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| | | @ Harbor Springs |
DALMAC: Four Achy, GloriousDays on a Bicycle
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| | | @ Harbor Springs |
The grinding wind, which had blown in our faces all dayand extended our ride two hours, whipped at our newly pitchedtent and marked the end of a long, hard night and following day.
The previous night, the first stop in the bike tour's journeyfrom East Lansing to Mackinac, we camped at Central Michigan'sathletic complex not 300 yards from the stadium where the Chippewafootball team played Eastern Kentucky. The crowd's roar for threehours was one thing. The celebratory post-game fireworks wereanother. The come-and-go thunderstorms with torrential rain wereanother. And the freight trains, which seemed to go through yourtent instead of along tracks 100 feet away, were yet another.With the dawn's early light we packed soggy tents and belongings,loaded them on trucks, and pedaled off into an all-day headwindwith 400 others for the 78 miles to Lake City.
Now, in our little corner of a tent city at Lake City HighSchool, we finally got a break. We ate dinner in the school'scafeteria and then made a trip to a market across the street.As Sally read a section of a Detroit newspaper and I worked itscrossword puzzle, I munched on cheese corn and drank diet Coke.Looking up from her reading, Sally remarked, "Enjoy thiswhile you can; we only have one more night of camping."
"Oh, no!" I said, disappointed. "Why'd youhave to remind me. I love this!"
You may be wondering, So what's to love?
It would be later before I would know why.
Being long-time runners, we were yet wary of the hills aheadthat the experienced riders said would get longer and steepereach day. A runner knows that he or she will never be able torun down a hill fast enough to compensate for the slowdown goingup. And yet these riders, buffeted by the same winds that slowedus all day, seemed unafraid of what lay ahead.
It got better. The third day featured sunshine and lightcrosswinds, and ended at Central Lake in the hill country eastof Torch Lake. And we uncovered the bikers secret: You may creepup a hill at six or seven miles an hour, but will well more thanmake up for it by sailing at 30 or 35 (which feels like 70) down!And day four's nearly 100 miles, through monstrous hills and theexceptional beauty of Harbor Springs and the far northern LakeMichigan shoreline, came easier than we feared.
I later realized why I liked DALMAC so much: The difficultyof riding 332 miles on a bike made you appreciate simple pleasureslike resting, reading, and eating junk food. And like any enduranceenterprise, it took you away from the normal concerns of yourday. You worried about nothing. There was just you, the bike,and the long winding and hilly road.
What do you think? Write RonBerby.