In the woods

The big tires at the big rock.

The last time I biked with any real gusto I was in Michigan and collapsed on a searing hot day on the Pere Marquette trail down by the town of Clare, if you know where that is. After three days there in the hospital I suffered the ignominy of getting a ride home from my wife for the second time in two years. See previous posts for all the gory details.

At home in Milwaukee, I moped for a couple of months. I rode my bike listlessly a half dozen times and slowly deteriorated to such a pathetic state that the prospect of a flat 20-mile ride seemed formidable. 

To get out of the house, Ms.V and I took a couple of little car trips -- overnight to Madison, where we found a lot of old professors sitting outside cafes thinking their big thoughts; and to our friends' cabin near Wautoma, where we shared the secret sign of the vaccinated by bumping elbows. 

And now, on our third sojourn -- and thank goodness for generous friends and relatives -- we're up at the Vosper island place, where the stone beach is white and the water is blue blue blue. 

And I brought a new bike. Just before we left I bought a used Mongoose fat bike on Facebook Marketplace for $300 -- pretty cheap in the world of bikes.

And I've actually had fun!

So here are some of my adventures on a fat bike in a land where mud and gravel rule.

The ferry landing.

Neighbors.

                                                                                  Still operating.

Everywhere.

 Hostile hermits.

 

                                                                  Sasquatch lives!

   

More neighbors.

Public restroom decor.

History Part 1.

History Part 2.