I woke up this morning early but later than planned, but a two-snooze minimum is par for the course for me anyway. Thanks to light Sunday morning traffic though, I was right on time to get my luggage checked in on time (yay Sky Priority!), and boarded quickly after arriving at the gate.

The flight to Detroit was pleasant and easy, and I passed the time by finally diving into a book I recently acquired, Meehan’s Bartender Manual. This hardbound, 477-page tome covers everything from the history of American cocktail culture to bar layout, strategies for dividing up and preparing large and complex cocktail orders, spirits distilling, and of course recipes. I’ve learned more in the first third of this book than I’ve gotten from attending “school” and a couple months on the job combined, and I’m eager to implement some changes in my techniques (I can’t brush off bartender school entirely. It did give me a chance to get hands-on with the tools, and gain enough confidence to go out and ask for a job. It got my foot in the door, which is really all I could ask for.). I’ve also got some ideas for my burgeoning home bar to work into my kitchen renovation, and some new misty dreams of “one day, maybe” bar ownership.

Unfortunately, my anxiety returned on the flight from Detroit to Marquette, as I was leaving one of the only parts of Michigan I’m familiar with. What if I got the day wrong? What if I got the weekend wrong? What’s today’s date? What would I do if I drove all the way to Manistique and no one else was there?

I picked up my bike from Brian’s house, he of the supremely accommodating Quick Stop Bike Shop, spent some time chatting with his mother-in-law, met his wife, and one of his sons. It was cloudy and quite cool there right by the lake, and I was as a bit worried. But as I drove east and south to Manistique, the ceiling lifted and dissipated, and the temperature climbed to a high of 77-degrees, per my rental SUV’s thermometer.

It was 73, sunny, and slightly breezy when I pulled in to the Schoolcraft County Fairgrounds, happy to see that I did not get any details wrong. I quickly checked in at the Comfy Campers tent, rather delighted to discover that my tent is #11, which for reasons unknown, is my number. A good omen?

I went to register, collected my goodies, then headed back to the tent to get familiar with the ride pamphlet. I spent an hour reading through that, writing in my journal, and listening to a grumpy man a few tents down carry on to his group about everything from the parking situation to being hungry, and how going to the rider’s meeting was letting “the man” keep his friends down. I’m not sure if he was joking or not.

At the rider’s meeting I found out all the important stuff I need to know for tomorrow and the rest of the ride, and met a nice man named Steve who looks and even has the affectations of a Michigan co-worker (Vince!). He’s a few Comfy tents down from me, so I’m sure we’ll chat again. Making friends already.

Tomorrow will be an easy day with many places to stop (all days we are provided with SAG stops, situated every 15-ish miles for water and snacks). Tuesday and Wednesday are very off the grid, high mileage, and promise to be the hardest. But one thing at a time.

After the meeting, the task at hand was dinner. In the mood to walk, I strolled downtown past genuine rural America homes and businesses, like the patriotic Elks Lodge, where you can partake in a fish fry dinner every Friday.

A few more shots from my 10-minute walk:

I chose from Google Maps the TAP21 restaurant, with its promise of fried things and beer (what we call carb-loading, thank you very much). Unsurprisingly, the place was packed to capacity with MUP riders, not one seat free for a singleton like me. A sweet bartender said I could order and sit up at the balcony though (even though they didn’t normally allow this), so I ordered a pale ale brewed in Marquette and proceeded alone up some curved metal stairs to my own private area.

No need to feel bad for this single diner. The food runner handed me my basket of sandwich and onion rings from halfway up the stairs and I was left in peace to recap my day here.

Now it’s 9:00pm, and still plenty light enough up here for kids to be riding their bikes on the school tennis courts and playing in yards. Time for me to get organized for tomorrow and get in my sleeping bag, listening to the far-off barking of neighborhood dogs and the seagulls as I drift off to sleep.

Aaaaand of course to the snores of the man in the tent opposite mine. Where are those ear plugs…