The Rootbeer Run, Chasing the Sun, and other misadventures

[Parepin]

Originally Posted by Blagadán

That video clip of your tour around the packard plant was awsome!

When I saw all those loose floorboards you were riding across, all I could think of was "i hope he doesnt pick up any nails or splinters in his tyres"!!! lol.

thanks for sharing that, excellent stuff.

The flooring was laid over concrete, so it wasn't so much of an issue. I had more trouble dodging the pipes and chains hanging from the ceiling. Caught one in the shoulder at one point.

[Utah Bones]

Wow!

[Parepin]

Someone out there likes me. So I find this in my mail last week.











Fuckin awesome. Thanks SR!

[Parepin]

I continued on well into the night, meeting Brian at his parents place in Sanford. What a house. Right on the lake, a Porsche in the garage and golden faucets. I got in a quick shower and made camp in the guest room after introductions were exchanged. The next day I followed Brian to his place of employment. His father owns a large sporting equipment company, known as Rogers Athletics. This was a hell of a shop. Brian's office, which he shared with his brother Grant, was more or less the ground floor of an old wing of a Kraft cheese plant. Skateboards were used to navigate the “office”. Project cars littered the floor alongside bikes of various ages. There was a room full of boulders used for R/C rock crawling, which Brian was quick to point out only existed to deal with the long Michigan winters and didn't see much use in the summer.

So I spent the day tooling around the shop and working on my bike a bit. I picked up some clutch plates and brake pads I had sent ahead of me and Brian fabbed together an aluminum T replacement part for the external Thermo-bob, as the original had been destroyed in the close encounter with the Dodge. I took the opportunity to grab some lunch with Brian and pay him back an outstanding debt from way back in my poor college student years. He didn't seem to care too much about it, but was surprised that I had remembered. It felt good to give back. Wish I could have done more.



From there I continued north-west and made camp for the night along the shores of Crystal Lake. As night fell, I took the opportunity to wander out into the lake and get my scrub-on. Tossing a bar of Irish Spring into an inside-out tube sock, I went to town in waist deep water and watched as a thunderstorm rolled in from the lake. Back at the tent, I sat in the vestibule and attempted to snap some photos of the lightning in the night sky, rather unsuccessfully. Suddenly, an immense roar shook my cranium and I was knocked back into the tent by an intense rush of wind. The tent threatened to collapse in on me and I worried the aluminum poles wouldn't take much more abuse. I ran out and tied down the tent using whatever I could, from my hard boxes to driftwood and even the kickstand of the KLR. A hell of a storm. I sparked one as I watched the lightning pass through and drifted off to sleep.

[jpdude999]

Aaannnd, I'm in. Like I have time to kill, fuckyouverymuch!

[jpdude999]

But seriously, I feel you, brother. My sig says it all, pretty much sums up how many of us here feel, but so few get to do. Keep on keepin' on. You make it back out to San Diego, hit me up. I always have Guinness in the fridge.

[Wildbill650]

Great story, i am subscribed. Wish you the best of luck and i will be looking for more great pictures. Ever in MN let me know

[Parepin]

Originally Posted by jpdude999

Aaannnd, I'm in. Like I have time to kill, fuckyouverymuch!

You're lucky I don't charge your ass to enjoy the show.








Now go get me a beer










And roll me a doobie

[jpdude999]

Originally Posted by Parepin

You're lucky I don't charge your ass to enjoy the show.



Now go get me a beer




And roll me a doobie

[Parepin]

Packed up camp the next morning the followed the coast north into Petosky and towards Mackinaw city via route 119. This was an awesome road, with portions weaving in and out of the woods along the coast on a narrow 2-lane shoulderless route. I rocketed through the shadows of the old growth, weaving through whatever sunlight managed to reach the worn road through narrow windows in the canopy. By far one of my favorite roads, all be it a little on the short side. I had to fight the urge to turn around and take another whack at it.



Over the Mackinac Bridge, which in itself was quite an adventure with a mile of steel decking and a cross wind that threatened to rip my helmet off, I landed on the other side, the Upper Peninsula. Now let me say this, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a very different beast than the main land. The people, affectionatly known as “Yoopers”, are a crazy bunch. But the best part is the crazy network of dirt and sandy roads criss-crossing the countryside in a web of high octane shits and giggles. I continued heading north towards what was labeled on my map as the Sunken Boat Museum at Whitefish Point. I ran out of fuel just before town and had to drop the bike on it's left side to slosh over my secret reserve, nearly blowing an o-ring trying to pick the fully loaded enduro back upright again. The museum was pretty interesting, and I had my first pasty here. That's “Pah-stee”, not “Pay-stee.” Don't make the same mistake I did. Anyway, I had a fun time, but I fear the place has forever ruined “The Edmond Fitzgerald” for me as it played over the loudspeakers over, and over, and over again. Just before leaving a couple of guys pulled up along side me and started shooting the shit with me. They were both clearly drunk and informed me that they were musicians, then proceeded to sing to me.... I chuckled... and mounted up, making camp for the night in a vacant/closed state run campground. Got a good fire going on the beach before brushing the coals aside and spending a good portion of the night just laying in the pit of super-heated sand. Awesome.







Woke up to a light drizzle that showed no signs of slowing. Headed west from here, knocking around a few back country sandy roads but never really getting anywhere, so back to the asphalt to get some miles under my belt. I hit up the Pictured Rock park, hitting a few hiking trails along the way. At one point, standing at the top of what was known as the log slide, I felt like I was standing on the edge of the world. Quite literally, the land just seemed to plummet from below me to crash into the ocean far below. In any other situation, I would have taken this opportunity to straight up tumble down the sandy embankment to the beach, but the climb back up was rather intimidating, especially considering my new handicap. Other impressive sites included a newly restored light house of some such historical importance, and a lone white pine growing on one hell of a strange land formation just off shore, it's roots bridging the gap to mainland and providing what nourishment it could. With the heavy fog in the air, it left a very surreal impression. That is until a wildlife officer came around the bend and began handing out tickets to those that ventured too close. Dammit. So back I turned and mounted the KLR, the rain beginning to pick up a bit by now.











I spent several days in the area, bouncing around the back roads as the rain continued to pelt down relentlessly. I really started to question my decision at this point. I was soaked do the very core, and my dry bag was proving to be less than. Every piece of gear was caked with wet clay and the very clothes I was wearing had begun to reek of mildew. So back to the asphalt I went to just get away. Stopping at a Dairy Queen for a cheap meal, a couple approached me and began questioning me on my travels. We chatted a bit, and the Mrs. slipped a $10 into my pocket for gas money. I thanked her profusely before continuing on my way. I tooled around a few, checking out the sights and just enjoying a moment of dry weather. Some time shortly before nightfall, I pulled into a campground and made a loop. Oddly enough, several camp sites were decorated in full on Christmas lights. And not just the lights, inflatable snowmen and plastic Santas littered the fifth wheels. I was waved down and pulled over to find the same folks from the DQ just a few hours before. They invited me to share a camp site with them and I took them up on the offer. Setting up my tent, I crawled in, completely exhausted. I could hear the group, about a dozen of them now, around the communal fire pit but was just too tired to join them. I knew I was being rude, but I would socialize in the morning. For now, sleep.

[Parepin]

How are the picture sizes for everyone? I've been doing all of this on a netbook with a small screen, so I'm having trouble gauging how big to make my images.

[ShadyRascal]

Picture sizes are perfect, Alex.

[Utah Bones]

Perfect! Keep it rolling.....

[Jettn Jim]

They suck...get yer head outta your ass!











Juuust kidd'n They are perfect, ya don't haveta drag the bar across the screen to read the entire sentence it's all right there....Way gooder

[MikeyT]

Agreed! The pic size now is great. The story's not bad either.