Today was perfect.

First off, it was nice not having to wake up at a certain time and pack up. On these trips, the little things become sweeter.

When I stuck my head out of the tent this morning, it was very breezy, overcast, and cold. I was disappointed, but had hopes for weather improvement. If I’ve learned anything about Michigan weather, it’s that it can change rapidly. So far this has resulted in me being cold a lot, but sometimes the change is good.

My first stop of course was the laundromat, and I set out with my dirty laundry stuffed in my sleeping bag bag, bungee-corded to my rack. Improvisation is sometimes required when traveling by bicycle.

I’d been promising myself a leisurely cup of real coffee this day, so with my freshly cleaned clothes strapped back onto the bike, my next stop was the Velodrome coffee shop, where most of the LMB guys were already sipping their beverages, tucked into books or chatting. I obtained a strong coffee and joined Scott at the window bar looking out at the street. I enjoyed hanging with him and getting to know him better. This group of guys are so different from most of the men I know. They are cyclists, professors, teachers, readers, writers, activists, and agents of change for what they believe in. Hearing of their experiences and perspectives was incredibly interesting.

I took some time to return work calls and spoke for a while to a friend back home, but eventually, I reached such a level of caffeination where I could feel my very bones shaking, so I went off in search of lunch. A block down the road I was hailed by Jason, Travis, and Jerick, and they decided to join me at the Mexican restaurant I was headed for.

By this time the clouds had completely cleared, blessing us with a most glorious day. It was sunny, pleasantly cool, and still breezy, the kind of day we only see in Florida during our short fall and spring. The southern definition of July definitely does not apply in the UP.

Lunch was a lovely affair featuring good food, a nice view of the lake, great conversation, and real silverware. The food supplied on the trip was good and greatly appreciated, since this is the first tour I’ve done that provided breakfast and dinner, but relaxing in a nice restaurant while not wearing a biking kit was a real treat.

After lunch, the four of us decided to visit the defunct ore dock across the street, a giant rusted metal structure we could only imagine the workings of. I’ve never seen an ore dock before, and major components of it had long since been hauled away. Fortunately, there was a working ore dock a few miles down the road, so later I was able to complete the picture and understand how the whole system worked:

What happens is, special rail cars full of iron ore balls are taken out to the top of the ore dock structure on a track. Large metal chutes are then lowered, the bottom of the cars opened, and the ore pours out into the waiting ship below.

After viewing the old ore dock, we headed back up to Remy’s for one beer and an exchange of group members. I then moved on with a mostly new group of five, led by Terry, who knows the area and is an excellent person and tour guide, despite the fact that his mileage estimation skills are somewhat lacking.

Unfortunately, we lost Jason on the way to public relations duties at a bike shop, but Terry led Scott, Travis, and me on to Presque Isle Park, which I’d really wanted to visit but had given up hope on seeing because of the morning’s weather.

I’m so glad I made it. The paved trail loops around the small peninsula, through the beautiful forest along the water. We stopped at the Black Rocks, Presque Isle’s main attraction, climbing around on the rocky outcropping, taking pictures and exclaiming at the beauty of it all.

Then a most wonderful thing happened. Travis said he wished he could jump off, and I told him I’d do it if he would. We made our way over to the jumping off point, and after some excited deliberation and cajoling by me, the two of us stripped off our shirts and shoes and tiptoed to the edge of the rocky point.

It looked like a long way down, and I knew the water was very cold. I am still slightly surprised at my boldness, but I was hopped up on adrenaline and being on vacation, I wanted to experience everything I could. So, we made our agreement, I grasped Travis’s arm, and on three, we jumped.

It was quite the descent, and I screamed the whole way down, partially out of fear, and partially for fun. Then I plunged into the clear, ice cold water feet first, and from a surprising depth, kicked my way back to the surface.

Cold is not a strong enough description of the temperature of that water. It literally took my breath away and felt like fire on my exposed skin. I hadn’t been worried about the swim back to the beach, but I quickly realized that I could neither speak or swim normally. My whole body was contracted, my muscles not responding properly to the commands my brain was issuing. I did a modified breast stroke for a bit, and then fear genuinely set in, and I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. The pebbled beach looked far away, and there was no other place to get out.

Between short bursts of a sloppy freestyle and the modified breaststroke, I finally made it to where I could touch, and gingerly picked over the rocky bottom to shore. Death defied again.

Out of the water, the exhilaration returned. My skin still felt like it was on fire, but I could not have been happier. I’d done the thing, leaped from the edge. Had it all ended right there, it would have been okay. Travis and I high-fives and climbed back up to where we’d left the bikes, rejoining Scott and Terry, the latter of which produced a towel from his panniers and who is magical like that.

At this point the fellas were dangerously close to being late for their volunteer dinner back in town, so we pedaled fast the few miles back and entered the Vierling Restaurant and Marquette Brewery. Despite having become part of the LMB group, I didn’t want to crash dinner, so I borrowed Jason’s book and sat at the bar.

The bar there is excellent, well stocked and attractive, and I ordered a blueberry mule from the extensive signature cocktail menu. I’d like very much to work at a bar like this.

The drink was tasty, and my goat cheese and beet salad excellent. As I sat reading randomly selected stories from Jason’s book, a few of the guys would stop by and say hi and chat, and I felt so accepted. My greatest fear during the rare times when I fall into an already cohesive group like that is that I’m actually viewed as a hanger-on, merely being tolerated. Throughout the day I’d been trying to give them a chance to break away, but that never happened. They felt like my friends now.

The well-written stories in The Moth suddenly inspired me to start a journal entry, a sub-story of the trip so far. I scribbled furiously in my Leuchtturm1917, my handwriting becoming messier as I tried to pour all my thoughts out before the moment of inspiration passed. Then Jason was at my side, the group was leaving, and my story ended mid-sentence, and it remains that way in my blue-green journal.

Earlier we’d passed by a retro clothing store, me yelling out how much I loved the dresses in the window. Now Terry urged me that we could stop in, so he, Jason and I left the bikes and stepped inside.

What a glorious store! The front was stocked with faux-retro women’s clothes and some awesome men’s shirts, the back holding a selection of vintage clothing, household item, and sundry tchotchkes.

Little though I needed it, I purchased a new dress, a black and white polka dot creation with a pointed collar and turned up sleeve cuffs.

Upon leaving the store, I received a message:

I’d made the group text.

Silly as it seems, that text was one of the highlights of the day. True acceptance into a group of awesome individuals I’d met only days before.

I have a hard time holding on to people, my independent nature causing me to put insufficient effort into maintaining friendships. I can’t say I have a best friend, and I’m part of only one small but wonderful friend group at home. Even though for only for the last part of this week, being accepted into this group elevated the entire tour experience in a way so would not have foreseen or ever hoped for.

The Crib in Marquette is a cozy coffee shop in a house, full of comfortable chairs and couches, offering not only coffee drinks, but beer and some mixed drinks. I got a Sapphire gin and tonic, and fell into conversation with Jason, kicked back in an armchair, a round side table between us. Scott snoozed in a chair by the window, and Terry, Travis, Matt, and Jerick chatted and read.

Jason and I talked about the things we love, family, past traumas, what we do and what we’ve done, and I told him about my metal health journey. It was an unexpected golden hour in a day already full of joy, experience, and laughter.

After a long while, the group decided to move on, and it was time to head back to camp. Up and down the hills we rode, then went our separate ways to tents and other duties.

I’d asked Jason before parting if he’d like to continue our conversation that evening, and while I was dozing later, he banged on my tent roof, carrying two sodas, two snack bags of popcorn, and bug spray. We headed for the playground swings across the field and talked until I got too cold, moving into the lighted, warm gym, continuing till past midnight.

Thanks probably to the hundreds of milligrams of caffeine still coursing through my veins from the morning, after retiring to my tent I tossed and turned until 4:00 AM, securing myself only about two hours of sleep. Despite though the lack of rest, which was mounting every day, I was alert and happy as day six began.