I cannot say that I was feeling my best for the final day of riding, which was fortunately again only forty-six miles and supposedly mostly downhill. Once I awakened by a banging on my tent by a Comfy Campers staff member, having failed to set an alarm, the camp was nearly empty. It was only 6:45 AM, but riders had headed out insanely early, eager I suppose to get back to their cars and return to real life (but why?). I was not eager. Not only did I have all day to get back to Marquette after the ride since I was not flying out till Sunday morning, I didn’t want the week to end.

I slowly readied myself to ride and loaded my dresser-sized deployment bag on to the truck one last time. Foregoing both coffee and breakfast, which was probably nearly over anyway at the late hour of 8:11 AM, I quickly downed a Cliff Bar and clipped in.

At the first hill of the day I fell into conversation with another rider named Tom from Roswell, Georgia. Incredibly, he and his wife had been on the BRAG tour with me last year, though we did not meet then. We talked on and off for a good part of the ride. He was a stronger rider than me and would periodically pull ahead after staying with me for a few miles. I also elected not to stop at any SAGs, afraid to lose my momentum, as I was riding slightly hungover. Tom was stopping, though, so we’d pick our conversation back up when he caught up to me again. Long rides are like that, and I talked to my camp friends along the way all week in that fashion, at SAG stops and on the road.

This final day once again gave us beautiful weather, the wind at my back, with a pleasant mix of forest and farmland for scenery. The smooth roads held little traffic, and I wheeled away the miles alternately listening to music, my phone stuck down the front of my jersey (no earbuds!) or enjoying some mental music. My brain repeated the lyrics from a favorite Rush song quite a bit:

Freeze this moment a little bit longer

Make each sensation a little bit stronger

Experience slips away

Experience slips away

Time stand still

Arriving back in Manistique again was both relief and sadness. All the time that I gathered my bag, stowed everything back in the rental car, went down to the school showers, and hung around while the guys completed their duties, I ran into my new friends, exchanging phone numbers and hugging goodbye.

Then it was just me, Jason, Matt, Scott, and Terry. We went down to the Manistique main street, where a truly wonderful county street fair called Folk Fest was happening, featuring an older couple on a stage serving up mad polka tunes, grandma jamming on the drums. We slipped into Marley’s Tavern, grabbing a row of seats at the bar, a delightful breeze pushing through the screen door now and again.

The service was slow but the onion rings and beer were good. We sat mostly quiet, distracted by the extreme sports playing on the TV above the bar. We were all tired and worn out, and Jason admitted that he was starting to feel those post-vacation blues. I was getting them too.

Out on the sunny street we all shared one last goodbye, then it was over. I got in my rental car and pointed it back towards Marquette, where I had to find the Quick Stop Bike Shop so they can send it back home for me. The drive was lonely and pretty bad, as I struggled to stay awake. I did actually drift off a few times, once only waking when my right wheels left the pavement, dust kicking up behind me. The fear of that near-disaster roused me well enough to make it into town without further incident.

Back in town, I drove past the places I’d had so much fun at with the LMB guys, and my throat constricted with sadness as I noticed The Crib coffee shop. Tears welled up in earnest as I passed the now deserted school where we’d camped.

Relieved of Bianca, I arrived at the Model Towne Inn, the only accommodations in the desolate little town of Gwinn, and the closest bed I could find to Sawyer International (It has one ticket counter, LOL).

The exterior of the Model Towne had me a bit worried, but a lovely older lady checked me in, and the room was clean and quiet. There was even a window that actually worked, and I slid it all the way open to enjoy the cooler air, my view a brushy field dotted with pines.

I updated my mom via text that I was safe at my day’s destination, then laid down for a nap. I truly meant to get back up and neatly repack my bag and set an alarm, but after waking from the nap, I almost immediately fell back asleep, not waking till 5:45 AM on Sunday.