I was up early having had a good night’s sleep and had a leisurely breakfast of Grape Nuts while listening to my radio and reading some of the material I got yesterday on the I&M Canal. I packed up my kit and went over to use the phone just to confirm things with my hostess in Michigan. There were two women using the phone trying to call Hungary. I am off to a conference in Hungary and the organisers wanted (what I thought to be) an excessive amount for the accommodation. They confirmed that the proposed costs were excessive and suggested I talk with the fellow who was accompanying them since he was from Budapest.

His name was Atillla "like Atilla the Hun" he said, and he was chatting with two businessmen from Chicago who were staying in their RV overnight on their way home. They were also keen cyclists, but not when it comes to trans-American trips. They had a female boxer dog with them which excited Atilla’s male Labrador dog to no end. Atilla was able to suggest a good hotel and gave me the phone number of an old girlfriend of his in Budapest who would also be willing to help. We chatted for a while and he showed that even Hungarians can get a bit mixed up when it comes to geography: ‘My dog is from your part of the world, it is a Labrador’. I pointed out that Newfoundland was in Canada while New Zealand was near Australia, but perhaps it was due to his English …

I had a relatively short day cycle wise. I was heading up to Berrien Springs where I would stay with a friend and have a rest day on Sabbath. It was about 100 km at the most from where I was so I decided to do a bit of exploring. I cycled down to the lake at Beverly and admired the beach. It stretched as far as I could see up and down the coast, although the southern view was marred by the major steel mills just down the way. I hadn’t appreciated how nice the beaches were on Lake Michigan and given the proximity to Chicago they must have some good pollution control measures in place.

I cycled along ‘Lake Front Drive’ and admired the houses. They were almost without exception huge houses, what we would call mansions in N.Z. There was a definite air of money in the area, and they also had very expensive imported cars. I saw the sign below which was a first for me, obviously the owner had it custom made as it is not in any catalogue of traffic signs that I have ever seen!

As I’ve come to expect, there were lots of trees about and the houses that were not facing the lake were nestled in these beautiful tree-lined settings. I saw a deer with two young ones cross the road ahead of me and so there must be a wonderful range of wildlife in the area. I thoroughly enjoyed my exploring but eventually I had to move on so joined Highway 12 and cycled towards Michigan City.

Just on the outskirts of Michigan City I came to ‘Mt. Baldy’. This is a massive sand dune which is "live" in that the marram grass and cottonwood trees cannot hold it in place. Each year it moves and will eventually inundate the nearby forest. There were once other dunes adjacent to it, but they were mined away early in the century. I had heard about it but didn’t appreciate just how bit it was until I parked my bike and walked towards it through the forest. Suddenly you see this absolutely massive pile of sand towering above the tops of the trees. It was really impressive. I climbed to the top and took the photo below, but it really doesn’t do it justice. Suffice to say that it is quite an amazing sight.

I cycled into Michigan City which was nothing special. They had a museum in the old lighthouse so I went to that, having missed my fix of museums over the last week, but it was unfortunately closed. Rather than continue on Highway 12 I followed the lakeshore drive. This consisted of a virtual continuum of houses and beach cottages all the way into Michigan. I passed people sunning themselves, walking, cycling going to/from the beach. It had an air of a summer community on holiday.

One aspect to my travels around the U.S.A. has been the wide range of mailboxes that I’ve observed. While many seem to accept the run-of-the-mill, there are others who are quite creative with their mailboxes. The following are photos of a few of these, but I’ve seen many more. They’ve ranged from tractors and bulldozers to airplanes and animals. Football fans have had them in the shape of helmets with their local teams logos on them. The stands have been pumps like below through augurs to cam chains from heavy machinery. It really is amazing to see.

In some places the houses were huge beyond description. The road I was following turned into a private road with lots of signs prohibiting trespassing etc. I of course ignored them and happily cycled through, and it was worth it. These were the nicest houses and the road was a beautiful tree lined promenade as the photo below shows.

I passed an elderly gentleman out for a run. He must have been 70 and ran really stiffly, but I was impressed that he was out there. He was wearing a ‘Fletcher Marathon’ T-shirt so I asked if he was from N.Z. No, but he had been down there a number of times and run in a variety of races. Small world. Later on, while having a break, an elderly woman came up and gave me directions as she said that the road ended up ahead. She too was running, but she didn’t have the physique of the gentleman and I suspect that it was a relatively recent undertaking. Perhaps the scar that ran all the way up her front had something to do with it.

Those of you who have been following my trip will realise that I find certain aspects of Americans enigmatic. One of them is what seems to be an almost complete indifference to what other people may think. This is particularly true in beach areas such as this where I saw some of the fattest people in the skimpiest swim suits. In one sense I guess it’s good that they are apparently comfortable with how they look, in another sense it is very off putting.

There was no sign welcoming me to Michigan but I knew I was here by the sudden change in pavement quality which has accompanied every transition between states. Following my woman runner’s suggestion, I headed inland and then followed a road parallel to the railway line. It had an excellent surface and no traffic so it was a pleasure to ride, although I could have done without this headwind that seems to be following me everywhere.

The road eventually ended and I found myself back on Highway 12. I had lunch in New Buffalo, which was another seaside resort, and then continued following the lake as best I could towards the north. I had varying degrees of success but in the end I gave up and went on the main road which ran parallel to the Interstate. This part of Michigan is almost bereft of signs so one has to ask directions frequently, and hope they are correct.

I came to Warren Dunes park and went in to have a look at the dunes. They were also massive, as the photo below hopefully conveys. The small things on the hill are people. The dunes are so high that people hang-glide off them. I parked by the lunch bar and was incredulous at the array of food being eaten by the beach patrons. I don’t know how someone can have an ice cream and a coke at the same time … I’d overload on sugar. And these were pre-teen children!

From there I continued north to Bridgman where I turned east towards Berrien Springs. On the way the road was full of antique shops so this must be a very popular place for buyers. I had been advised which road to take which was a good thing as there were no signs. It was up and down with a headwind so I didn’t enjoy the ride and was quite tired when I got to Berrien Springs. So much so that I fell off my bike in the centre of town when I crossed a lane where they had milled the pavement. My own &%(@ fault as I was just not paying attention. Fortunately the only problem was a scratch, a couple of sore muscles, and a big dent in my pride.

I called Joan Standish and she gave me excellent directions to her house which, in my tired state, I got muddled so I cycled right by and up the road about a kilometre. One more dent to my pride. Needless to say I was pleased when I finally arrived. Her husband Tim was at high school in Singapore with Lis but is in Australia on holiday with their daughter so Joan is on her own. I had a shower and then we headed into town to a Chinese restaurant where we had a great dinner with lots of food. Tim did his PhD in Nebraska so Joan was familiar with many of the places I had been and I enjoyed finding out more about some aspects of Nebraska and what I had seen. It was then home for a well deserved rest.