Boyne City, Mi. To Mackinaw City, Mi.: To The Mighty Mac

September 13, 2020

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Before we speak a single word about today’s ride, stop the presses! Yesterday you’ll remember my glee in discovering the word “snood,” which some corner of the internet informed me was the “red, fleshy appendage that hangs from a turkey’s neck.” Fascinating. Last night, drifting off to sleep, I snapped awake. “Wait a minute! Isn’t that called a ‘wattle’?” This morning a second internet turkey check took me to the “Modern Farmer” web site. Prepare to have your minds blown:

Snood: The fleshy appendage that extends OVER the turkey’s beak!

Wattle: The fleshy appendage hanging FROM the neck or chin of the turkey!!

Caruncle: The warty protuberances on the head of a turkey!!!

Breast Beards: A Clump of slender, fibrous feathers on the chest of a turkey!!!!

So many appendages and protuberances! So many highly specific words for each. Again, may I emphasize, SO! MANY! APPENDAGES! Ick. So, use those words appropriately and don’t make a fool of yourself calling a neck appendage a snood when its actual a wattle. I think that original source misdefining a snood must have been some sort of Turkey Q-Anon site.

What? Oh! Yeah, this is a bike journal .... Hang on.

We woke to an enthusiastic newsflash from Mother Nature this morning. “Get up you two! I’m going to rain some more! Don’t miss it! Such fun.” Such a chipper greeting. “Mmmrg.....” was our response, pillows held over our faces, refusing to face the day. No amount of staring at the weather apps (two of which insisted there was no rain in Boyne City at that very moment) could erase the reality that, clearly, it was raining. We dawdled. We hit the 7 AM snooze button twice. We laid there 10 more minutes. At 7:30 I finally oozed out of bed, dressed and went to the front office for the free cinnamon role and chocolate chip cookie breakfast (I must say, yum!). At 9:40, having prepared at a sloth-like pace, we looked at each other and agreed, sadly, we should put on the rain gear. We did, and after cruising down to the post office to mail Marg’s art cards to family and friends, peddled into the grey, drizzly day.

The Thrill Is Gone With This Riding in The Rain Thing.

It seems that whatever sins we had committed to deserve all this precipitation had been absolved by 11 AM. The rain stopped. After holding our breath for a few miles we realized it might truly be done. This was welcome news, and the fact that there was a 15 mph wind from the west and the dark grey sky had only changed to a light grey sky still seemed like the arrival of summer.

In Petoskey we swooped into a grocery store with a Starbucks kiosk inside. A Cappuccino and a lemon cake slice were ingested in short order and the day was looking even better. There is a bike path from Petoskey all the way round the bay to Harbor Springs and it made for relatively trouble free riding. No cars to fret about, obviously, but whoever designed the path in town decided to shape a small one inch “curb” at each spot the trail intersected with an actual road crossing or even a driveway. The effect was to create a series of mini-speed bumps that caused the bikes and gear to make a huge “Ka-Thunk” at every crossing. Oh we were cursing the engineer who designed the crossings. I guarantee he or she is not a biker. No biker would have created such an affront to a supposed “bike-friendly” path. Grrr ... We Ka-Thunked our way around the bay to Harbor Springs

At that point the sun made a grand entrance ... “Hi everybody! Sorry I’m late! We can start now!!” Yeah, thanks Sol. Where have you been the last 36 hours? All the rain gear made it way too warm so we stopped to shed some layers. When I peeled my rain pants off I took a gander at my biking “tights.” These lightweight tights are at least 15 years old and have lost so much of their tautness that it seems ridiculous to refer to them as “tights.” Marg said I look like “Mr. Droopy Drawers.” Perhaps a better description of them now would be “athletic bloomers.” Unfettered from our layers we rode through Harbor Springs.

Mr. Droopy Drawers Displays The New Trend In Athletic Bloomers

Harbor Springs looks to be the height of northern lake shore affluence. On a road directly across from the lake shore are houses that are both astoundingly beautiful and laughably large, looking like anchored aircraft carriers. Marg and I were torn between admiring the architecture and simply shaking our heads at the massive structures that could house and shelter a small nation’s population. People are more than entitled to spend their money as they wish, but 10,000 square feet for a family home? Yikes.

But onward ...

Remember how I mentioned the amazing transformation of Hwy C-48 yesterday? Well, sadly, I met C-48’s horribly disfigured little brother whom the family kept chained in the basement and told the neighbors was living with relatives in another state. He goes by many aliases: Gill Road, Cecil Park Road, and most sadly, Wilderness Park Road. He is a potholed, scarred and twisted mess. The only “safe” line for a cyclist to follow on some of those stretches is directly down the yellow center line, about which drivers seem to become quite irritated. He seems not to have been re-paved since the Eisenhower administration. I actually believe the county road commissioner long ago spilled a large cup of coffee on the master road map, and so badly stained and wrinkled the section with these roads on it, he’s now completely unaware they exist. So C-48’s little brother slips deeper and deeper into a pockmarked, eroded and unmaintained existence. His only pass time is to elicit anger and frustration from passing bike tourists. I mean, he’d love life so much more if his only issue was having a snood, wattle, caruncle or some other fleshy appendage. Poor guy.

The Road of Good Intentions is Paved With Potholes, as is Gill Road.

But for us there was a happy ending, pulling into Mackinaw City, “The Tip O’ The Mitt.” Mack City is an interesting combination of backwoods off-the-beaten-path charm combined with an overlay of heavy duty tourist trap. Mackinac Island is a big draw here, as is the Mackinac Bridge, AKA “Big Mac.” For us it was a worthy turn-around point for the trip. We are staying at the Riviera Motel, and what a view we have! Fun Fact: The owner is a native Venezuelan who was visiting the area three years ago, saw it was for sale, and bought it! His 16 year old niece, who lives in Florida, was up for the summer (and now fall I guess) to help run it. There’s an interesting story there for sure, but other people wanted to check in and we were whacked from the day’s ride. Another day perhaps.

Welcome to Mack City, With The Mackinac Bridge in the distance

Thanks for reading!

Today's ride: 70 miles (113 km)
Total: 251 miles (404 km)

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