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.

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.

Tractors and Water Bottles Don't Mix

Discovered today that a partly filled Klean Kanteen 40 oz. bottle can support a 5,000 lb Kubota L4400 tractor, but not without some deformation. Still holds water - amazing.

Jim says blue's kind of hard to see in the grass. Likely story. I bought red this time...

Sierra-Cascade Trip: Reno to Missoula, MT

 Abert Rim, OR

With fresh oil and rotated tires, I headed north. The fastest way home would have been east on I-80, but I've always wanted to see southern and eastern Oregon and Washington, and I'd already seen central Nevada on the way in. North it was on US-395, which seems to be the main Great Basin north-south route.

One of the best surprises of the trip was just across the Oregon border where looming in the distance was the a great, shadowed escarpment. I'd never heard of this, but it was spectacular. The Abert rim is one of the highest escarpments in the US, and borders Lake Abert, a saline lake with a bountiful brine shrimp ecology. The sun was setting, the clouds dramatic, and I had it all to myself. This was some remote road. I saw barely 5 cars from the southern border to the northeast Blue Mountains that evening. Lots of pictures again.

Lake Abert, OR

Snake River Canyon near Pullman, WA

I'd never heard of the Blue Mountains of northeast Oregon, but I spent the night sleeping in the car at a National Forest campground there, and it was a fine drive the next day. Modest peaks of 5,000 feet clad in ponderosa and high valleys of hay and cattle. A nice, unnoticed (at least by me) corner of the country. I made the theme of this part of the trip western colleges and universities. I swung through La Grande, Oregon to see Eastern Oregon (not much to look at but a scenic valley), then north to drop into the Columbia River valley, then up the Walla Walla river to Walla Walla (following a semi loaded with crates shedding what seemed to be paper, I realized it was tons and tons of Walla Walla onions!) a prosperous and pretty town hosting Whitman College (an great liberal arts college where our niece Brynn attended). 

Then north to Pullman, Washington to see Eastern Washington University by driving up another section of the Snake River Canyon. Couldn't believe it when I saw two moose in the middle of the road is this arid climate. Pullman is set in the Palouse - a region of steep, random hills of deep, fertile, windblown topsoil - there were gorgeous fields of wheat in colorful bands of different maturities wrapping the mounded slopes. Entering town was a banner advertising the National Lentil Festival (no kidding). The region is known for wheat and lentils. The university was scenically perched on the top of some of these steep hills, with many elevated walkways spanning the roads between buildings. Nice.

Washington State, Pullman

I then drove the 8 miles to its sister city, Moscow, Idaho, home of the University of Idaho. Interestingly, as I headed east towards the mountains and left the Palouse, the terrain flattened, so that Moscow was much flatter, and the university more sprawling. The downtown had a couple interesting eateries, but I stopped at Gnosh, a new place that offered small samples of many foods, wine, and beers. I was driving so I skipped the drinks, but had a great dinner of one of each of their wonderful salads, with a side of plantain chips. The chef must have felt sorry for me eating all those greens and figured me for a lost vegetarian (they had lots of meat options), and sent out a delicious complimentary plate of still-hot deep fried chickpeas that were wonderful with my final salad. Great place to east if you stop in Moscow some time.

Gnosh,  Moscow, ID

I wanted to get home before Friday, and had driven I-90 many times, so I headed north at sunset along Coeur d'alene Lake - a beautiful drive. I hit I-90 at dark and drove till I was over the pass into Montana (an exciting stretch of road for an interstate), then spent the night in the car again at a truck pull-off along a roaring river nestled between the peaks of the Rockies. You could see the marks on the mountainside from the shores of the ancient glacial Lake Missoula, a giant lake that repeatedly filled and drained over 2,000 years, scarring large parts of northern Idaho and Washington.

In the morning I dropped in at Missoula for some 6 am coffee. Missoula is my favorite town in Montana. Home of the University of Montana, on the banks of the Clark Fork River, it has the outdoors in abundance, and active arts and education community. Refreshed my memories of town on foot before the day started, then headed out again. Two days of driving ahead, then home - the big push was on.

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