water in the falls at all and the outlets of all the turbines were swirling. Below the hydro plant is a suspension pedestrian bridge carrying hikers to the other bank. Or you can continue onward to the locks. Another day.

I crossed the bridge and headed further down stream, through open woods, a glade, along a stream, a boardwalk, to a ridge. Across the river I could see the locks. The sun, already low, was continuing to drift down, so I turned around so I could be back for dinner with Ann. Passing the bridge without crossing,  I found a staircase leading up the bluff face. It was a bit disconcerting to see a huge indentation in the step grating, obviously from a falling rock. At the top a trail wound ever higher until I could see an overlook cantilevering over the face.

A couple was already at the end looking down the river valley. And here's something interesting about the Swedes. There were a few others waiting to go out for a look. There was plenty of room on the platform, but rather than crowd out as you might see in the US, they were giving each other space and waiting their turn. I wonder if this is a part of the Swedish character?

Once my turn came up, the views up and down river were spectacular. Downriver, the sunset above the gorge, highlighting the suspension bridge I'd crossed earlier far below. Upriver, the city of Trollhattan spread in the distance. It was very cool. I was able to walk along the face of the bluff for a ways on the path watching the valley below before dropping down to a road and bridge crossing the river and bringing me to the falls again and the inlet canal for the hydro plant.

As I walked through the park back to the hotel along the thin spit of land that separates the river from the navigation canal, I stopped at a beautiful red stone church lit by the sunset. The church was given to the people of Trollhattan by the company that built the hydro project a century ago as a thank you for putting up with the disruption of plant construction. Nice gift.

I got back in time to meet Ann and her Swedish colleague, Roland, for Indian food downtown a few blocks from our hotel. It was quite good. So now Thai, Indian, when do we get Swedish food? Well the included breakfasts at the hotel were decidedly Swedish. Make your own musli, dozens of types of yogurt and curdled milk, strong coffee, crepe-like pancakes, lots of fruit, cheese and bread. Even a pot of pickled fish, though I didn't see any Swedes eating it. They were wonderful breakfasts. And the conference organizer, Walter, took us to a very fancy Swedish restaurant in an old mansion on the hillside across the river the next day that specialized in local and Swedish dishes ingredients with a modern interpretation. Great stroemming, super salads, views across the city - thanks guys!

Sweden: Philadelphia to Trollhattan

Philadelphia receding into the distance, at 5 pm we embarked on the next leg of our adventure - an overnight flight to Sweden. After we hopped a subway a block from our hotel in Philadelphia and were deposited directly at the airport (who says you can't find good public transit in the US),  we spend a short night flying against the sun, arriving at Frankfurt at dawn. We'd see a lot of Frankfurt airport this trip. Caught some sleep on airport benches, then boarded the connecting flight to Gothenburg. We were in Sweden!

It already felt like home as we glided in over forests and lakes. We landed outside Gothenburg, but what we really needed to do was get to Trollhattan where Ann was speaking at the Swedish university system's IT conference. A gray, rainy bus ride from the airport to central Gothenburg station, a short dalliance with the wrong ticket kiosk, and tickets in hand we boarded an intercity train headed for Oslo, - first stop,  Trollhattan.

I love riding trains. Partly because trains were part of my childhood - my father has always enjoyed trains and took the family on numerous train adventures. And because on a train you see things up close. Things as they are, not as the tourist bureaus show them, nor from 10,000 or 30,000 feet up. You can get such a feel for a city or a country from its trains.

This train looked pretty fast, but got off to a slow start as it worked through the switches and sidings of industrial Gothenburg. But it was smooooth. Already I was liking Sweden. A sense of order and a passion for quality infrastructure were evident. Even scrap yards looked neat and clean. I was expecting Switzerland later in our trip by reputation to win the Neatness Cup in a blowout, but now it looked to be a horse race. The train picked up pace outside the city limits - now we're talking. Not a bullet train, but easily a match for the best of Amtrack in the East. Neat, clean, quite and efficient.

We traced the Gota Alv river through broad, rich farmland framed by low, rocky, tree covered hills. Passing small towns and tree farms. An hour later we pulled into the Trollhattan station. We were traveling light for our two week European stay - one computer bag and one suitcase each. We dropped them off the overhead, detrained, and started our 8 block walk to the Scandic Hotel. The rain had stopped and the clouds were lifting as we crossed the central plaza. Hungry, we stopped in at a surprisingly good Thai restaurant (3 in 1 block!), then entered our historic hotel, and fell in bed, ready for a night of happy jet lagged dreams.

Philadelphia Again: Walking the Schuylkill

My next outing commenced from where I left off at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and followed the Schuylkill River Trail. Projected to eventually stretch 130 miles along the river, the 11.5 mile segment from Philadelphia to Valley Forge is complete and paved. I joined it at the historic Fairmont Waterworks just below the museum in Fairmont Park.

Fairmont Park is a 4,100 acre urban park along the Schuylkill River. Formed to protect the civic water supply upstream from the waterworks during the industrialization of Philadelphia in the 1860's, it was and continues to be the major outdoor playground in the City of Brotherly Love. There's a path up each side of the river. Being on foot, I wouldn't have time to walk to Valley Forge, but had to settle for a shorter hike to Strawberry Mansion Bridge and back.

The Fairmont Waterworks is an amazing classical revival veneer over a once state of the art industrial pumping operation. First steam, then water power was used to lift water from the Schuylkill to reservoirs and towers above that served the entire city. Eventually, the city water supply moved elsewhere, but the site retains its waterworks as a museum devoted to the civil engineering heritage of Philly.

The dam above the waterworks remains too and provides a perfect impoundment for rowing. Along it is Boathouse Row, the most incredible collection of rowing equipment, architecture and wealth I've ever seen. The UPenn, Drexel, and dozens of local private high schools maintain million dollar facilities for sculling here. It is one big sport. I had the pleasure of seeing them out on their afternoon training.

There are even dedicated stands and a timing building further up-river, with the race lanes marked on the adjoining bridge. This area is serious about rowing. There are also numerous short tunnels through rock outcrops along the trail, as well as heroic 1930's sculpture, massive bridges crossing the valley, and lots of parkland. It would be great for biking too, but it was a fine all day walk exploring.

Philadelphia Again: University of Pennsylvania/Drexel University

It was a rainy day when I set off on my walk to the University of Pennsylvania, west of downtown across the Schuylkill River. But I was on a mission. My Uncle Bob had given me the addresses of the Friends (Quaker) School and house he and my father had attended and lived in for a year with my grandparents while they were between their missions to China and Puerto Rico.

The rain let up mid-morning. It had to be over, no? So I headed out. Not so lucky. Soon I was drenched. But its good to see a city in the rain sometimes - the reflections off the wet pavement, the low clouds clipping the sky scrapers.

University of Pennsylvania has a bit of family history, as both my father and grandfather did post doctorate work there. It struck me as a classic urban campus, with a historic core consisting of a tree shrouded walk lined by historic buildings, and a outer bark of modern high rise dorms and departments and busy urban streets. There was an unusual and interesting diversity of buildings in the historic section of U Penn. One of the great private universities in America, and nice enough to browse through, but not the most beautiful either.

On the shores of the Schuylkill River, it had perfect access to the extensive trail system in Fairmont Park along the river. But that was for another day. Instead I headed north from the university and following my uncle's directions and ran into - Drexel. I never realized Drexel abutted U Penn. Now I knew why the neighborhood is called University City. I found the Friends School (now a community center for Drexel) and the house on a pretty residential street, likely full of Drexel staff and students, and headed back towards downtown.

Crossing the bridge, I came upon a ginormous classical revival building - the Amtrak station. The interior was one of those cavernous spaces that makes all public address announcements unintelligible. And in this case, it lacked the beauty of many big city stations from the heyday of rail.  Mostly it just felt big. I hustled on through and out the other side. There to get a better look of my favorite modern building in Philadelphia. I don't even know what it is called, but its pure, asymmetric form, its pristine reflective glass, its siting away from any tall buildings continually caught my eye, drew me to it, moved me like no other. I still just stare at it. I've got to find out what it is....

Now I walked up the river a ways to the Philadelphia Museum of Art to see the Faces of Jesus exhibit. I arrived at the coat room with a sodden rain coat and water dripping from my jeans. They were very kind and hung my coat to dry.

Rembrandt had revolutionized the depiction of Christ midway through his life by drawing a model from the Jewish community around him instead of hewing to the traditions before based on the iconography of Byzantium. A more naturalistic, human face - more personal. The history of the transformation was interesting, the original studies beautiful, but there was more digressions into influences and art history than I wanted to spend an afternoon with, so I wandered the halls in to the permanent exhibits to see the oriental, impressionist, and modern collections. An afternoon very well spent.

On the way back up Franklin Parkway, I stopped in at one of the other many public buildings that line it - the Rodin museum. The largest collection of Rodin sculptures outside France unfortunately was closed for renovation. Fortunately the sculpture garden was open and better yet, The Gates of Hell, his massive cast door featuring the universally recognized Thinker was displayed in the portico. It towered above me, swirling with motion and brooding. I'm not usually a huge fan of Rodin, but this was amazing. I stood to look a long time. Philadelphia is maybe not New York city or Chicago, but it definitely holds its own with many others in the arts.

Back to the hotel for a hot shower and dinner with my sweetie - our anniversary.

Philadelphia Again: Society Hill/Old City

Ann Explores Elfreth's Alley

We were back in Philadelphia again for the second time this year after a 45 year hiatus. We had just a day or two last time through, enough to explore downtown near city hall and venture down Franklin Parkway to the art museum. This time Ann was here for a conference, so I had almost a week to explore further afield.

One of my favorite finds was the Society Hill and Old City areas near the waterfront, past the National Historic Park and Independence Hall. And thus not so overrun with tourists.

Elfreth's Alley in Old City is one of the oldest remaining residential streets in the country, with homes dating form 1728 to 1836. I felt like I was in Cambridge, England again walking this narrow block. Very cool.

Philly Delaware River Waterfront

Society Hill Neighborhood

Located only a few blocks from the Delaware River waterfront, it was almost lost to urban blight and renewal 60 years ago. It survived the threat, along with much of Old City and Society Hill, and both areas have been beautifully restored. Unfortunately, I-95 sits between the historic neighborhoods and the waterfront, and in some areas completely blocks access. But I did find my way over the bridge and down to the harbor where there were several restored tall ships (one now a floating restaurant), a submarine, a shipping museum, and a waterfront park. Not the best waterfront development I've seen in a major city, but still nice.

Society Hill and Old City are home to some very cute row houses, tree-lined streets, and an amazing variety of churches. There's a wonderful walking tour of the area, with insightful interpretive signs and maps at many corners guiding you through the most religiously pluralistic of the Colonies. So many fleeing religious persecution came to William Penn's colony. For many years in the 18th century, it was the only place in the British Colonies where a Roman Catholic congregation could legally meet. A very early synagogue, (now marked only by its cemetery, though two have since returned to the neighborhood), a Friends meeting house, Congregationalist, Presbyterian, the list goes on.

Mother Bethel

I was surprised and pleased to come upon Mother Bethel, the original African Methodist Episcopalian (A.M.E.) congregation, formed when the first black ordained Methodist minister left the Methodist church over a disagreement on discrimination and segregated seating. Mother Bethel is situated on the oldest piece of land continuously owned by African Americans in the U.S.

A wonderful and historic walk. Society Hill seemed mostly residential, with quaint narrow alleys and lovingly restored homes. Old City especially had plenty of funky storefronts, interesting food, mixed with small businesses and row houses - all a little edgier and a bit less refined. Great compliments to each other and the Historic Park to the west.

Keweenaw Peaks Tour

Drying Feet at the Montreal

Another Marlor Adventures production, awright! Bill's been leading this all-day mountain bike tour of the far northern peaks of Keweenaw County around Copper Harbor for over a decade now, in various guises. Delayed this year by a visit from his dad, we hit a beauty of a weekend - sunny, highs in the 50's, and peak fall color.

Pat handled the logistics this year. Full day riders met in Hancock and loaded bikes and bodies into the 'Burb. Half day riders (me included) headed up separately, all arriving before dawn at the community center in Copper Harbor on the shore of Lake Superior. On the way up the peninsula we hit a low of 30 F at Ahmeek, so we were pretty excited to have the temp rise to 34 F at the Harbor. After suitable sorting of gear, donning of outerwear, and general milling around, we headed up the road to Lake Manganese under stars and the hint of dawn in the east. Just light enough to eschew headlamps and enjoy the sky and each other's shadowy company.

Climbing the crevice at Bare Bluff

Bill had chosen a clockwise route this year, perfect for me since I'd seen the first half of the tour a few years back, and would now get the second half. Unfortunately, that meant a fording of the Montreal River at the chilly start of the ride. Now usually a broad, shallow rocky bottom river fording is an irresistible invitation to see who can get across without coming off their bike, but at 34 degrees and with 11 hours of adventure ahead, we opted for the dry foot option, took off our shoes and waded across. Only Bill had the fortitude to give it a go, making it half way before a graceful dismount. Then he had fortitude AND wet shoes.

Our Fearless Leader pressed on, taking us up two track and down dirt road across the spine of the Keweenaw for a view west of coming attractions: Mount Houghton. Then on to Bare Bluff. With a twist, this year he'd lead us up the east face, not the official access point to the west. Now you're not going to be biking up Bare Bluff, but it's a nice hike. We dropped the bikes in the thimbleberries and headed up a rocky crevice, through a stunted woods, and emerged onto the bluff and a sweeping view of the sunrise over Lake Superior. Better than coffee. Well maybe not for Pat.

The Crew at Bare Bluff

Snacks, scenic contemplation, then down again to the bikes and a push on to Mount Houghton. Most of the peaks in the Keweenaw are long ridges, but Mount Hougton is more of a knob, 1,467 feet high and rising over 800 feet above the lake. Again, there is no ridable route to the top, so we hike up a badly eroded logging road for views both north and south. You can see the Lake and both sides of the Keweenaw from here, Bete Gris and Lac Labelle, our next destination, Mount Bohemia, and future destinations Mount Horace Greely, Mount Baldy, and Brockway Mountain.

Sunrise at Bare Bluff

We're looking forward to bagging our next summit. Mount Bohemia is a bit shorter the Houghton, but has a challenging but ridable service road right to its peak where the chair lifts drop skiers in the winter. To our surprise, there are dozens of people at the summit - the chair lifts are running for the fall color tourists! Normally, we do this ride earlier in the year and have it all to our selves, but this year we happen to have hit peak color - and peak fall tourism. Pat even runs in to his in-laws up there. As the day wears on and the leaf peepers come out, we run into more and more cars and hikers. By the time the crew gets to Brockway Mountain, they run into an entire wedding party at the summit. Comes from having a paved road and excellent views, I guess.

The descent from the top of Bohemia is a rip-roaring blast. We fly all the way down to Lac LaBelle Road, the roar down the tarmac to the DNR boat launch where we're to meet the afternoon riders, Mike, Kathy, Dave, and Kate. It's 12:24, 6 minutes early (nice timing, Bill), so Pat and Jim lead a small crew on a short tour to the Bear Belly Bar and Grill around the point for coffee. By the time we get back, the Abbotts arrive with changes of clothes, lunch, and good cheer.

Bill Takes in View from Mt Houghton

We rest and eat on the warm pavement of the boat launch. Steve and I will be driving Mike and Kathy's car back to Copper Harbor for pick-up at the end of the day and heading south and home. The rest of the crew has 6 more hours of riding and 3 more peaks to go, including the wonderful long single track grind up and down Mount Baldy, the long paved spin along M-26 from Eagle Harbor to Brockway Mountain, and the super single track descent of Brockway on The Flow into Copper Harbor. A pitcher of beer, a pitcher of water and dinner at the Mariner there, and a happy, tired crew heads for home. Another successful tour.

From Mount Boehmia

Lac Labelle Harbor

Peaks Tour Route and Elevation Profile

Door Count Century

After mastering the triathlon, Ann's next goal was a biking century - 100 miles on a road bike. The question was, which one? Door County, Wisconsin's, of course. Recommended by Jim Phelps, a biking colleague of Ann's from Madison, it's only 5 hours away on a scenic peninsula between Green Bay and Lake Michigan, A classic summer tourist region for folks from Milwaukee and Chicago. Land of quaint harbors, sandy beaches, farmland and orchards. Of course. An area we've always wanted to visit but repeatedly drove by on the way to elsewhere. And they serve cherry pie at the finish. Known for cherries, they're even in their logo as the o's in 'Door'. It sounded like our speed too - stops every 16 miles for rest and snacks at numerous waterfront parks and overlooks.

So Ann signed us up, recruited friends Jim and Betsy and Dean and Jan from the Keweenaw, and we began training. Which was almost as much fun as the century, as we ourselves live on a scenic peninsula wrapped in beautiful coastline roads and quaint harbors. Starting at around 30 miles, each weekend we increased the distance. And of course, for a full simulation, we had to stop regularly to eat. Stops in Eagle Harbor for the art fair, Lac La Belle for lunch, Lakes Dairyland in Lake Linden for ice cream, and numerous stops at the Jam Pot near Eagle River (run by local Byzantine Rite monks offering sinful baked goods and jams). When we got to 80 or so miles, and still wanted to stop for food again, we knew we were ready.

Jim Phelps and his wife Ena and dog Lola had been to this event before, and had a favorite pet friendly inn, Cottage Retreat - actually a series of interesting rentals set in field and woods, each unique. We shared an earth roofed duplex set into a hillside with shared entry stairs enclosed by a recycled church door. Very cool. We made breakfasts in our kitchen, hung out in the evenings, and spent the days out and about.

Door County has an interesting split personality. The spine is decidedly rural and agricultural, but the coast and harbors were obviously long time tourist haunts. We went to numerous restaurants with nary a stinker - all were great, and some, like Mr. Helsinki's, were excellent. Art galleries and boutiques abounded in the harbor towns ($7,000 needlepoint anyone? As gorgeous as it was expensive), as did inns and B&B's ensconced in old houses. The harbors were full of expensive boats, and much of the shoreline was lined with expensive private 'cottages' and parks. And pretty busy for being past Labor Day. Definitely a place to go off-season.

The ride started at the beginning of civil twilight, 6:22 AM. Betsy and Jim started early to get a head start - the rest of us started around 7 and worked towards catching up. It was a clear, cool morning, with riders leaving as they arrived. We got off at a pretty good clip up the west coast, and Ann quickly discovered the joys of drafting at speed. So we ran a little pace line, with other riders joining and leaving as our paces matched. The first rest stop was coffee, donuts, and fruit at the shore. Can you beat that? Though Jim and Betsy had been there earlier and Jim still hasn't recovered from the disappointment of no coffee yet when they arrived. 

Each stop had fruit, bars, drinks, and usually sandwich fixings. We caught up with Jim and Betsy at the second rest stop (rather they waited for us), and we continued on together, some riding ahead, others keeping their own company a little back. Jan drove to several of the rest stops to cheer us on and take photos and unwanted gear. They said between the 2,600 bikes and the tourists and rider supporters in cars, the traffic was terrible. It seemed great from a bike - never any problem. We stopped at a high lookout tower, and had to run up for pictures of the coast and the riders below. Several more stops and beautiful harbors, coastline roads hidden by nestled estates and cottages, and we climbed inland into farm country. A loop up near the tip of the peninsula, and back down. As the day progressed we noticed the wind rising. We came back down to the east coast and hit my favorite stop - strawberry shortcake on the harbor. Sweet. 

It was warmer now as we climbed back inland. Ann had challenged me to make the mostly flat ride more challenging at her pace by riding in a single gear, so I had chosen a 53:14 combination early on that worked well at our pace on flats, but we suddenly hit a short, very steep climb. I had ascended a few similar but less steep hills earlier, but this one was too much for my cleats and my shoes kept popping off the pedals. I had to jump off an run up the rest of the hill. In the corn fields it was blowing a pretty good headwind from the south. Jim Phelps and I pulled for Dean and Ann, Jim further back for Betsy. It felt good on the final gentle descent back to the shore as we entered the shade and wind break of trees and felt the cool of the lake. 

One goal left before the finish - the stop at mile 92 for cheese curds. This goal was particular (should I say peculiar?) to Ann. She'd never had cheese curds and decided that 92 miles into a 100 mile ride was the time to try them. I had never tried them either, but then I was bereft of that desire. Unfinished cheese didn't call out to me. But there we were at the historic Coast Guard station, in line for curds. In the end I had to try one. Salty, bland, chewy, and with an interesting squeak. Bleh. You could have them with pickles too (a local tradition?), but I passed in favor of a mound of orange slices. Then on to the finish through a nicely chosen route of residential streets that avoided the state highway crossing by going under the lift bridge and along the harbor to Sturgeon Bay and the county fairgrounds. There was a fun bike expo and pasta feed in the livestock barn (a much nicer space than it sounds), with free drinks, and yes, cherry pie for desert. That was good. Though in the end, it was the strawberry shortcake that I liked best. Maybe we shouldn't call it the Pie Century any more....

Dinner at Julie's Cafe in Fish Creek Harbor was wonderful. The special was Czech roast pork with homemade spetzle, delicious cabbage (I ordered seconds there) and even Czech beer. Was that young waiter with the eastern European accent by chance Czech?

The rest of the crew headed home the next morning, but we hung on into the afternoon to explore some more with Jim and Ena. They took us back to Ephraim (only seen fleetingly by bike the day before) and we played in the water of the harbor with Lola (quite the water dog, Labradoodle that she is), and had a nice lunch at the Chef's Hat. 

It was a great extended weekend vacation with friends, and it was nice to have experienced guides to Door County. It will be fun to go back some day.

Grand Marais Triathlon

After a one year hiatus, we returned to the Grand Marais Triathlon, this year with our friends Joan and Brian Suits and my brother and his family. We'd enjoyed this small, scenic triathlon on the shores of Lake Superior twice before, it always has a great mix of competitors - serious, casual, aspiring, and accomplished. We've watched the carbon bikes and aero helmets riding along side the fat tired beach cruisers and mountain bikes, we've cheered the families competing as teams and the families with infants in tow on all three legs - swim leg towing a raft with baby on board, ride leg with kiddie trailer, and run leg with baby jogger. The swim runs along the sandy shore of the harbor and can generally be walked if you're not too short. The ride follows the twisty, impeccably paved, tree shrouded route into the National Forest and back 14 miles, passing through the quaint town and along the shore of an inland lake. The run is flat and uninspiring from town along a residential road and back covering 3 miles.

This year our team was Ann swim, Jeff bike, and Brian run. Eric and Joan were going solo. Tatiana had to drop out when she wasn't feeling well. So Griffin missed out on the trailer/jogger experience and stayed back to watch with mom.

We stayed in our favorite motel in Grand Marais, the North Shore Lodge on Coast Guard Point. Not that the hotel is anything great, but the location is matchless. Located 2 miles from town between the harbor and Lake Superior next to the old Coast Guard station and backing on to 7 miles of sandy nearly uninhabited beach, it hardly matters as long as it has a roof, walls and a door. We recommend the motel section with external room access. The hotel section is not as nice. Eric and Tatiana had a hilarious problem that windy night with the suspended ceiling. With the windows open, the ceiling tiles would rise and drop 6 inches with each gust, as if the room were breathing. Anyway, it's much nicer to come out your door onto parking lot and dunes than into a dark hallway.

Some of us had supper at the West Bay Diner, a cute, classic stainless steel sheathed diner attached to a wood frame house now itself shiny metal. Fresh baked goods, funky eclectic decoration, pizza, sandwiches excellent breakfasts. A fun place to eat. Carbo loading for race day was never so much fun.

The night of our arrival the weather turned rainy and the wind arrived. For race day it looked cool (50's), cloudy, and very windy, with a chance of rain in the afternoon. Race time was 1:30 PM. The waves on the lake were building, crashing over the breakwater and rolling up the beach. It was glorious. Sunrise peaked between the clouds.

Continental breakfast at the Lodge restaurant, then a walk on the beach, some exploring in town, pick up of race packets, a light lunch, then it was race time. Brrrrrr. Those without wet suits (Eric) shivered as they walked the length of the beach to the start. I hear the water felt warmer than the air. But you can't just stay in. Then the run across the beach and up the long stairs to the transition zone. After Ann's tag, I headed off towards the forest on my bike, passing all manner of mountain and comfort bikes, and being passed by numerous aero bike racers on their carbon fiber steeds. I even got to help one who had passed me earlier, disk wheel humming, put his chain back on at the turn. Coming from mountain biking and being on a standard road bike, I could hold my own on the climbs, but just didn't have the pace on flats or glide on downhills. I think I held a little too much in reserve, and had quite a sprint for the last mile. I should have used up more over the rest of the race. Still, I did ok and moved us up some in the standings. Then Brian took it home on the run, and did a great job holding our place - 3rd among coed teams. Eric arrived at the transition soon after I did, and I joined him for the run. We had a nice run together to the finish. By then it was starting to rain, so we skipped the awards, and headed to dinner at the Lake Superior Brewing Company. Some great beer, nice burgers, and the company of friends and family.

The next morning Joan and Brian headed back, and we took a hike with Eric, Tatiana, and Griffin to Sable Falls and dunes, just outside Grand Marais. A short hike good for Griffin to the dunes, the beach to collect stones, and along the falls and stream. Then ready for a nap in the car and a trip home - at least for Griffin. The rest of us had to drive.

Pictured Rocks

After all these years living in the U.P. (22 now, I believe), we've never taken the boat tour of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore in Munising, Michigan. It's only 2.5 hours from our home in Houghton - we drive through there all the time on the way east and south, but never stopped for the tour. Thank goodness for visiting family. Eric, Tatiana, and Griffin were up and suggested the boat tour as we made our way to Grand Marais for the triathlon there. Brilliant!

It was a cool grey day, but the rain held off as we boarded the boat of late summer tourists. The rocky bluffs are full of eroded nooks and arches, and stained with tans and blacks and oranges and reds dissolved from the groundwater and deposited on the stone. The captain kept up an entertaining narrative about the natural history of the rocks, then a park ranger gave a history of the rocks, lake, and shipwrecks, culminating with a loopy reading of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald". 

It was fun finally seeing this scenic wonder in our own backyard with family. Griffin like it (as evidenced by the picture below) - mostly the running back and forth on the boat part.