Almost all day I had either decent shoulders or was on bike path. I had a bike path along the water through much of Muskegon. Then after navigating a short stretch of not so fun road, from not so far north of Muskegon on I was on bike path essentially all the way to Hart, a shorter path connecting to the Montague-Hart Trail, with just a brief section in that stretch where I had to get off on a detour for construction, but it was on quiet roads. The bike path was just recently resurfaced and in excellent condition, running through wooded sections and connecting little towns. It was weirdly surreal when just shortly into the trail, as I had grown accustomed to the quiet, solitary woodland atmosphere...I suddenly heard screaming, and looked to my left to see a huge roller coaster dominating my view over the trees. Apparently Adventure Michigan is right next to the bike path.
Most of the trail though was very calm and peaceful, nicely scenic if not often exciting. A mural I saw in one town along it showed every town in connected and also claimed it was the first rails to trails trail in the state. I enjoyed my time on it. Especially as I had a wonderful south wind pushing me along, so I got to soar along the path I had almost all to myself, usually not seeing anyone for fifteen or more minutes at a time.
It was disappointing when the trail ended, as it spit me out in the middle of Hart and made me navigate streets to get on a well trafficked road with not the nicest shoulder, leading to a decent enough non-primary highway that took me the rest of the way to Ludington. Getting to be on bike trail as much as I did today, I definitely can't complain. Roger had warned me about one big hill I would face as I approached Ludington. And it was nice to have the forewarning with as flat as I've grown accustomed to things being lately. But with my low gearing, I was able to mosey my way on up at 6 mph without any trouble. And shortly after I was navigating my way through town and then arriving here with my hosts for the night.
...It's odd to think now that I cried this morning. It seems so distant, a world away. I'm not sure what it was, perhaps the tragic death of five cyclists run down by a seriously messed up driver not far from here that has been all over the news the last couple...but I thought about my grandmother who died just before I left, and friend who killed herself not a week later. I thought about them for the first time since I started this trip. And I grieved, I processed, and the tears felt like warm, wet relief on my sunburnt cheeks, the taste of salt on my upturned lips. I cried and I smiled and I was happy in my sadness. Life is fragile, and as much as we want to think ourselves, in our largely safe, comfortable, isolated lives, to be free of the game of death that rules the natural world, we aren't. We can all die at any moment, from something so simple and stupid as one man driving a pickup truck when he shouldn't be behind the wheel. An easy day or a hard day as a cyclist is all dependent on the wind's favor. Health and illness, life and death, I think are as close and as far, as unpredictable and subject to chance, as a turn in the wind. But living? That's a choice, made every day, to have new experiences, to tackle another adventure, to eke everything you can out of every moment you have left, however many or few that may be. I don't know if I'll see a hundred or be killed by some maniac driver tomorrow (which sadly is the most probable way for someone my age to go), but I know that I want to live every day until I die. Whether it's a nice, easy day like today, favored by wind and weather, or it's a rough day, as tomorrow might always be, I want to live it up to the last drop.
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