Day 91 Bay City to Caro 75km

I lacked the proper attitude to make today a good day, I blame the weather. Windy never makes for good cycling, windy and cold is just demoralising, windy, cold and without a plan is a recipe for dissatisfaction. The plan we did have, for breakfast, was the best part of the day! But before breakfast, despite rumbling stomaches, it seemed ridiculous to ride all this way and not actually make the effort to see Lake Huron. The locals, who obviously know better, were absent, but we trudged through the sand, into a blustery and frigid north wind, to view, another lake so big you have to see it to believe it.



Bay City was difficult to find our way into, roadwork, impassable bridges, bike paths that have disappeared all seemed to conspire against us. By the time we pull up at 'The Stock Pot' diner we are both cold, grumpy and ravenous. Luckily we chose the right place for recovery, a proper 1950's style diner, complete with booths, rock'n'roll, friendly waitresses and big serves. The waitress seems dubious that we will manage to eat all that we order. An hour later, full of fried eggs (over medium), hash browns, bacon, sausage, toast, bottomless cups of coffee and two big serves of French toast we send our plates back licked clean. We are reluctant to move from our warm corner booth, and find an excuse to linger in the form of Jack and Dan, a couple of local blokes with plenty of enthusiasm and curiosity. Our lack of a plan, or genuine commitment to a rest day, finds us crisscrossing town, searching first for the library, then for the post office. This procrastinating done, it is two in the afternoon when we decide we should put some miles on the clock. Those few miles turn out to be more than forty, as we zig zag our way over back country roads, alternating between the joy of tail wind and the hell of gusty side winds. Just us, the flats, the wind and the corn.



The only campground for miles, is approached in what seems like a circuitous manner on the map, until you ride it and realise the reason you can't go straight there is the big jail you have to go around. I especially liked the roadsigns advising that due to the local prison "do not pick up hitchhikers"! Do they have that many escapees that these signs are necessary??? Our relief at reaching the campground before dark was tempered by a kind of inner cringing horror of the antics of the campground owner, who fulfilled all the very worst of cruel American cliches. A man so large, he used a golf cart to move about his campground, it seemed a chicken and egg conundrum, did refusing to walk even short distances make him so large, or did the largess come first, making the golf cart a practicality? I could relatively easily cope with this one gross cliche but when we then witnessed him chasing some beautiful canada geese from his property, whilst still aboard the golf cart, pulling out a pellet gun and proceeding to shoot at said peaceful birds the feeling of horror was overwhelming. I hope that tomorrow brings a better attitude, and revenge for the geese. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad