Some Days...

So, I didn't sleep much last night. That damned raccoon just kept on coming back. I'd wake to the sound of rustling, yell at him (or her), and he would run off, I'd go back to sleep...and twenty minutes later I'd be waking up to the bastard right back at it. I really, really wished I had a tent. It was one of those nights you endure rather than sleep through. The best sleep I got was only after the sun was up, and with it, the raccoon gone. And that meant I got around late. But I figured that would be alright, with only 70 miles to go today. I ate a bagel and some crackers with squeezable cheese for breakfast as I packed up. I noticed a bunch of kids gathered around the dumpster as I was walking over to throw some stuff away. I asked what they were up to, and they told me they were looking at the raccoons in the trash. And sure enough, there were half a dozen young raccoons in the dumpster, probably the kids of the big one that hassled me all night. Blasted raccoons. The kids just thought they were so adorable. ...The bad thing is that they were.

Then I hightailed it out of the campground, following the route Google told me. I saw a runner coming the other way, showing surprise at my presence. ...And I learned why as I discovered the path Google had sent me on ended right at a big locked gate. It would be a useful path right to the bike trail if it weren't locked. A slender person could fit through (which would include me), but there was no hope to fit the bike. I can only assume that it is to insure that bicyclists have to enter through the main gate so they can't get around that $2 entrance fee... So, first thing in the morning I was turning around.

But it wasn't long before I had backtracked and made it back on to the Calumet Trail where I had turned off to enter the park yesterday. Life was good, biking the gravelly, but not uncomfortable, trail all to myself with marsh on either side of me. Until I hit a stretch where a huge muddy pool of brackish, mosquito infested water covered the trail. I wasn't biking through it. I refused. I was not going to have my bike and gear and me covered in muck from the spray all over again. So I walked my bike around the outskirts, not getting my shoes TOO wet or muddy, and carried on. ...Until I hit another such pool, and another, and another. I actually carried my bike as I slogged through the outer edges of these pools, mosquitos swarming all around, nasty water up to my ankles. It seemed absurd, and it was, but I kept hoping I'd see the end of them, didn't want to just turn around (though had I done so right away it assuredly would have been faster), and biking through would mean having everything filthy, not just my feet. Just to the left of the marsh was a railroad track, and just to the left of it beyond a tree line I could often see the traffic on the highway, so close, so much where I wanted to be, but beyond impassable terrain. It took an age, and a miserable one, before I finally reached a crossroad that could take me the several hundred feet to the highway, now with my feet feeling gritty and squishy for the rest of the day.

The highway wasn't much fun either. But eventually I got off onto a drive along the lakeshore, full of pricy homes with private beaches, very little traffic. I missed the turn to get off it though, in the theme of the day, and had to bike back a ways and meander through suburban windings to get back on the highway. After highway 12, the Red Arrow Highway, which I was on much of the day, save a few blissful detours to side roads by the lake, was not a pleasant one. It was shoulderless, decently trafficked, and in terrible condition.

But after St Joseph's, a cool town I would have liked to see more of and would have if I wasn't running so late, I got on M 63 and things got better with a shoulder as wide as a lane. ...Of course when it turned to A2 that disappeared altogether. But it came back as I hit the county line and reached the Blue Star Highway, and remained for the rest of the ride. Despite the wind in my face, I found myself feeling a second wind coming on, and as I neared the end I biked strong, ready to be done. I could feel the exhaustion like a creeping blackness at the edges of my newfound energy, clearly driven by a sleep-deprived high, but I ignored it. I didn't manage to keep it up, and felt dead on the pedals for the last three miles. But I made it. I was done with my day of frustration.

My host for the night arrived back shortly after I did. I got my maintenance taken care of, including pumping up my tires that I'd let drop to 40 psi (with my hand pump, as their only pump was some Schwinn foot operated thing I couldn't make do anything), and doing my best to remove the remaining factory lubricant and put on Squirt, and then headed in. I got my much needed shower and got my laundry goint. I ate a meal of asparagus and potatoes, later supplemented with a smoothie from avocado, banana, cacao, and dates (surprisingly good), was taken to the nearby cliff dropping to the lake, chatted with her friends who came over (asked lots of questions about Couchsurfing and my minimalist approach to possessions) and then was taken for a drive around South Haven. It was nice, a good end to the day at least. I crashed out hard on the couch before being able to finish this entry, typing the last of it this morning. I'm glad it's a new day.