July 10, 2025
PAGE EIGHT: Day Three. Part Two
A Questionable Edge
Transitioning From A.M to P.M.
To refresh your memories, I abruptly ended the first part of my Day Three report with several paragraphs about my view-blocker issues. I had fun with a little improvised writing and thought it was a good idea at the time.
Today I still liked what I wrote about my personal hangup, but I think I only liked it because I'm me. If I wasn't me, I might have clicked the X in the upper right-hand corner of the computer screen and shouted, "adios dude."
Since I AM me, I came back to write more of the same. I hope you can handle it.
Sometime Around Noon . . .
. . . I arrived at my next off-bike adventure opportunity. The Yellow Dog River has a spectacular waterfall.
FLASHBACK: Circa 1980, a college friend asked, "Wanna do something Hemingwayesque?" I must have replied in the affirmative, because the next thing I knew we were driving in his rusty Volkswagen Beetle up the same road I've been cycling on today. We parked and hauled some beer (maybe some pot too) through the woods. All I can remember is being mesmerized by the power of the relatively small river flowing through the rocky channel.
You can't imagine how excited I was to revisit the Yellow Dog Falls for the first time since those carefree days.
If you're not looking for it, you would never know you were approaching such a sacred place in Greg-World. There is no signage at all. I would have passed right over the Yellow Dog River bridge without notice if it wasn't for a small, empty, dirt parking lot on the left side of the road.

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I did lock my bike though and proceeded up the trail.
Ah yes, the trail. It's a little more trodden than the trail I remember from 45-years ago, but it's also as tourist-free as I remember from 45-years ago. The falls can be found on Google Maps and other mapping apps, but I don't think many people go there. It's far from any paved road, it's in the U.P. of Michigan for god's sake, and it requires a little hiking to get there.

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Once again, I found my bike right where I left it. For the first time ever, I wasn't even worried about it. I had only seen about 30 cars all day, and I couldn't imagine that even one of the drivers ventured out here with bolt cutters on the off chance he or she might find a touring bike to steal.
It was time to move on. I expected more miles of the pleasantly flat dirt road all the way back to Marquette. Unfortunately, after 45 years, I had forgotten how hilly County Road 510 was. I sure don't remember hills while I was a passenger in my friend's Volkswagen. I know about the hills now.

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After the Yellow Dog River, there was a steady climb for what seemed like 80 miles, but I'm sure it was much less than that. The dirt and gravel made it seem longer than it really was. Still, when I looked at the Ridewithgps map at the end of the day, I could see I had ascended even higher than G-2 Pass.
It was getting pretty hot, but the shade of the view-blockers made it less so. "Thank goodness for view-blockers," I said to myself. I kept pumping my legs while taking two pictures and a video without stopping.

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I was still feeling the edge during the filming of my video, but the edge deteriorated quickly afterward. I felt out of shape after climbing in all that dirt and gravel. Where's the edge in that?
My edgy decision to not bring a cell phone charger came to bite me in the ass. My phone had been sending me warnings that I was down to 17% . . . 10% . . . 5%. I decided to turn off the phone and save whatever power I had left for only something very picture worthy.
The most depressing thing is that the dirt road widened out and turned into hot, dusty, washboard gravel. The RidewithGPS map of my route on the previous page considered that wide gravel section to be paved. Um, NOPE! RWGPS cheated me out of the worst five or six miles of gravel of the day.
Okay, that might not have been the MOST depressing thing. More depressing was that a couple of septic tank service trucks blew by me and blasted dust into my eyes. "Not cool, dudes," I yelled. I'm pretty sure they didn't hear me.

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I wish I could have taken a video when I arrived at the intersection right before my Best Western hotel. I came to a stop sign, stood on my pedals, and waved a car to my right to cross before me. I could see the driver waving for me to go first. I shook my head and rolled my arm for him to go first. He had the right of way, after all. I stood my ground and, without stepping off the pedals, watched him proceed. He nodded as he passed.
I often stop at stop signs and stop lights without putting a foot down, but this time I felt pretty good about doing so with only one hand on the handlebars and the other hand waving.
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That brings me to the end of my short bike trip. All that's left is the Grand Sweeping Conclusion.
Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 10 |
Comment on this entry | Comment | 8 |
Good trip even if a bit short.
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