Three-fer

Bit of a mashup here.  The stage from Evart, MI, to Bay City was long, and we had to leave later than we wished in order to get behind the rain, and catch a favorable shift in the winds.  

The late-ish arrival, time well spent turning the hotel bar into a profit center, and enjoying a particularly good meal put paid to any notion of posting.

Susan pondering some of the thumb

A slot in the trees.

Seventy-seven more miles in our six.  Eight hundred fifty seven until they all are.

The last day of June  

Our task was to cut the distance to the Blue Water Bridge to a manageable amount, considering that we had only a general idea how long it would take to get across it into Canada.  Cold with a low overcast en route to Sandusky.  Not sure even NatGeo photographers could make anything of it.

We had laundry that needed doing.  My worst packing failure was bringing a pair of tennis shoes, in addition to my cycling shoes.  As it turns out, the cycling shoes somehow manage to have a stiff sole while also being reasonably comfortable for walking, making the tennis shoes somewhat redundant.  Had I not brought them, I could have packed more cycling togs, making laundry a necessity every six days instead of four.

This was a laundry day.  The hotel didn't have guest laundry facilities. (To be fair, it was short on facilities in every other regard, too.)  The town's laundromat was nearly a mile away, a bit of a trudge with each of us carrying a laundry sack.

Imagine, if you will, our disappointment (along with everyone within whiffing range) on arriving there only to find the always open laundromat closed.  Stopped at the only open restaurant on the way back to the hotel.  In response to raised eyebrows, we told our tale of woe.  "Oh, it isn't closed.  Just the front door on account of the street demolition." Whereupon we were led on something of a frog march to the back door.  

To the relief of olfactory senses throughout Sandusky, mission accomplished.

But scarcely any time, nor motivation to put another day into the bike's log.

Sixty-four miles to renewing that fresh feeling.  Three laundry events left.

Adding Canada to the List of States

Short stage today.  Getting from Port Huron to Sarnia, CN requires the Blue Water Bridge, which quite firmly bars pedestrians and cyclists.  We knew in theory how to deal with this — hire a taxi from one of a couple companies providing that service.  Long familiarity with the often embarrassing gaps between theory and reality, we got to Port Huron just before noon.

Beautiful day; dense forest giving way to better views.  Hammers down, no stopping.

Getting across turned out to be super easy, barely an inconvenience.  But spendy.

Fifty international miles, four of them cab-borne.  Seven hundred forty three left.