I'm a veteran DALMACcer, having ridden twelve and driven support for two more. This year I was working the registration tables, both Wednesday evening and Thursday morning, before taking off myself. Larry Varney, whom I met 'way back at Ed Gin's Coroplast Fairing Workshop , had come up from Kentucky for his first one. Larry would be spending the night at my house and helping at the registration tables in the morning before we took off, too.

You might think that the 4-Day East route went up the east side of the state. Not true! Actually, it  runs roughly along the US-27/I-75 corridor until the last day. Much of this part of  Michigan can be characterized as 'more' rural than the west. Fewer towns along the route, as compared to the west routes, means fewer potential places to stop; because, unlike some other rides, DALMAC doesn't have formal rest stops.   This route was more or less the original DALMAC route, prior to the West routes' becoming more popular in the 80s. It hadn't been done since about '86, so I was interested in checking it out.

Morning came too early, and Larry and I loaded my truck for the drive over to registration. The crowds came steadily to register, and by 7:30 the traffic volume had eased and we were able to cut out. It took us a while to load our baggage on the appropriate truck, get Larry's van parked in the correct lot, and get going. We were on the road by about 9:00. Parking at a friend's house let us start riding at the far side of town, so we were no worse off than if we'd left at 8:30.

The day was beautiful: sunny and warm, with a pleasant tailwind. Larry and I cruised along almost effortlessly at nearly 17 mph. Larry got lots of questions about his Bike Friday Sat-R-Day, and I suspect he enjoyed the attention. The first day doesn't have any major hills, just lots of smaller ones, as we rolled our way north. We caught a few of our recumbent cohorts along the way and agreed to all meet at the Pizza Hut in Alma instead of the more popular VFW Hall in Perrinton. Some of them took off, chasing pacelines. We were pretty well scattered by Alma. At Alma, we noted that *someone* had duct-taped a 'D' at the front and a 'C' at the end of the ALMA city limit sign, making it read, "Welcome to DAlmaC." I won't mention any names, Dick!

Lunch at Pizza Hut is becoming an institution for this day. I walked in and requested a table for 12. We all stuffed ourselves silly at the Pizza Bar, then waddled back out to our bikes. The others got out in front of Larry and me, and Larry finally assured me he could find someone else to ride with, so I took off. They were doing 20+ mph when I caught them. Larry White opted to go on ahead with me, and as he pulled out we picked up a lone Wolverine. After a few miles of 26+ mph, he decided he didn't need our draft that much and dropped off. Riding a Gold Rush with a body sock, Larry is a rotten draft, anyway. We drove on ahead, looking for Jim and Bob, but we never found them. It turns out they had missed a turn and gotten off the route. We got to Mt Pleasant well ahead of the main body of riders, so we stopped at a 7-11 for a cold drink and to rest in the shade as we watched the other bikers pull into town. Our arrival at Central Michigan University was at about 2:30, and the baggage trucks already unloaded.

After setting up camp and showering, I sat around and watched the bikes still coming in. Wow, I've never seen so many recumbents on a ride before! I quickly lost count. As suppertime approached, the clouds started piling up to the west. We got a few large spatters of rain as I left for the cafeteria, so I took my rain jacket, but we didn't get more. After supper, I tried to get a recumbent count. I counted 34, (out of about 790 riders,) but I know there were many I missed because they were inside vans or tents. Coincidently, I counted 34 tandems, too. Almost every recumbent rider I questioned was on the East route, probably because it was billed as the flattest of all the routes.

At 9:30 or 10:00, after I had turned in, there was a fireworks display at the football stadium, mostly composed of very loudly-exploding roman candles. Afterward, everyone else turned in for the night. During the night, our sleep was disturbed by a very obnoxious train and several rain storms which moved through the area.

The rain tapered off to a light sprinkle, and finally stopped about 4:30 am. Of course, the first zippers started opening at about 05:00. Why are these folks in such a hurry? It's only 65 miles to camp, it's not like they need to be on the road at dawn. Oh, I know -- it's the ones who went to the bar last night, and the rent's up on the beer!

Larry Varney and I deliberately left late. When I pulled out, there were only about 5 tents left on the campgrounds, probably all belonging to crew personnel. We set an easy pace out of Mt Pleasant. The first part of today's ride was mostly flat. Soon, Larry was talking to people we passed about his Sat-R-Day, which tended to slow us up. So, when Gary Christopher and Kevin Mead showed up, he waved me to head off with them. We stopped in Coleman, after a pleasant run of mostly flat farmland. Kevin charged up with an oatmeal cream thingie, and rode away from us almost as soon as we left town.

Here's something every town should have:  Coleman Auto & Bike store	Some long low rollers just north of Coleman (before the unpleasantness started.)

Here our route turned north, straight into a strengthening north wind. This stretch was unpleasant to say the least. The wind picked up until it was blowing straight out of the north at 20 mph, there were no windbreaks, the hills started, and to put the icing on the cake, we ran into day-old chip seal. Did I say hills? This was supposed to be the flattest route, and instead this route is much hillier than other DALMAC routes I've done. Auto traffic was apparently unfazed by the 35 mph speed limit signs, and regularly blew by us at 60 mph or more, pelting us with stones. Gary and I finally came upon Kevin, lying off the road. A truck's bow wave had blown him into the soft stuff at the shoulder and he had crashed. Lots of  road rash, a broken mirror, and a badly-torn pair of shorts and body sock seemed to be the worst of it. We nursed him to the SAG stop ahead where he got cleaned and patched up. This was supposed to be a water, fruit, and cookie stop, but instead it looked like a battlezone triage area, as Kevin wan't the only one to go down in the loose stones.

Twenty-seven miles down this desolate stretch, we finally got to our lunch stop, Shar-Al's in Meredith, where they set up a dining tent in back for us. Like the stretch of road, the lunch was unsatisfying. Being the only stop around, the place opted to rape us, price-wise. I paid $8.50 for a small sandwich and a spot of potato salad, some people paid over $12 for soup and sandwich and drink. Water sounded good at those prices. Kevin was stiffening up by then, so he opted to take a SAG ride for the rest of the tour.

Several miles north of Meredith, the chip seal finally quit. About five miles before coming into Houghton Lake, Gary and I finally ran into trees and got shelter from the wind. We played tag with a tandem on a few short hills, enjoying having our speed back finally. In Houghton Lake, we took the main drag rather than dart in and out on side roads. Only one redneck hollered for us to get on the totally-inadequate 'bike path,' an asphalted sidewalk. Right before the school, Larry White, Jim Walker, Bob Bartlett, and Dick Gilmore popped out from the side street, and we all rode into camp together. The campsite, Houghton Lake High School, was pleasantly wooded, which helped cut the wind, and very picturesque. Overhangs along the building gave us protected parking for the bikes.

I questioned our fearless ride leader, Christine Riddle, as to whether or not there would be prize drawings on Saturday evening. She had no plans, so I posted a notice for a recumbent rally at 7:00 pm on Saturday. The wind howled in the trees all evening, which had me concerned. It continued through most of the night, too, but finally died down before dawn.

The air was a brisk 47F, nearly enough to make our breath visible, and dead calm. The sun was intense and the sky was impossibly blue. After leaving too late yesterday, we got out of camp at 7:30 this morning. Traffic was light as Dick, Jim, Bob, Larry White, and I rolled out of town accompanying Dwayne Sheidler, the Event Director for DALMAC. We circled around Houghton Lake's north shore before heading north to Higgins Lake, dropping Dwayne in the process. As we turned away from Houghton Lake we immediately got into hills. Between Houghton and Higgins lakes, the terrain goes generally uphill. The long hills we started encountering yesterday were more numerous today.
 

Going up...  (file picture)	Jim's head disappears over the lip of Pioneer Hill (Look for the spot just right from the fog line.)

We arrived at the south side of  Higgins Lake, and turned to circle to the east. Southeast of the lake, we came upon Pioneer Hill. The climb wasn't terrible, merely long. We managed 8 mph going up. The downhill was something else, though. Sitting on top, it looked like riding off a cliff. Everyone hit at least 48 mph, I hit my ride's high of 51.1 mph. After that, we settled in to a comfortable paceline and ate up some miles. There were a few steep hills on the north side of Higgins Lake, but as we left the lake behind they gradually turned into long rollers. We cruised through the hills of the heavily forested Grayling National Guard Reservation, and into Grayling; but it was too early for a lunch of pasties at Albies, so we continued on.

We finally broke for lunch at Waters. The screaming downhill into town was marred by cars exiting the freeway into our paths, forcing us to hit the brakes. We stopped at a teeny restaurant, which subsequently put out the 'Closed' sign when they learned there were 375 bicyclists behind us. Oh well, I'm sure McDonald's welcomed them. As we were leaving, Gary Christopher caught up with us and rode the remaining miles with the group. He had stopped at Albies in spite of the early hour, and had benefitted from faster service. We had intended to go off the map to do some extra hills, but we missed the turnoff and ended up on the primary route: right down Old US-27. The traffic was bearable and the shoulder wide, and we made good time getting to Gaylord. We sort of got turned around in Gaylord and two upright riders got to the middle school just before us, making us numbers 3 through 8 into camp. One of them kindly snapped our pictures before we headed over to the local landmark, Big Buck Brewery.
 

"The Gang" at Gaylord Middle School: (L-R) Gary, Bob, Larry, me, Jim, and Dick Dang, I've got a lightpole sticking out of my head!	'Bent Bikers Imbibe at Big Buck Brewery (L-R) Dick, Bob, me, Larry, Gary, and Jim

By the time we returned, the baggage trucks were unloaded. Was that great planning or what??? The only thing we couldn't plan for was the custodian 'forgetting' to turn on the boilers, so the showers were cold! By washing one section of me at a time, I managed to get clean without hypothermia setting in. After setting up camp, showering, and visiting, a few of us piled into Gary's private SAG and went to dinner at LaSenorita. I was not impressed by the tour's food this year, it was just kinda blah, so the restaurant was a welcome change. When we returned, we discovered that Riverfront Cycles, our support shop for the route, had announced a prize drawing at the same time as the proposed Recumbent Rally. I quickly ammended the posting to read, "immediately following the drawing." Prizes mostly ranged from multi-tools to mini-pumps. Recognition was given to our young riders, who ranged all the way down to 8 years old. Dick Allen gave a rousing speech, pointing out that our work isn't done yet, not when a bureaucrat with the Bridge Authority can arbitrarily deign that an 8 year old who has ridden 325 miles through hills and rain, isn't qualified to ride the Bridge with the other cyclists. This may be the start of a new activist campaign.
 

A small contingent showed up for the recumbent rally (Larry in front, I have a lightpole sticking out of my head  again - is this a conspiracy?)	full moon rises over the Gaylord campsite

Following the drawings, a few recumbent riders gathered outside the school and answered questions from interested folks. There were a few test rides, especially on Chris Riddle's TerraTrike. Eventually we ran out of light, and as the full moon rose in the east, we had to call it a night.

Today started out even chillier than yesterday, and the dew was heavy on the tents as we woke for the last day of riding. The tradition for the last day is always to get on the road early, regardless of mileage. The Bridge Authority is the main reason, imposing a 400 rider limit to each bridge crossing. So, riders want to get to Mackinaw City as early as possible in order to make the earliest possible crossing. The quoted mileage doesn't include actually crossing the Bridge, which adds 9 more miles. We left at our 'usual' 7:30am.

This is the hilliest day, no matter which route you take. Our first big hill hit a scant five miles out, and afterward they just kept a'coming. We rode through the town of Wolverine, where the short route split from the century route. Jim and Bob took the wimpy way, the rest of us left town via some monstrous climbs up Wolverine Road and onto Mitchell Road for our trek over to Petosky. The hills were every bit as bad as I remembered from years past, but we were periodically rewarded by big downhills. I loved it! One particular downhill had us spinning  at an easy 30 mph, continuously, for several miles. The climbs served to split us up, but we regrouped as necessary to stay nearly together. The leg to Petosky was capped by a 41 mph coast-down on the hill along the golf course to US-31. The day had warmed nicely, and cool weather gear got stashed when we stopped for lunch.

Petosky is where all the routes come back together, the five day rides as well as both four day rides and the Quad Century. So, we were no longer big fish in a small pond, we were mixing it up with the fastest riders from the other routes, too.  After lunch at Burger King, we pulled out in front of six Wolverines. Not the town, the cycling club. Whatever else folks say about Wolverines, they really do have a tradition of being fast, producing a couple of Olympic championships in  years past. They didn't take kindly to having a bunch of recumbents in front of them, so they sped up and passed us. Dick saw Fred flags, (cut off short for less air resistance,)  and promptly sped up even more. As he pulled alongside, he offered a friendly, "hello." The lead Wolve asked if Dick's body sock got hot. Dick replied, "sometimes, but when it does, I just generate more breeze by speeding up." I pulled out with him as he demonstrated, pulling all six Wolverines, and leaving Gary and Larry in the proverbial dust. At 28 mph, the lead Wolve gasped in my ear, "I didn't know 'those things' could go so fast."  I shrugged as I clicked the bike into overdrive and sped up more before Dick dropped me on the long flat. I think we lost them about a mile downrange of 32 mph.  Later, when Gary and Larry caught up with us at Good Hart, they laughed about the 28 mph warmup and how those Wolverines were so wasted after we dropped them that even kids were passing them.

The climb out of  Harbor Springs is always challenging. This year, a jogger passed me on the climb. As a testimony to the quality of the average DALMAC rider, I didn't see anybody walking their bikes, though.  After a few miles of pleasantly shaded rolling hills past golf courses and horse farms, I was presented with a choice of the standard hilly route or the bypass route. I chose the hills. As the bypass route followed the lakeshore past vacation homes set in the woods, my chosen route got away from the lake slightly, alternating between highland meadows and the lowland woods between the hills. The big downhill, dubbed 'The Chute' had some traffic on it and I was only able to do about 48 mph this year. Just past the bottom, the routes converged again and I caught up with Larry, who had opted for the bypass route. We stopped in Good Hart so everyone could regroup. The general store there serves up fresh baked goods, fruit, and drinks, and is one of the most popular stops on the whole tour. Many 5-day riders loll in the shade until the century riders start showing up, erasing a 50 mile headstart.
 

The general store in Good Hart	Riders rolling into Good Hart

As we were pulling out and still forming our lines, a group of two guys on a tandem and two more on single bikes blasted past us. You could hear their tires hum with each pedal stroke as they both pushed for the sprint, the two singles spinning for all they were worth as they tucked low to stay in the pocket. "Look, Fred flags!" I exclaimed. The others wanted no part in it, those guys were catching some serious Vs! Well, I was on a V-Rex (King of Vs), so off I went, alone. After several miles at speeds in the 30 mph range, their initial 30 yard lead had lengthened to about 75 yards. I had to admit they weren't Freds, they were truly fast. I dropped my speed back a notch and settled in to see just what they were made of. Sure enough, after a few more hills and miles, I rounded a curve to find them all slumped over their handlebars in exhaustion. I refrained from yelling, "thanks for the pull!" as I went by.

On through Cross Village, with its crowds of private support vehicles and cyclists everywhere, and out into the sand dunes and jack pines. This stretch was short hills and winding road, and I took full advantage, building up a respectable cruising speed.  Turning inland one last time,  a rider from one group I passed dropped his group to pull in behind me and chat some. We traded pulls for the next eight miles, swapping leads whenever our speed dropped to 24 mph. The stretch along Wilderness Golf Course is flat and straight, and it's always been a fast stretch. This year we took it at about 26 mph, with me pulling the last three miles. Finally, we reached my final regrouping point, Cecil Corners, and I had to wave goodbye.

At the general store, I met Dave. Dave was doing the Quad Century, and was the lead rider from that route. He hurriedly took off, because he didn't want me to beat him to Mackinaw City. I waited quite a while for the others, but didn't see them and finally went on alone. It turned out they had flown right past while I was inside getting something to drink, and were ahead of me. Six miles to go. I took an easy 18-20 mph pace to the final climb, a short relatively easy hill. I rounded the corner at the top of the hill and started the big shallow downhill run into town and the finish at the high school, trading 'leads' with a few other cyclists. I was in time for the second crossing, but since my wife was there waiting, I opted for loading the bike on the car and letting one more rider do the Bridge crossing.

I still needed to pick up my baggage in St Ignace, but I deliberately delayed the drive so I could cross at the same time as the second crossing.  That way I could wave and toot at friends. Everyone I saw had ear-to-ear grins. The Bridge crossing is way cool, especially for first timers. 400 cyclists line up double file and set out across the 5 mile bridge, led by a Bridge Authority truck. This is freeway, and DALMAC is one of the few events for which they allow bikes on the bridge. What nobody tells the first timers, is that the bridge is just a big man-made hill, several hundred feet high. At a meager 12 mph, it's not hard for most riders, but it's definitely a strain for the weaker ones. On the far side of the bridge, there's one last climb, up the bluffs into St Ignace, and one major downhill, about a hundred feet of 15% grade, before reaching the end point, St Ignace High School. Pandemonium reigns there, with National Guard units at one end of the parking lot, baggage trucks at a far corner, thousands of duffel bags splayed in rough rows in yet another corner, and hundreds of family and friends picking up riders. My friends weren't far behind, and we all congratulated each other for the great time. After picking up my bags and grabbing a shower, my wife and I headed for home.

I've done all the DALMAC routes before, and I'd have to say this one was my least favorite. Unlike other tours, DALMAC doesn't usually set up rest stops at fixed locations, they just assume you'll take advantage of the myriad country stores and quick-stops along the routes. The east route simply doesn't have as many places to stop as the more westerly routes. On the other hand, the hills were, in the words of Dick Vitale, "awesome baby!" Some were absolutely huge by Michigan standards. Especially enjoyable for me was the very hilly stretch between Wolverine and Petosky, which I haven't done in years.  Afternoons and evenings, as always, were time for seeing old friends and making new ones. Campsites were always within walking distance to business strips, meaning anybody requiring more exciting nightlife had easy access.  Ride leader Christina Riddle and crew kept everybody on the route; heck, I didn't even need to take my map out of my seat bag!

Would I do DALMAC again? Oh, Yeah! Although  I wasn't entirely happy with day two,  the two major factors, wind and chip-seal, were beyond DALMAC's control, and the rest of the route was thoroughly enjoyable. I'm already considering which route to do next year, but it'll be a westerly one. Whichever route I choose next year will probably be based on which one can fit in the most of my favorite features. But that, as they say, is another story...