Day Twenty Nine - 353 miles
Did I say how nice the Johnson's were to me? They really were.
The kids were up about 9am, which is pretty late for kids, I guess. I was up about an hour after that - my "normal" time. I felt rested.
It was nice to get up to a bustling, "family" household, with plenty of food and activity. Gary immediately sensed that I needed coffee, and put more on to brew. In fact, he could see I was one of "those guys," and right away offered me the end of the previous batch before he tossed it to make the fresh one - a man who can read my mind!
I hadn't made up my mind if I was going to drive today or not. I had decided I wanted to swim in the lake though, so after breakfast, myself and Gary hopped on the BICYCLES and rode down to the water. The lake is only a couple of blocks away, but the bikes are a good way to get around.
The weather had cooled down a bit, but was still pretty nice by my standards. We wandered along the beach for a bit and Gary told me about the town and the neighborhood, and of course the lake.
I was debating whether or not to get in. About the time I decided "Yes," the rest of the gang showed up. I got my white Irish body into the water. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming, but it's fairly shallow by the public beach area. You have to go out quite far to reach deep water. Very safe for kids. I went out as far as the "outer" lifeguard chair, which you're not supposed to dive off, and I dived off it a few times. The lifeguard had left a little while earlier because the weather was overcast, but it was starting to clear up.
Before I got out, I went down the waterslide too. I went down the "normal" way a few times, like the sign said, "FEET FIRST ONLY." Then I thought, "I wonder what happens if you go down the other way?" And so I did. It worked out pretty well on the right-hand tube, but on the left-hand one I found out it would probably be a great way to break your nose. I only nearly broke mine, fortunately.
After the slide, I decided I was probably safer on my motorcycle. We headed back to the house for lunch, and I packed my stuff up, and got ready to hit the road. I had kind of decided on a "loose" West-northwest route (with maybe a Banff option later), and thought Duluth over on the far west side of Lake Superior would be a good point to aim for, about 350 miles away.
We got a few pictures out front of the house - Gary even dug the tripod out for the occasion! We bid farewell. Then I was off again. I had really enjoyed stopping here for a bit of "Yooper" hospitality, and I am very grateful to Jan and Gary, and the gang - and Jess of course! - for putting me up and feeding and entertaining me! Thank you, Johnson's!
The weather had cleared up really nicely, and I drove in nice temperatures, northwest across the peninsula towards Duluth.
As I studied the map and the route, I realized that I would go right by the Bayfield Peninsula, which is where the Apostle Islands are located. This is a National Lakeshore area, like a National Park. It's another area I had always wanted to visit, but it was already almost sunset by the time I reached the turnoff. I should probably have gone straight on to Duluth, because I didn't want to drive a remote area at night, but with the sunlight waning, I decided to take the turnoff...
This was kind of silly. I knew it would add on about an hour, maybe more, but in reality it was a lot more, perhaps two or three hours. However, you only live once, and I figured I could take it easy and go slow with the high beams on, or get behind a car, if it got a bit hairy.
I passed through the lovely town of Washburn, and by sundown, or a little after, the even more lovely town of Bayfield. This was another of those, "If only I'd known" moments. If only I had, I would not have booked my motel tonight in Cloquet (near Duluth), but instead would have stayed in beautiful Bayfield. What a gorgeous place! It kind of reminded me of Maine and Nova Scotia fishing villages, only on Lake Superior. The town was in full "summer swing," with lots of happy people walking around in t-shirts, hand-in-hand, kids on bikes, and folks sitting at little lakeside restaurants and bars. This was a nice place. Mental note: COME BACK.
I decided to press on. It was now "almost dark" and I was just hoping to get to part of the National Lakeshore area, so I could just see the islands across the water. I could already see some from Bayfield. Part of me was thinking, "Dude. Why don't your just stop here in this little town and have dinner? Then go on to your motel, an hour away?" That might have been easier, but the "adventurer" in me always wants to peek around the next corner. So, I kept going up the peninsula.
The road was closed ahead to all but residents. People going further in, had to come around from the other side -an hour plus detour, I wasn't going to make. The little voice was still saying, "You can still go back and have dinner in Bayfield!"
The road turned to dirt where it ended. I got behind a Jeep, and using my newly-learned off-road skills from Meat Cove in Nova Scotia, followed him in. After about a mile, the road was paved again, and I was on the northern end of the peninsula. I saw a National Park Service sign for Apostle Islands National Lakeshore - Little Sand Bay, and I took it. That brought me down another road, then another one, and eventually I saw people, and I was suddenly in Little Sand Bay.
It was a lot of effort, but it was worth it. I immediately fell in love with the place. Just how it looked. A little harbor. Islands offshore. And a beautiful sky. The sun had set, but it was still painting magnificent colors on the sky which in turn were reflected on the water.
There was a pretty large campsite nearby, but it looked fairly full. I would have camped and forfeited my motel room, but I didn't know where to inquire or where I'd park and leave my stuff if I did. It was also about 9:30pm now, and I didn't want to be the "weird solo guy" showing up late at a family campground. I decided to sit by the water for a few minutes, soak it all in mentally, and then head out. Again, mental note: COME BACK (Story of my tour...)
The road out was not much fun. I decided at this point, it would be faster to Duluth, to keep going counter-clockwise around the Bayfield Peninsula - eventually I would hit US-2 again, and that would take me to Minnesota. God, Minnesota! It was getting late, and I still had far to go! Deer! Death! Okay, pull yourself together, Bryan.
I got behind a pickup truck that came roaring by, just as I got to the main road around the peninsula. I hate freaking people out by keeping up with them, especially at night, but it's a great way to "sweep the road." Your lights just are not as good on a bike as a car, and a car can "see" better. They also do a lot better if they hit a deer. So, folks - if you are being "followed" at night by a motorcycle on a lonely country road, they are 99.99% of the time, not stalking you. They are just using you for safety.
After about 25 miles - and by now we were heading south-west again - the pickup pulled into a gas station. I pulled in behind them...I was actually about to tell them that I wasn't stalking them, but as I got near, they suddenly pulled out. Poor people...I hate to think that I scared anyone! Mental note: Get those after-market PIA headlamps or HID headlamps fitted to the bike when I get back to San Francisco. Definitely needed.
I decided to get some gas. The station was unattended, but I could use my card at the pump. After that, I was on my own on the road again for a while. I was also discovering that Lake Superior, as it is so cold, also gets FOG. At night. Great!
Eventually, another car came along I could "stalk." That got me most of the way towards Duluth. I stopped in a McDonald's for some quick eats. They had Cool Hand Luke playing on the TV. I came in at the bit where Luke is shaking the tree, then vanishes from the chain gang.
Twenty minutes later, I was crossing the bridge into Minnesota. It was about midnight. It was now Sunday, August 22nd. I realized it was the day we had set aside for my friend Brian Black's remembrance service in San Francisco. Of course, I wouldn't be there. It was also ironic that I had just crossed into Minnesota - Brian's first real home in the United States. Around 1990, I think. He must have had lots of hopes and dreams back then. I'd like to think that he realized some of them.
Life is about the journey, not the destination.
I took some pictures of Duluth from a rest area on a bluff overlooking the lake and city. I called a friend. We spoke of Brian. I sat for a while.
Then I went on another ten miles to the town of Cloquet, nearby. My room was waiting. Tomorrow would be another day.
Rest in peace, Brian.
Over and out.
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