The Bridge

Growing up in Michigan, I've crossed the Mackinac Bridge many times, but it was not until yesterday that I truly appreciated how impressive it is. As I pedaled West, I studied the distance trying to catch my first glimpse of "Big Mac." Once again the sky was thick with clouds, some rolling like waterfalls down to the horizon. Finally, I saw the bridge's five mile span over the Straights of Mackinac.

While biking the TransAmerica Trail, I hit road construction outside the Grand Tetons. In order to pass, I had to take a ride from a worker through the two mile site. Because of that drive, a few friends maintain that I didn't really bike across the country as much as take two really long bike rides. I imagine they would have the same complaint with this ride. Bikers are not allowed to cross the bridge (today is the only day pedestrians can walk across the bridge in an annual Labor Day tradition hosted by the Governor), but for $2 can get a ride across. After scurrying across eight lanes of traffic at the toll booth on I-75, I loaded my bike in the back of a pickup and headed to the lower peninsula.

Serious, Wyoming-style winds ruled the day. Thirty mile per hour gusts blew off the lake, creating twelve foot waves. I had a love-hate relationship with the wind. I loved it when it was at my back, allowing me to cruise up to 25 mph, and I hated it when I turned West and it all but held me in place.

By the time I hit Cross Village at the junction of 119 and Lake Shore, I was ready for a break. I could not have been happier to see the Legs Inn, a unique Polish restaurant that had come recommended by many (including my bridge authority driver). On the way out of the restaurant, I met George, the owner. His uncle built the stone and wood structure. George lamented the weather. It was too cold, damp, and windy for anyone to sit outside in the back gardens overlooking the lake. However, indoors the restaurant was packed. With all its warm wood, it was an inviting space for a cool, fall day. The Michigan game played on the bar T.V. and the restaurant erupted every time the team scored a touchdown -- three times just while I ate my meal.

I left Legs Inn ready for my last twenty-five miles into Petoskey. County Road 119 curves along the coast in a c-shape. This route known as the "Tunnel of Trees" has more in common with a woodlands trail than a road. I appreciated the trees' shelter from the wind and occasional rain shower. Even on an overcast day, this stretch of road is stunningly beautiful.


While it rained sporadically throughout the day, it didn't start in earnest until I was a few miles out from the Petoskey State Park where I planned to stay the night -- weather be damned. I managed to pitch the tent in record speed and quickly took shelter. A little Jim Beam comforted me from the cold rain.