Day 2, July 4, Gravel, Rail Trail, and Chip Seal

Day 2, July 4
76 miles
Alma to Saranac

Wow, what a day! I’m exhausted and burnt out—temps hovered in the high 80s and humidity was bad—but I feel like I did a lot.

First, last night—I stealth camped at a county preserve. What was great was there was no road access, so I felt safe. I went to Meijers and bought chicken, danishes for breakfast, and a gallon of water. Last night I slept so sound, only waking once to pee.

This a.m. before leaving I filled all my bottles and left the rest on the shelf for the Girl Scouts. I was on the Fred Meijer Heartland Trail by 6:20 across the Pione River. I was still tired from yesterday, so would pedal and then pause, on repeat. It took me almost 3 hours to get to Erdmore where I took a Danish break and made tea. By 11:15 I was in Greenville, where I took another big break. It was already terribly hot.

Overall the Heartland Trail was quite remote, not a lot of houses. Truly the heartland of Michigan—some farms, meadows and woods. No water faucets, not a lot of restrooms. Only scattered places to get food and electrolytes.

By noon I pushed off. The trail was gravel/broken chip seal. It reminded me of a logging road as I wound my way up along the Flat River, climbing into the piney woods. Luckily, there was shade. Nevertheless, I took my time and got to Lowell around 3:15, where I hit upon a Meijers for a deli sub to eat at the campground. I called the campground and left a message. I imagined it being full, a festival-like atmosphere, even a fireworks show since it was the Fourth, no room for a travelling cyclist with a tent. The campground was 7 miles outside of Lowell.

I’d been drinking all day, every few minutes, but had only peed about 3x. TMI. In Smyrna I bought 2 Gatorades and sorted the liquids into my bottles. I must have sweated it all out.

Soooo for the campground: the website had mentioned it was under new management. It is a work in progress and seen better days. I saw a sign in someone’s front yard. Hmmm. There was a driveway and a gravel path next to it that wound back behind the house, I followed it back into a thicket of woods by the Grand River. No cars, no RVs, no tents, no music, beer, and more importantly no potties or water sources. I see configurations of used patio furniture, rusted, moldy cushions, a picnic table missing its slats—just a shell of a table. There’s a RESERVED sign nailed to a tree. It is an abandoned campground, a ghost of its former self. Ruins.

I’m okay with staying. I need to stop pedaling and rest my backside and burning legs, but I needed water. I had Gatorade in bottles, but nothing else. I called again to say, I’m here! By the way, is there any water? Then went bathing in the river to cool things down. Afterwards, I moved an Adirondack Chair close to the bank and put my feet up, letting the breeze slowly dry me off.

Eventually, a lady comes in a truck with bottles of water, we chat and I offer her money and then she leaves me alone. No one else is coming.

Now I’m on my own and love it. I set up my tent, finish my sub and eat some more danishes, washing it down with cold water. I listen to the birds in the trees and the earth settle into a dewey dusk.