I decided to stop by a supermarket in town and stock up on food. I could tell that this was a Mecca for Seventh-day Adventists as the market had the best health food section I had yet seen and oodles of different meat substitutes and other vegetarian goodies. It’s a lot easier to be a vegetarian and to eat healthy here than in Nebraska!

As I was packing my bike a man came over and chatted with me. Israel was from Mexico and he worked in Michigan picking grapes. Apparently this is a good region for growing grapes and there are quite a few vineyards. I had seen one or two as I was cycling but I didn’t appreciate the extent of the industry. He said that he managed a gang of labourers who were all Mexicans except for two blacks from Mozambique. However, they found it too cold here and were heading for warmer climes like Texas. That doesn’t surprise me. The labourers are not that well paid—at only $7/h—but he said that it is a fortune compared to what they earned in Mexico—less than $1 per day—and the farmers treat them well and supply them housing. There is no shortage of people willing to work and he said that this is a very good part of America populated by good people. I was pleased to see that I am not the only one who has had such positive experiences. Israel couldn’t figure out where N.Z. was and asked if there were any elephants or tigers there.

I’m sure he would have been pleased to talk all day but I had to be on my way. Joan had given me good directions for a back road route to Dowagiac and so I headed back out of town and hit the quiet roads. There was hardly any traffic which was good since there were no shoulders on the roads. What surprised me was how winding and hilly they were—Tim Standish had told me that this part of Michigan was flat. Having lived in Bangkok I would have thought he had a good idea of what flat was, but perhaps he was confused by his time in Penang. Either way, it was anything but flat, however at the same time it was nothing short of a beautiful ride with lots of forests and farms.

This part of the U.S.A. differs from the other areas I have been through insofar as the land is not a continuum of huge farms. They have large farms, however, there are acres and acres of woodlands. Many houses are set back from the road in a small clearing surrounded by towering trees. It really is quite lovely. I can see where Lis developed her love of trees having grown up in this area.

One of the common features of farms in this area are barns. They are usually painted red, unlike their western cousins who used almost any colour, and come in all shapes and sizes. Many are very old, some so old that they have fallen down, while others are fancy new ones. When Lis and I were first courting she often asked me to stop to get photos of barns so the following photos are in her honour.

I reached Dowagiac which was a much larger town than Berrien Springs. It had the fully array of fast food restaurants whereas Berrien Springs only had a few. I wanted to continue on the back roads and so stopped at a gas station and asked a local for directions towards Marcellus. He said that I wanted to take the Marcellus Highway and gave me very specific instructions on how to find it. He was out for a cruise with is son and daughter in an early 1950’s Chevrolet Impala which was quite the machine. At that time they associated futuristic with lots of chrome and flared body panels, and this car must have sported more chrome than any I have ever seen. It had the spare tyre in the centre of the rear boot lid and this was one huge gleaming sphere of chrome. Very impressive, but I would hate to have to polish all the chrome! Perhaps that is what the children are for.

I found the road without any problems and headed up towards Marcellus. The day was very humid and it had the feel of rain. In fact, almost every day since I crossed the Mississippi has felt like this, but in Michigan there is a grey haze of humidity which envelops you to the extent that it is hard to know whether or not it is a portent of an upcoming storm. Joan had told me that they were not forecasting rain, but when I heard thunder in the distance I knew that once again the American weather service was of similar accuracy to the N.Z. service.

I had seen a sign advertising some fast food in the distance and so when the rain started to fall I motored as best I could to the place and parked my bike next to the wall just as the skies opened. It was quite the downpour and lasted at good 30 minutes. I was thankful I was inside although my bike was a bit more exposed than I would have liked it to be. I bought a fruit juice and a ‘Little Debby’ treat since they were offering me shelter from the storm. Lis’ mum once worked at Little Debby while her dad was studying and so I often think of them when I come across their products for sale.

I had recently passed a State Park where there was a large picnic in progress. A fellow and a young woman who were on a Harley Davidson motorcycle were also sheltering in the store and it transpired that they were from this group who were having a family reunion. He was bedecked in what seems to be the standard ‘uniform’ for Harley drivers: black T-shirt with a fairly grim logo on the front, black leather trousers, black boots. He even had a black Harley leather bandanna around his head. I have been amazed at the number of Harley’s that there are in the mid-West. While I was in California, Nevada and Utah I saw some Harley’s and some Japanese bikes but since Nebraska it has been almost exclusively Harley’s. This may be due to their mid-West origins (Milwaukee) but I suspect that there is something deeper than that, associated with their very grunty, deep masculine exhaust sound. On the 4^th of July weekend I often saw groups of 10-20 riding their Harley’s and there was an interesting gender hierarchy that I also saw. Let me explain… there are three combinations that one observes riding motrocycles, men only, women only, men with women passengers. During this entire trip I have yet to see a woman driving a Harley with a man as the passenger. I guess no self-respecting Harley man would be driven by a woman.

The young woman was 17, a senior in high school. She commented that she couldn’t ride her bicycle a mile, let alone for days on end. I was surprised by this since she was very slim and looked athletic. The motorcycle driver, who was about 50 commented that when he was her age he would run 5 miles every day; her comment was that she couldn’t run around the block. I told her that failure to exercise wouldn’t catch up with her for a few years, but when it did she would regret not having a more active lifestyle. It really is so important, and I’ve come to realise it more and more the older I get.

It soon stopped raining and I continued on my way. Marcellus was forgettable and I continued east. There were many side roads but not one had an arrow indicating where the road went to. What I would do is either ask directions if I met someone by the side of the road or, as was usually the case, I would turn into a road which I suspected was the one I wanted to be on and then wait for a vehicle to stop in the road for a turn. I did this several times with success and soon found myself on the road to Schoolcraft.

This area took me through some wetlands and I was pleased to see that they hadn’t been drained and turned into farmland. Indeed, overall I think that Michigan has the most ‘natural’ beauty of any state that I have as yet been through. I use the term with some reservation since I’m certain that most of the woods I see are not original growth but regeneration of forest on land that was once cleared. You find that to be the case in a number of places, particularly states like Vermont which were settled early on and later depopulated when the people went west in search of larger, more economically viable farms. However, there were still lots of corn farms, like that shown below.

When I reached Schoolcraft it looked and felt like rain so I decided it was a fitting time for a meal break. I found the local park and there was a neat gazebo in the middle of the park with a picnic table. Perfect! I was even more pleased when I found that it had a power plug so I was able to plug in my computer and work on my journal for a while. I had bought some bagels that morning so I had bagel sandwiches with a vegetarian spread and some fruit. I even found a really pleasant radio station which provided some nice background music to make the scene complete.

A large family came by and had a picnic. There were the parents and 6 kids which, although exuberant as only kids can be were very well behaved. The youngest spent the good part of an hour exploring the grass for bugs since they were not allowed to play on the swings due to all the water that was about. It was sweet their enthusiasm when they found something.

The rain never eventuated so after a good break I headed east once again. As elsewhere, Schoolcraft had lots of antique shops and it also had a good number of old, stately homes as well. I have found many of the towns in this part of Michigan to be comely which is a surprise as I have always viewed the state as a bit of a write off.

Onwards I went and reached the village of Fulton where I planned to turn north towards Battle Creek. They had an original way of getting drivers entering the town to slow down, and it is shown below.

There were a series of large colour photographs of the different town children over the distance of about 100 m, each with a message between the photo saying that the town liked its children and asked drivers to slow down. I found it very effective, but I wonder what the impact would have been were I travelling at 100 km/h.

I heard a loud ‘bang’ from my rear wheel so I stopped and had a good look at it. As the photo below shows, what I found was not a pretty sight. I had broken three spokes. I still don’t know exactly how I did it but I suspect that I hit a pothole or bit of damaged pavement in such a way that an excessive force was transmitted to the wheel. This broke the spokes on the opposite side of the wheel and bent the rim. Not nice. In the past I have always toured with a few spare spokes but not once Have I needed them so I left them behind this trip. Figures.

I lightened the rear by dumping all my spare water and then proceeded north at a slower pace to preserve my wheel. The last thing I wanted to do was to break a wheel in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, the road wasn’t too bad, at least by Michigan standards, and the traffic was light so I was able to chose the most comfortable path.

I know that you are probably tired of photos like the one below, but once again I as given a panoramic view of corn fields from the road to the horizon. The monotony was somewhat broken by the farms who often had old, wooden bars just oozing character.

Eventually I reached the outskirts of Battle Creek and was advised by the petrol station attendant to go to the campground by Fort Custer. The latter is a modern military base and has nothing to do with the famous General George Armstrong Custer beyond being named after him. As I cycled over there I noticed many signs for ‘Balloon Parking’. It transpired that I had just missed a large hot-air balloon rally which is a real pity as I’m sure it most have been very colourful and something to see.

It seemed an awfully long way to the campground and after 10 km I stopped and asked at another petrol station if I had been mis-directed (signs being an option here in Michigan). No they said, it was a further 5 miles or so up the road but to the west away from town … and into a headwind. I was not impressed. I bought a paper to read and then battled towards the campground. On the way I passed a large Veteran’s hospital as well as a national cemetery.

Recently, I read how the ageing of the World War II veterans is causing a real problem for the national cemeteries. A good number are dying of old age and they are allowed to be interred in these cemeteries if they choose to be, which about 1/3 of them are. The problem is that they are fast filling up an many are no longer taking new interments. With the foresight for which governments around the world are famous for, this has only relatively recently been recognised and the government is scrambling to establish more space.

The campground was in a State Park which was down a long, wooded drive about 3 km long. When I got to the park entrance the bright spark ranger asked me to pay a vehicle fee. I’ve been wised up about this and I responded "but I don’t have a vehicle" which was factually correct as the regulations do not envisage cycle tourists coming to camp. He (literally) had a good look at my bike before deciding that there was not motor power beyond my legs and then let me through.

I headed to the campground headquarters where I went in to get a site. There was a very friendly young ranger named Meghan who was an environmental management student working there for the summer. She went through the registration process but the computer balked at taking in N.Z. so we decided that Arkansas (AK) was close to Auckland (AKL) and she fiddled the process. There was a young 10 year old boy who was quite inquisitive but had no short-term memory. He asked me at least 4 times where I had come from, and then a few hours later came to my camp site and asked me again! I was given a very nice site by the lake and after getting some water and having a wash proceeded over.

Just for a change I decided to take it a bit easy and sat down and read the Sunday paper. I had got a Detroit News and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was. There was international news and the comics were actually funny. There was one that I cut out for Lis which made fun of a husband asking his wife where things are. That’s one of my major failings but I’m glad to see that I am not the only one!

My neighbours across the road had a roaring fire going and invited me to join them, which I did. John and Joe were keen mountain bikers and they were there with Tracy, John’s wife. Joe was from Kalamazoo MI, while the others were from Battle Creek. It transpired that this park had one of the best mountain biking courses in Michigan and it regularly attracts riders from as far away as Chicago. They had been riding for the weekend an were relaxing. Joe was a real techno guy. He waxed eloquently about his derailleurs, aluminium and titanium bikes, all the gadgets etc. At 56 he was still doing quite well in keeping up with the younger riders, but I think he has been seduced by the technology. He showed me a magazine with a carbon-fibre bicycle he has ordered; it cost $USD 3700, just for the frame. I can think of better things to do with those sorts of money.

It was great chatting with them around the fire and they told me lots of mountain biking stories. The one I liked most was a prank played the previous week when one of the bike mechanics filled a racers tyres with water! It acted like a gyroscope and the guy kept on falling over in curves. Finally after 8 miles he heard something sloshing around and worked out what had happened, but he was quite exhausted by then. I can imagine he would be as two tyres full of water probably weigh in excess of 5 kg, and that is a lot of inertia to overcome.