Can't say as I recommend the breakfast at the Value Inn in Marquette. Then again what can one expect with $55 lodging but a couple of greasy donuts and alleged "orange juice" that I suspect was that powdered drink called "Tang"? But the coffee was good and the sky outside was a beautiful blue with nary a cloud to be seen. I'll settle for that.
I choked down the donuts, strapped my pack on the bike and soon rolled up to the pumps at a nearby gas station rife with customers beginning their day.
I traded "road stories" with a local biker who has lived in Marquette for about three years, having moved there from Ironwood, 150 west on the Wisconsin border. He had the answer to my question, "What do people do for a living in these parts?"
"Ore. Iron Ore," he said. "There's two mines near by."
The man expressed approval of my solo journey around the USA, saying it's good to be alone sometimes. Inasmuch as he'd left Ironwood after losing his wife and business in a divorce, I gathered he didn't have much choice in being alone.
Having mentioned yesterday the isolation of Michigan's "Upper Peninsula," I now wondered if and when I'd get free of the populated areas just west of Marquette. Several miles later I was once again enjoying the lightly traveled two-lane through the aspen-filled Ottawa National Forest and passing through small country towns such as Covington, Sidnaw and Ewen where weathered barns with moose antlers nailed above their doors is a common sight.
Today's elevation hung in there at 1200 and 1300 feet but in a few places rose as high as 1800 feet. I was amazed. I'd always thought Michigan was low and flat.
Unlike yesterday, the air temperature was "just right". But it was windy. Every now and then a strong gust caught me by surprise, though most of the time a steady head wind. All in all it was a good ride all the way to Ironwood where I stopped for lunch and fuel, confident I'd make the next 110 miles to my chosen destination, Duluth, Minnesota. I would be in an out of Wisconsin quicker than I could check it off my "been-there-seen-that" list.
Just outside Ironwood, I stopped at the border for a photo of the "Welcome To Wisconsin" sign. White, puffy clouds on the horizon began to grow and darken over the next 30 miles and the wind twisted its way at me from various directions in sadistic surprise. The blackening sky ahead not only caused me to decide against Duluth as the day's destination, but to hold up at the next town, Ashland, nine miles ahead. Despite the threat of a road-drenching deluge at any moment, I didn't want to waste time stopping to put on the rain gear. It was only 9 miles.
Just three miles from Ashland, a car ahead slowed for a large "dust devil" tearing and twisting roadside tree tops. I stopped on the shoulder and braced myself as it smacked me on it's way by, followed by more wind. Heavy rain was imminent. I could see it ahead. I also saw an awning topped gas station where I could hide and wait it out. It was like an oasis in the desert, suddenly in the middle of nowhere exactly when needed. Divine Intervention?
I shot under the awning and braced myself for the coming onslaught. Thinking back, I don't know why I turned off the camera. I could have gotten some good storm footage. I guess I was worried about the last battery (which I'd been nursing for the past hour) dying before I reached my destination, which now hardly makes sense because my destination was only three miles away.
The adjacent store looked like a much better place for me to wait, given that rain was blowing sideways and coming under the awning. Ever so grateful for the shelter, I stood in the dry doorway watching the Harley rocking on its kick stand. The storm passed in two or three minutes and the air was suddenly calm. Not a breath of wind. That's not to say the threat was over. The sky looked like it could easily brew up a repeat.
As I rode through Ashland in a sprinkling rain I looked for a convenient motel (i.e. close to a restaurant). But apparently Ashland has a law about motels and restaurants being within reasonable walking distance of one another. None were. Nearly at the end of town I checked into a Motel 8 ($80-plus-tax). It was 2 p.m. Actually, I learned it was 1 p.m. I'd crossed into a new time zone somewhere along the route.
In the parking lot I had a nice chat with a couple on a silver Honda Goldwing "trike" (3-wheeled motorcycle). Like me, they stopped early because of the storm. The middle-aged Goldwingers are from Green Bay, Wisconsin and on a 5-day loop-ride with another couple on a red Goldwing trike. They were almost home. When they learned I was from the West Coast they mentioned their summer plans to, along with the "red Goldwingers", ride to Seattle and down the coast all the way to San Diego, then back to Wisconsin. Though they'd read about Hwy 1 on the California coast they'd never been there. Having been there several times myself I was able to confirm the hairpin curves and cliff hanging guardrails the route is known for. The good news -- it's an adventurous ride with jaw-dropping views. They're looking forward to it.
As I stood talking to those folks in the parking lot about sunny California, the sky above us was likewise sunny, causing me to feel a bit wimpish for quitting the road so early. I could have made Duluth. I felt justified when, back in my room, looking out the window at the return of black sky and strong wind whipping the treetops.
I picked a calm moment between storms to venture out for dinner. Making sure I had my rain gear I first rode to the far side of town to a Walmart I remember seeing. I needed to replenish some travel supplies. It was farther than I remembered.
I was inside Walmart for about 10 or 15 minutes. Dry when I went in, the parking lot was wet with large puddles when I returned. Must have been a pretty hard rain. Though just sprinkling at the time, rumbling thunder and occasional flashes of lightening prompted a quick struggle with the rain gear.
I was inside Walmart for about 10 or 15 minutes. Dry when I went in, the parking lot was wet with large puddles when I returned. Must have been a pretty hard rain. Though just sprinkling at the time, rumbling thunder and occasional flashes of lightening prompted a quick struggle with the rain gear.
By the time I got to the
end of the parking lot it was raining hard. I'd gone about a mile on the main drag
when "raining hard" was redefined. I was spoke-deep in water and drowning in the saddle! I could see nothing but flashes of lightening. In desperation I dove into the nearest parking lot, lept from my seat and took cover under the awning of a closed business, leaving the
Harley to fend for itself. Finally able to breathe and see, I watched the light show for 10 minutes or
so, ever so thankful I wasn't out on the open road. I then noticed I was only one block from the Chinese restaurant I spotted on my way to Walmart and planned to return to. Almost made it.
The storm subsided to a tolerable drizzle and I was soon in the restaurant doorway, puddles forming at my feet and tracking me to my window seat along with empathetic stares from fellow patrons.
By the time I finished dinner the sun was out, uniquely situated under dark clouds and shining brightly over Lake Superior. Ironically, I had to wear sunglasses on the ride back to my room.
June 17, 2013
I woke to thick fog and 48 degrees. The weather channel predicts a duplicate of yesterday along my intended route to Alexandria, Minnesota. My thumb-sucking-snivel-meter says, "stay put." Now I can enjoy my $40 breakfast and spend a comfortable day working on the blog, videos and smugmugging my backlog of unprocessed photos.
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Marquette, MI to Ashland, WI 182 Miles 
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