I believe its name is Birdbaths & More.
It has electric fencing around it and the gates were closed and locked.
INTRO • DAY 1 • DAY 2 • DAY 3 • DAY 4 • DAY 5 • DAY 6 • DAY 7 • WRAP-UP
DAY
4 — Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Blaney Park to Munising
LUNCH STOP: Manistique
ROUTE: U.S. 2 west to Hwy 94 (in Manistique) — Hwy 94 north to Hwy 28 — Hwy 28 west to Munising
TOTAL MILES: 68
We arose at our usual time — 7:15 a.m. — had breakfast and got on the road at 9:15.
We continued westward on U.S. 2 until we reached Manistique, about 18 miles. Along the way we snapped a couple more photos of interesting items.
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I believe its name is Birdbaths
& More.
It has electric fencing around it and the gates were closed and locked.
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Bill made his way through some
tall wheat for this one.
When he got back he announced, "A lot of people photograph it. They've
worn a path
to it through the wheat."
We also visited a souvenir store named Treasure City, which bills itself as "the biggest gift store in the Upper Peninsula." Indeed, it was housed in quite a large building. We pulled up and parked our bikes. There were no cars in the parking lot. Near the entrance a sign read: NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS. Next to that another one read: No kids under 16 without adult. We entered and it turned out we were the only customers in this huge store. We walked around in silence. After about three minutes a clerk appeared from the back. We purchased a couple items and left.
Within a couple miles of Manistique, businesses began lining the northern side of the highway — many of them motels. At this point, U.S. 2 comes to within about 50 yards of the Lake Michigan shoreline. We noticed a boardwalk/path about midway between the highway and the lake. So we swung over to it. Then parked our bikes and walked to the water's edge. Bill snapped a couple photos of the local geology (limestone bedrock and plant growth), and one of me at the water's edge.
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Limestone bedrock along Lake Michigan
shore (along with Bill's toes)
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Interesting plant growing on ground
rock
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John contemplating Lake Michigan
shore
We rode westward on the path until it came into the city.
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Heading westward to Manistique
on the bike path
Near the end of this path is the Manistique Lighthouse.
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One can walk out to the lighthouse
We then left the path and rode a couple blocks into town. Manistique is a charming little community with an inviting combination of both new businesses and traditional ones. All of them seem to be thriving — both new and old. We asked a person where there was a good place to eat. He pointed to a restaurant across the street — the Cedar Street Café. We went in for lunch. The service was friendly. Food was decent. Prices seemed a bit on the high side (probably for tourists).
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Hey, we're a couple of discerning
diners! James Beard had nothing on us.
After lunch we wound our way north through town to Hwy 94, which runs north-and-south between U.S. 2 and Hwy 28. On our way to 94 we crossed the Manistique River and Bill took a photo of the old city water tower.
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Bridge over the Manistique River
and city's old water tower
Hwy 94 is 30-plus miles long. We were riding the full length of it. It seemed to go on forever. After a few miles we came to a long stretch of construction.
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The orange and white barrels went
on for miles on Hwy 94
At the beginning point of the construction there was a rotund fellow seated in a blacktop roller, snoozing away in the seat with his head leaning back and mouth wide open. I thought, "What a great photo op." But I figured I shouldn't say anything because probably about the time Bill would snap the photo the guy would wake up and leap from his vehicle angry as heck. However, a few minutes down the road Bill commented, "Darn, that guy sleeping in his roller would have made a great photo." I agreed. Over the next few hours he repeated the observation a couple more times. And, each time I agreed, once again.
At one point the construction narrowed to a 3-mile stretch of single lane, with a traffic conductor at each end. When we got to it, we lined up behind a big truck, which was the sixth vehicle waiting in line. After a couple minutes the southbound cars came through and then the flagman at our end gave the "go" signal. The cars and truck in front of us moved forward into the single lane. When we got there we asked the man how far it was to the other end. He sort of rolled his eyes and replied, "Three miles." At our speed, that was fifteen minutes. Needless to say, they didn't bother holding up traffic waiting for us to reach the other end.
Once we got past the construction stretch traffic slowed to a trickle. There would be no traffic for about 10 minutes, then four or five cars would go past, then nothing for 10 minutes, then another couple cars, and so on. So we rode side-by-side much of the way. The further north we got the sparser civilization became and pretty soon the highway seemed to be a thin corridor winding through an endless forest.
Even though the houses and homesteads were usually small, some exuded pride and creativity. This was one of many that caught our eye.
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Quaintly painted house, with fancy
chicken coop, too
At the halfway point up Hwy 94 is a "town" indicated on our map as Hiawatha. As we had suspected from viewing Google maps, there were no businesses there. In fact, as best we could tell this town consisted of about six houses and this church. We were struck by the church's quaint architecture and prominent red cross.
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Log church at Hiawatha
As we peddled on we eventually came to the first commercial establishment for many miles — the Jack Pine Lodge. Outside were parked one car and three ATVs. We were thirsty and also thought it would be nice to get out of the sun for a few minutes. So we parked the bikes and presented the patrons and staff of the Jack Pine Lodge with our presence.
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Oasis on Hwy 94
There were three rotund 50-ish fellows at one end of the room having a beer. Sitting at the bar was a young gal having a Coke and chatting with a personable female bartender. Bill and I strolled up to the bar and ordered a bottle of beer and two glasses (to split the beer). Then we selected a prime table — not hard to do since we had virtually the entire room to ourselves — and sat down to enjoy our cold brewski.
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Yeh, a bicyclist shouldn't be quenching
thirst with a glass of beer.
But they used to do it at the Tour de France … about 75 years ago.
This tavern is an old one but clean and well maintained. It appears to be one of those establishments that has been around for decades and become iconic to the region. The furnishings (tables and chairs) were old and looked like they had about 20 coats of varnish. But everything shined like new. Each table had a unique base made from tree stump (probably from a jack pine tree).
Bill and I each quickly quaffed our 6-ounces of beer and set out to get back on the road heading north. At the same time the three other fellows came out and mounted their ATVs. We had a short conversation about where they were from and where they were heading. Bill and I started down the road. About a minute later the three ATVs roared by single file on an ATV trail about 30 yards from the highway. The first guy in line looked like he was doing just fine. The second and third guys were riding through a dense cloud of dust kicked up from the first guy. It looked like a horrid experience. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how they could do that, and enjoy it.
The entire northern half of Hwy 94 was superb riding. Minimal traffic, great scenery. We mostly rode side-by-side.
From the start of the tour, I adopted the role of "rear traffic checker." Thus, every 15 seconds or so I would be glancing at my rearview mirror. While progressing up Hwy 94, I realized that in my mirror was a scene that never changed. I had viewed it hundreds of times since the tour began. It was a highway extending into nothingness, with a sky above and woods converging on opposing sides. So, we stopped and I took this photo. (Much of the time Bill wasn't in it, as he would be riding in front or beside me. )
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Whether you view it looking forward
or looking backward — it always looks beautiful
In traveling Hwy 94 we crossed numerous rivers and creeks. Near the end we came to the last one — North Branch Strutts Creek. We stopped and glanced over the cement railing. The water was fast-moving and clear. We reckoned that it might contain fish. So, I unstrapped my fishing rod from my bike frame, snapped on a midget daredevil, sat down on the cement abutment on the right side, and proceeded to cast. I was positioned about 10 feet above the water. (The reason I fished from there is because I didn't feel like walking through the 3-foot grass and stirring the mosquitoes into a feeding frenzy.)
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Okay, boss, I'll catch one sooner
or later — I promise.
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Yup, I got one!
On the fifth cast a fish grabbed my lure. It turned out to be a brook trout about 8 or 9 inches long.
With that, cameraman Bill decided to become fisherman Bill. He ran back to his bike, assembled his fishing rod, rigged it up and went down to the creek on the other side of the road to fish from the bank, in the long grass. (Being a 35-year U.P. resident, Bill says mosquitoes don't bother him.) So I took the opportunity to snap a photo of him.
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No fish, only mosquitoes
But no more fish were to be caught.
So we continued to the end of Hwy 94 where it intersects Hwy 28, at the tiny town of Shingleton. We then turned westward on 28 and pushed on to our day's destination — Munising.
As we neared Munising a large business sign caught my eye. It read "The Modern Woodsmith." Its product line: "Custom Interior & Exterior Doors." Knowing that Bill enjoys woodworking and things wooden, I asked if he'd like to stop. Instantly he wheeled his bike around and into the parking lot. (One of Bill's sideline pursuits is wooden boat-building, which he does in his garage. He has created an assortment of beautiful crafts, including canoes, kayaks, and rowing boats.)
True to the business's mission, the entrance to this unique workshop said it all.
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Entering the Woodsmith's castle
Just as we were about to open this massive wood door and enter, the door opened and a youngish man beckoned us to come in. It turned out to be the business's founder and owner, Tim Flynn. As we later learned, Tim spent a number of years working for a company as a worker's comp administrator. During that period he pursued his passion for woodworking, on the side. Then, seven years ago, he and his wife decided to move back to his hometown of Munising and turn his avocation into his profession.
Tim first showed us an eye-opening array of beautiful custom-made hardwood doors proudly displayed in his front room. This photo shows one of them.
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Woodworking art
Then, he offered to show us his workshop. Bill jumped at the offer. So, Tim gave us a 20-minute detailed guided tour of his shop. Its equipment and technology were truly impressive, especially to Bill who has substantially more awareness of it than I.
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Woodsmith Tim Flynn gives guided
tour of his company workshop
I wish we had taken a photo of this business's impressive front sign, but we overlooked it. So here's a crude scan of the business card. If you're ever interested in obtaining a beautiful custom-made door for your home or business, you owe it to yourself to explore the unique product and capabilities of The Modern Woodsmith.
After a few more miles we came to Munising. Bill and I had ridden almost 70 miles for that day — the second longest of the tour — and also made a number of stops. It was now 6:30 p.m. The "Welcome to Munising" signs were a happy sight. Just before entering the city, Hwy 28 undergoes a relatively steep and very long descent. I reckon it's at least a half mile long or more. At the bottom was our final destination, the Munising Motel.
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Munising Motel — welcome site
after a long day in the saddle
Basically, this motel is a house with a motel addition on the back. We quickly checked in and went through our arrival ritual of showers, washing shirts and shorts, calling home, and getting ready for dinner. Most U.P. motels don't have air conditioning. However, this one had it. So, to facilitate quicker clothes drying, we positioned our bikes in front of the A/C and then hung our wet clothing on the bike frames to receive benefit of the A/C's blowing air.
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Bikes serve double-duty
Then we had dinner at Sydney's restaurant, about 50 yards down the road. It was a much larger operation than any restaurant we had been to so far. I got the soup and salad bar. Although the restaurant was large and impressive, its salad bar didn't even come close to that of the smaller places we had been to.
As the sun was setting, Bill and I did our usual around-the-town stroll, which took no more than a few minutes. We had our ritual dessert ice cream cone (which was from DQ), and admired the waters of magnificent Lake Superior (a.k.a. Lake Gitche Gumee in Longfellow's The Song of Hiawatha). It was probably more impressive to me than to Bill, as he lives on the water where the St. Mary's River joins the big Lake.