The fifth day of the road trip got the adventure underway in earnest. My original goal was to go up the western shore of Michigan but due to a GPS blunder, I ended up taking the eastern route: S-23 along Lake Huron to Saginaw City. Such is the way of Motorcycle touring. It’s really bothersome to continually adjust a GPS on the fly, so second-guessing and uncertainty are a constant with mistakes creeping in from time-to-time. After many miles are invested in an error, it’s just as well to redefine and take the new route.
Once I got off the interstate onto S-23 and into the upper regions of Michigan, the ride became very pleasant. The weather was just about perfect and the shoreline road was scenic and in good shape. The scenery consisted mostly of well kept houses between the shoreline and road with occasional small towns and breaks to view the lake. There were also plenty of rest stops to tempt. Being a sucker for rest stops, I pulled over at one and tended to some resting and business; I needed to make a phone call and my backside was getting a little uncomfortable. My compliments to the state of Michigan on such well kept facilities.
I don’t know what it is, but people just can’t resist talking to me when I’m out on my bike fully loaded for touring. They are very interested in my travels and want to share their own stories which is why rest stops can sometimes take a lot longer than one would think. That’s part of the fun so there’s no use in worrying about the time.
Ultimately I stopped at Harrisville State Park and set up my tent for the evening. After putting up the tent and piling all of my crud into the thing, I noticed there was a big tree leaning directly over the tent. I'm sure the tree is probably still leaning at that same spot, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I unloaded the tent and moved it to a more suitable location.
The layout of the campground and the lateness of the day did not give me much of a chance to get to know my camping neighbors (and possibly score some free food ), so I headed out for dinner in the little town of Harrisville. I found a sports bar right off the main road and settled in for a feast of hot wings with fries. Riding all day makes for some peculiar dining choices. I also had a couple of beers and watched a little pre-season football.
On the way back to the campsite, I stopped at the local convenience store for fuel and snacks. The young man working there looked as though he wanted to be somewhere else so I struck up a conversation about his apparent boredom. He freely admitted his desire to be elsewhere and proudly informed me that he would be leaving for Marine Corp boot camp in a couple of days. I could see that he was excited and anxious. I was very impressed with this young man and couldn’t help but feel concern for his safety and future.
Back to the campground I went. It was dark when I arrived at my site and I pulled up to an area where I thought there were rocks on the ground. That’s good because the ground was not that firm and I needed a hard spot on which to place my side stand. As it turns out, the rocks were depleted charcoal from an old campfire -- did I mention it was dark? When I put the side-stand down and let the bike go, it kept going. The FJR is a heavy bike: 670lbs full of fuel (which it was, and I had a top case). The bike was about halfway down before I managed to stop the fall. I was pretty much stuck holding the thing in a bad spot. I couldn’t get it up, but I didn’t want to drop it. It was just too heavy to lift back up while sitting on the seat. Fortunately, I managed to slide my right leg off the bike while bracing my left knee under the tank. At that point, I was able to get my back into the pushing and got it back up again. If my tent and crud had been strapped to the seat, it would have gone down. I’ve never dropped this bike and it would have been depressing to start. Alls well that ends well.
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| Harrisville Camp Site |
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| Fortress of Solitude |
Distance traveled today equals 494 miles.
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