Yesterday was a pretty short day as long-haul bike touring goes — I shortened it to 47 miles after feeling pretty spent from my battle with Monday’s winds. The day was quite overcast, and very cloudy, but the wind had died down significantly. There was the threat of rain for much of the day, but it never quite came to pass. I didn’t camp last night due to the possibility of overnight rain and storms. Instead I holed up in the Grand Rapids Super-8, where I slept like a log.
filtered view of sky, trees, water, Johnson Lake, Itasca County, MN
In the morning I got going pretty late after a rather fitful night. Some racoons had awakened me at around 2am, and I found it mildly difficult to get back to sleep after that. I finally hit the road around 9, remembering that there was a full 7 miles of riding back into the town of Bigfork where I could get some breakfast at the place simply called Pizza Parlor, although it was also a dining room and general purpose cafe — the only one in town. As I rolled up, a weathered man of maybe 70 (it was hard to tell) looked me directly in the eye from his place on a bench outside the cafe and said in a deep but shaky voice, “Like sands through the hourglass. So are the days of our lives.” “You got that right,” I replied. He’d said it almost liturgically, as if it required a response, or was of particular weight in that moment. I went inside the cafe and ordered breakfast.
Patriotic child art from inside Bigfork’s Pizza Parlor.
Breakfast was huge, and it took a little while to both prepare and consume. Meanwhile I observed the collection of patriotic art by local children which adorned one of the walls. The children’s’ liberal intermixture of national and Christian symbols suggested a theocratic politics, or perhaps a nationalist Christianity. A kind woman in the cafe saw me there and asked about my trip as a means to tell about the time, many years ago that she’d done RAGBRAI. I love it when people tell me about their own past tours — and it happens a lot. Already three people in two days have told me about their past rides: a man who road from the Twin Cities to Yellowstone with friends after high school graduation, the RAGBRAI woman, and another man who’d crossed the country. Sometimes you can tell (especially if they’re older) that they would love to ride away with you at that moment.
Speaking of riding, I did actually do some of that too, covering the remaining 40 miles to Grand Rapids in about 3.25 hours of riding time — not too bad for the extent of what I’m carrying. Minnesota 38 between Bigfork and here has sections which aren’t all that big on shoulder, but remain crowded with construction and logging trucks. If you’re reading this in search of a route, I don’t recommend the road, which is also somewhat hilly in parts. Dangerous situations are possible. The guys at Itasca Trail Sports in Grand Rapids recommend staying in Highway 6, and in retrospect they were right … But everything went well and before long the road opened up again into a shouldered, wide highway with massive amounts of space. Before long I was in Grand Rapids, crossing the Mississippi under gloomy skies and humidity.
Fishing below the power plant on the Mississippi in Grand Forks, Minnesota.
Summer, like life, is short. So it’s important I think to maximize time in the saddle during these months where the days are long and the touring possibilities are many. This summer so far my riding time has been limited, and I’ve been somewhat geographically scattered due to work, but I’ve made an extra effort to work cycling into as many of my movements as possible, wherever I go. Here are some thoughts on that theme, and an update on a few rides I’ve taken lately and haven’t written anything about:
I think a sort of seasonality is part of the human tradition, at least for people who don’t live near the equator. For my own part I know that I adjust my internal clock and schedule during the summer — I’m more active, awake more, and more energetic. My cycling habits change too — I feel like doing more miles and more rides.
Like most people, my job doesn’t allow me to pause for any particular season. In fact, I tend to travel for work a bit more in the summer months than at other times. Luckily my job sometimes takes me to interesting places, and I’m occasionally even able to add a few days onto a trip here or there to make the cycling more interesting (as I did in France).
for business travel, I’ve found that almost anywhere of any size that you can fly (or at least where I have recently) there are great places to rent serviceable touring bikes. I’m on my way back from Scotland now (more on that in a minute) where this was super easy to set up. Paris was the same.
unless you’re the owner of one of those cool folding touring bikes (I’m not) shipping or flying with a bike, while not impossible, can be difficult and expensive, especially internationally. Inside the US, it can be more realistic to bring your large bike, but still for business travel (which for me tends to last about a week usually) this still represents a lot of overhead.
an indispensable item for me has been a set of traveling panniers that double as cary-on-able luggage. Ortlieb makes several examples of this sort of bag, which will come with shoulder straps, a really great quick-release mounting system that pretty much fits any bike, and a 5-year guarantee. This isn’t the only way to pull off portable bike luggage (I can imagine, for example packing traditional panniers in a compressible duffel) but if you can swing for the really good panniers with straps, I’d recommend it.
My bike and baggage on the Clyde in Glasgow. At the time, I was about to do 30 miles in a strong headwind on very little sleep. Oof.
So anyway … with those notes out of the way, where have I been riding this summer so far? Post-France, it was important to me to keep in the saddle and in shape for the rest of the summer, so in addition to some rides around Seattle I did somewhat of a repeat of a trip I did up the John Wayne trail through Iron Horse State Park. This is the route that departs from North Bend/Snoqualmie and continues all the way to the Columbia River and beyond. This time I rode up the hill after work one Friday, camped just beyond the pass at one of the state backcountry sites up in that area. These sites are very primitive, with no running water, but aside from a few mosquitos, it was a pleasant sleep.
Dusk, before bed at Keechelus Lake, east of Snoqualmie pass.
The next morning I linked up with my other half, who had driven up the pass with our dog. We spent a the next day and a half meandering through the cascades on a warm summer weekend, me hitching rides and sometimes cycling. After Cle Elum we crossed over Blewett Pass and then over Stevens (I didn’t ride all of the passes) and I finished early on Sunday by drifting down the Skykomish valley on Highway 2, which I found to be particularly pleasant before the traffic started up for the day.
early morning near the town of Skykomish
The following weekend I was due to fly to Scotland for a team meetup at work. Since we were meeting in Dunoon, a little town about 35 miles west of Glasgow, it was easy enough to arrange for a touring bike to be waiting for me in Central Glasgow when I got off the plane (shout out to Joe and his staff at Gear Bikes — they do a great job.) The only concern I’d had about riding for a couple hours that afternoon was the fact that I don’t sleep super well when flying, and was therefore looking at some exertion on little or no sleep. And while I’m not sure I’d fly overnight and then immediately bike in every circumstance (or in every city) it worked fine in Glasgow, due in part to the excellence of the British cycling network. I was able to get from the middle of the city, out the through the suburbs and over the fields to my destination on the coast while remaining on single-use bike paths for 90% of the ride. The signage (and ok, sure, the British are fond of their signage) was particularly amazing, with every turn and confusing junction excellently explained. This is often the worst part of getting in and out of a city on a bicycle — the lack of a clear, not to mention dedicated, route. This can lead to annoying situations: dead ends, limited access roads, and actual danger … so much so that I think I’m going to come up with a page or two about how to correctly and safely get in and out of my own city (Seattle) after having to figure out so many others. But in the UK there’s no need for such posts — just follow the red white and blue signs. Amazing.
A signpost in suburban Glasgow
While at my work meetup, it was possible to get out and do a bit of riding around the Loch we were staying on and a little bit up and down the valleys surrounding Dunoon and the southern reaches of Loch Lomond National Park. I invited some co-workers to come with me on a couple of occasions, which was fun. For the most part it was shore-riding along flat and not-overly trafficked roads, though there was some fun climbing in a nearby valley as well. Scotland is a place to which I’d love to return on a bicycle … amazing stuff.
A typical single-track road in a valley near Loch Tarsan in ScotlandThe Holy Loch from a ferry
I’m now on my way to Minnesota for a week of not-working and riding. I pledge many more updates about that! I’ll be mostly camping and riding through the Great North Woods from the Canadian Border to the Twin Cities. Gratitude.
