Tuesday morning, before leaving Cumberland, I did my laundry. It was a late start, but I've come to the conclusion that bike touring is just mobile living. There are days when you focus on riding and other days when you have to engage in maintenance activities like laundry, cleaning and adjusting the bike, and resupplying your groceries.
I rode up to Birchwood and it was really a nice touring ride. The pace didn't matter; I was enjoying the scenery. I didn't have a destination planned for the day, figuring that there were enough small towns and lots of campgrounds along the route that I could stop when I was ready to stop.
The back roads in WI are really great for bicycling. There's very little traffic and most of the roads are in excellent condition. Sure, there are some hills, but they can be climbed in minutes, rather than hours as in Washington and Montana.
Out of Birchwood, I took County F as per the ACA directions. About 5 miles later, I still hadn't seen the lake that F was supposed to go around. The "County F South" sign solved the mystery. I had turned right onto F when I should have turned left.
Backtracking on a bicycle is no fun and I was hoping that I'd simply be able to alter my course and get back on track after a few miles. No, I was actually closer to Hiway 8 (where I had been on Monday afternoon).
It was time to come up with a new route; a plan B. The original route took me further North before turning South. Perhaps the best thing to do was to just cut across the state and reconnect with the ACA route well South of the Conover turnoff. That would actually save me 100 miles or so and given the forecast for Southerly winds, it would make the ride easier. (I spend more time checking wind direction than most sailors.)
So, off I went, continuing on County F South. The only problem with the new route was the fact that my WI map didn't show motels and campsites. So I asked the locals in Bruce for help and they said there would be campsites on Hiway 27, just South of Ladysmith and about 12 miles away. Perfect.
Well, there were no campsites and no motels once I got out of Ladysmith. The nearest town of any size was 30 miles away and I already had ridden 75 miles and it was after 6 p.m. I passed a bar/restaurant and behind it was a grassy area and a parked RV. Maybe they offered camping?
I went in and asked.
"Sure, you can camp here; free."
"Showers and restrooms?"
"No showers, but you can use the restrooms as long as the bar is open."
This wasn't the ideal situation, but I've learned to accept less than ideal as opposed to "no deal" at all. At least there was a restaurant and I'd be able to get some dinner.
Even though it was dinner time, the place was virtually empty and by the time I set up the tent, changed, and came back, I was the only customer.
I sat at the bar, ordered a draft and asked for the menu. The bartender, mother of the owner, said the food was very good, but the cook had left to go play volleyball.
"He should be back in about an hour."
"Fine, its early and I can wait. How about another draft?"
By 8:30 there was still no cook and I figured his heart would not be into cooking even if he did show up now. So I returned to my tent and ate a couple of fruit bars, some crackers and called it a day. During the night I heard lots of barking and howling. I hoped the noise came from dogs and not coyotes. Today I found out there are lots of black bears in the area. It was probably better that I did not know this last night.
When camping, I usually get an early start and today followed form. By 7 a.m. I was riding. I figured there there had to be a c-store somewhere nearby where I could get some breakfast. Again, I was wrong. Thirty miles into the day I came to a rest area and figured I could at least wash up and eat the rest of my reserve food. Sardines, cheese, peanut butter, a couple of fruit bars and a banana is the breakfast of champion riders.
I passed through one small unincorporated town and had a sort of "Twilight Zone" moment. There was a school and next to it was a cemetery. There was only one headstone in it, and while I don't pay much attention to cemeteries, I couldn't help but notice the name on this single headstone: Martin. The wrong turn, change in route, the only customer in a restaurant, and now this headstone: kind of creepy, don't you think?
******
Even though the roads are better and the winds aren't trying to push me backwards, I notice that my energy level is down. Average speed is slipping and the legs just don't have the push they had early on. The hills require lower gears and I notice the cracks in the road just seem to be more jarring. Today is my 32nd consecutive day of riding and I'm averaging 70 miles per day. Most riders take a day off every 7-10 days, but riding alone, I don't find doing nothing for a day particularly appealing. So, I push on.
Today I had planned to ride to Merrill, about 90 miles altogether. By the time I got to Medford however, my legs emphatically told me that they weren't going to do another 30 miles. Better to get some rest for these tired legs, I figure, and though it was only 1:30 I checked into the Medford Inn. Medford has real food and with a good night's sleep, I'm sure I'll be in better shape tomorrow.
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Location:Medford, WI
