Lake Superior Shore Ride

Looks like the Lake Superior Beach Ride first we scouted last year is becoming an annual event. Last year ridden as a point-to-point from Ontonagon to Houghton in Michigan's Upper Penninsula, this year we rode the most scenic segments as part of a loop starting and ending at Misery Bay. Simplified logistics and all the best discoveries of last year on this remote beach -what's not to like?

The riding started as a fast paced cruise west from Misery Bay to the shore north of Ontonagon along Camp Road 17. I decided to single speed it this year, making me the laggard on this fairly flat dirt road section. My gearing was much more appropriate once we hit the beach and ledge stone sections along the shore.

The tan sands that collect in each bay here are a good consistency for riding at the waterline with very little sinking of the bike tires. Too far into the water or above the water and the sand is unstable. And, as last year, the weather was perfect - 60's and sunny with a light north west wind. A Goldilocks day. Too much wind would drive the waves too high for a reliable shoreline and too little would leave too narrow a damp zone. You can fly on these sections.

On the shoreline points, gorgeous flat sandstone abounds. It's like riding broken pavement with curb-like drops and pops. West to east it's mostly drops, hence our chosen direction. It's always exciting finding your line, avoiding crevices, dodging logs and sand pools. Often a small bluff or cobbles on the upper shore forces you to ride in the water. This generally works very well 3, 6, even 12 inches deep. Again moderate winds are crucial.  As is a reasonable lake level. Both were near ideal again this year. 

The first surprise this year is how much more skid pad algae there was. Under the shallow water on the sandstone ledges lurks a nearly invisible creature that repels bicycle wheels. You can rarely see it, but you know when it's there - usually as you pick yourself up out of the water. Once off the bike, it was only marginally easier to walk on. It was there last year, but it was everywhere this year. Maybe it was the warmer lake. You can ride it if you avoid turning, braking, accelerating - any of the things you do to stay on a bike. 

The first landmark and break is the 14 Mile Point lighthouse. A beautiful ruin of a building. I wish my house had such detailing: fine brickwork, stone corners and lintels, tile entries, iron railings. Of the classic duplex style construction, it had burned sometime in the past, but still projected a stately presence over the fronting sandstone beach. Wild berries had taken over the yard. WE had a feast. You can still see the ruined storage building nearby with the sign "Caution: Kerosene Storage" and walk around the boarded-up signal house at the shore. Incredibly we found a census document taped to the signal house last year. Some intrepid government contractor had trekked out to this lonely point to check for habitation.

Second surprise. I suddenly see one of the guys up on top of the tower. Last year the iron spiral stairs to the tower dangled, dangerously incomplete, from the upper floor. They still do this year,  but some adventuresome soul has tipped a wooden palette washed up the beach against the wall to gain access to the second floor, then built a driftwood ladder from there to the bottom of the spiral stairs, which in turn hang 10 degrees off plumb from the iron floor above. I had some misgivings about climbing up there, but hey, the guys before me weight more than me, so I should be good, right? And I knew I'd have regrets if I didn't join this adventure and catch the view from above.

There's nothing creepier than climbing a tilted spiral stair. I certainly felt like a character in Myst, the otherworldly video game of odd worlds and off-kilter ruins. A second iron short ladder from the third floor lead through a hatchway to the top of lighthouse. The entire top of the lighthouse, including the floors, barrel, and dome, were of iron. It was wonderful walking along the rail outside taking in the view of the coast and the ruins below.

After we'd clambered down, we set off again. More sandstone beds and fine beaches greeted us. We finally came to a sandy road leading from the beach and began our second side trip. This time to a 200 foot suspension bridge hidden deep in the woods. Accessible only by single track, and secured to trees and scrap steam pipe, it is a wonder to behold - and a bit disconcerting to cross. It's hard to walk, being very prone to sway by center span. And it's hard to ride. The rails are right at handlebar level, have sharp clamps along them, and if you deviate in the slightest from the center line the bridge tips you to the outside. A couple more accomplished riders made it part way across pedaling, some coasted and held the rail. I opted for a less graceful walk with my bike rearing up before me.

This is such a scenic and unusual bike tour. Much on unprepared surfaces at the junction of lake and sky. With historical and fantastical attractions waiting to be explored. Just incredible. I hope to make it again next year.