A Superior Tour

Customarily, I don’t plan my adventures very far in the future, maybe four or five months. But this trip was different. I had planned to ride my bike around Lake Superior, a distance of 1,500 miles that I expected would take three weeks. Initially, I invited a few friends, but I didn’t have high expectations that anyone would come with me. One friend did purchase a new bicycle and ‘trained’ with me. However, it became apparent that he struggled even biking 60 miles without anything more than water, snacks, and beer. Yes, he felt inclined to bring beer – a six-pack – on our training runs. Suffice it to say, an abundance of beer is not compatible with long-distance biking – or even a day ride for that matter.

A year earlier, I flew myself and my recycled bicycle out to Denver, CO, to ride back to Madison, WI. I had a flat tire every morning for the first ten days, which was nearly the entire trip. The thorns of dreaded goat’s head plants – imagine a syringe with twenty heads on it – had their way with my plans, and my tires had no chance. On this trip, I was determined not to have that happen again, so I brought ample spare inner tubes as well as a full floor-standing pump. It was ridiculous! But so is PTSD from having flats every morning for a week and a half.

I convinced my girlfriend to drive me 4.5 hours to Hurley, WI, to the rest stop at Highways 2 and 51. She is a kind soul and understands how important these trips are to my well-being. She, along with a kind Michigan trail angel, would provide me with bags overflowing with wonderful food. It is always good to commence these trips with lots of positive energy. My girlfriend and I bid adieu, and I am left with the enormity of the trip before me.

For me, the little pleasures of life are very enjoyable. For example, the Walmart in Ashland brought relief when one of my water bottle cages required attention. A bonus in Ashland is the artesian springs. The springs are contained in a little hut right next to the highway. There is a line of cars, motorcycles, and bicycles at the spring. It is a taste of Wisconsin – delicious! It is also my first real glimpse of Lake Superior.

The French voyageurs named Lake Superior. Superieur, as I would soon learn, can mean “high” or “better.” The lake fits both. It is so enormous that all the other Great Lakes can fit into it – with much room to spare. It is also so clean that its water can be drunk without filtration, at least away from the major cities along its shore.

On the first day out, I realize my stove had gone bad. Of course, I am in denial and additionally stop at a couple of houses for help. It turns out that the valve O-ring needed replacing. However, in the process of trying to fix it, I end up destroying the entire pump. Fortunately, I can buy a new pump in Duluth and will have an extra set of O-rings. But first, I must eat some cold meals and miss out on some Chicken Fat mushrooms. 

On the third night, I camp at a cliff overlooking the lake at Split Rock State Park in Minnesota. It’s a little crazy to be practically bushwhacking down hiking trails with my overloaded bicycle. I realize that I didn’t plan my trip with respect to where I will camp. And the Minnesota shore is very windy, which makes biking especially fatiguing. But eventually I find a very nice campsite…as well as mosquitoes. I build a fire, but to little avail. (Later, after returning home, I find out that these pests have given me a couple of infectious diseases. Yuck!) I learned that in the North Country you need a tent, and you should jump in your tent before sundown with your pee bottle and don’t go back out until you are ready for battle. There was more than one morning where I ate my breakfast on the highway.

I have been pedaling along Highway 61 ever since Duluth, and I keep thinking about Bob Dylan and his seminal album, Highway 61 Revisited. It is always good to have a song or songs in the jukebox. Maybe Bob Dylan is the theme of this trip? 

I make it to the border of Canada, north of Grand Portage, in fewer than five days – I try to average 80 miles per day. But a trip like this is not a race; there’s always a need to balance making some distance and making time for pleasure. After crossing the border, I feel like I am in another country, which of course I am. The border patrol agent questions me: “Did you make reservations?” I want to answer with a pithy reply, but instead I wryly answer, “I don’t think that is possible.” I think the border patrol agents just like to harass me because they are bored. Maybe it doesn’t help that I am disheveled and don’t fit any stereotype.

Lake Superior might be the most remote of the Great Lakes, but it isn’t very isolated. I would consider it rather urban. On these urban trips, rather than staying in the forest (or “in the bush” as the Canadians say), I often camp at people’s houses. Unlike in the U.S., the Ontarians are rather skittish of me. Eventually, after some effort, I do find an older man who permits me to camp in his yard. Here too there are more mosquitoes, but I am catching on to their patterns.

I roll into Thunder Bay and onto the Trans Canadian Highway (TCH). It is an industrial city with traffic and urban problems. I am delirious, partly from riding on busy roads and partly from hunger. I wander into a drugstore that is also a grocery store, and nothing feels right. Canada is confusing. I then walk across the parking lot to a Little Caesar’s Pizza Shop. Surprisingly, I befriend the manager of the shop, and she tells her employee to give me whatever I want. Trail magic is wonderful.

The TCH is a major thoroughfare for trucks, and many stretches of it through Ontario do not have a proper bike lane. It is not fun to bike under these conditions, but the landscape is beautiful. Not long after passing Nipigon, it begins to storm, and I take refuge at a rest stop gazebo. The lightning over the Lake is awe-inspiring. And then a fellow bicyclist arrives. He has been riding in this fierce thunderstorm as well. We introduce ourselves; his name is Guillaume, and he is from Quebec.

Before I began this trip, my trail angel from Michigan had read my cards – something I had never experienced before. My trail angel said I would meet another cyclist and would ride with him for two days. As you can imagine, I was doubtful; this was a very specific premonition. My trail angel is a modern-day witch, which befuddles and amuses me.

Well, Guillaume was racing across Canada, starting in Vancouver. While it was his first big adventure, he was a proper bicyclist with the right gear and the correct build. You can see from the photo that I tower over him. I am 6’4” and not a bicyclist and didn’t start with the typical bicycling gear; instead, I had a backpack and a basket. As predicted, we rode together for two days. I struggled to keep pace with him and even tried to ride with him for a third day, but that lasted an hour. Guillaume and I are now friends. It is nice to make solid connections with strangers, nicer still to be part of humanity.

I met many wonderful people in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ontario, and Upper Michigan. Upon reflection, the bicycle trip allowed me to renew my faith in humanity, to realize that we all need a social contract. That life is about relationships and is not transactional. I realized that I cannot let fear dominate me, and that without risk there is no reward. Ironically, I did not have another flat tire, although I was determined to use my pump.

Afterward, when I lay in bed at night, I thought about the wonderful camping spot I found at Lake Superior Provincial Park. I was all alone at the beach surrounded by fog and the serenity of the lake. It was heaven, and it helps me fall asleep to think about this spot, as it epitomizes peace.

My advice: you will never regret doing a trip like the Lake Superior Tour. Ride your ride, which means go at your own pace. Yes, you will face a lot of insecurity. These trips are never anxiety-free at the start. However, being voluntarily homeless for a short time is wonderful: it forces you to seek out help from strangers. Insecurities will be left aside, and your heart and mind will be at peace.

The gear doesn’t really matter. Everyone has their personal preferences, but you don’t need to spend a lot. And it is not a race. We Americans (and Canadians) think that it is, but that undermines our enjoyment of the trip. Make time to jump in for a swim in Lake Superior. Take some time to chat with the people of the native nations. (They have wonderful smoked fish!) A trip is not a resume builder, but rather life itself. It is a way to be in touch with nature, the cycles of the moon and the cosmos. Be forewarned: a trip like this is addictive – and it will change your life.