Loop the lake
MIDWEST | The 1,000 miles around Lake Michigan seem made for biking
My heart started racing as soon as I saw her and those dark, defensive eyes. I sensed immediately there would be a connection.
Run-ins like this aren't all that uncommon in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Girls like her . . . they're hungry. They might go weeks -- maybe months -- without someone passing through, much less a male as vulnerable as me.
She was clearly sizing me up. The dance had begun.
With sweaty palms, I shifted gears on my touring bicycle and began pedaling furiously away from the farmhouse, the German Shepherd in hot pursuit.
As I reached the edge of the farm's front yard, she abruptly stopped chase. She stood at the boundary line, barking wildly, in near perfect synch with my heart arrhythmia. My escape -- successful; my clinical-strength antiperspirant -- ineffective.
Such is the fairly common fate for those who cycle in the rural Midwest. But despite occasional heart-pumping chase scenarios, along with unpredictable headwinds that could knock over a school bus, there are few areas better suited for bicycle touring than the nearly 1,000 miles of mostly level terrain that loops around the perimeter of Lake Michigan.
Undisturbed wildlife, pristine natural wonderlands, idyllic towns and villages, and two world-class cities all enjoy space along this lengthy stretch of coastline. And with the price of gas threatening to hit $5 a gallon this summer, this network of (mostly) lightly traveled roads and dedicated bike trails has never been more inviting.
You need two things to cycle around Lake Michigan. A large chunk of time and a comfortable bike seat.
If you lack the first -- about three weeks for total circumnavigation, depending on your fitness level -- consider breaking up your tour into smaller segments, as I did. And if you lack the second, think about driving instead. (Either that, or pack a decent diaper rash cream. I'm partial to Balmex.)
I began my loop as part of a longer trip, a late 2005 solo, cross-country tour that eventually wound through Wisconsin and into Michigan's Upper Peninsula, or U.P. I'd spent the previous 15 years guiding cyclists through Europe and wanted to finally spend time discovering the United States. The following year I pedaled much of western Michigan from Ludington, Mich., to Chicago and logged some miles on the Wisconsin side as well, biking the roughly 100-mile stretch from Chicago to Milwaukee. Last month, I finished my two-wheeled odyssey, cycling the last remaining legs between Traverse City, Mich., and Ludington and the segment from the U.P. border down to Milwaukee.
Michigan's U.P. is by far the quietest area along Lake Michigan's coast. It seems made for open road cycling. Comforting stretches of warm hues greeted me throughout my late-August ride, with a stiff west-to-east wind that helped propel me nearly effortlessly along a deserted U.S. Highway 2.
The largest town along my U.P. route was Escanaba, population less than 15,000. I didn't need a map to navigate its handful of browse-worthy shops -- nor did I need encouragement to take full advantage of the all-you-can-eat Chinese food buffet I discovered later that night. (Five plates!)
At times, I felt like I had the entire region to myself, stopping in towns with ample tourist facilities yet never battling crowds. This might be due in part to an economic downturn, which I was often reminded of by the ubiquitous FOR SALE signs. But it's also true that the U.P. is a fairly well kept secret, an undiscovered playground of outdoor adventure.
The U.P. locals exude a friendliness that follows you as you ferry from St. Ignace to the car-free, lost-in-time Victorian village of Mackinac Island, before heading (via ferry again) to Mackinaw City in northern Michigan. Residents enthusiastically steered me to the best beef jerky stands, the most popular pancake restaurants and the tastiest local pie varieties -- sustenance that made it easy for me to maintain my fast food-lover's physique. Cycle touring definitely burns calories, but I more than compensated for my metabolism spike with an eating prowess that started to make me self-conscious.
"My friends will love this," I lied to the cashier at Yummie's Ice Cream Shop in Harbor Springs, Mich. I was too embarrassed to admit that my bagful of $20 treats was an evening snack for one.
Some of Lake Michigan's most impressive scenery is concentrated along Michigan's west coast. While you'll find more tourists here compared to the relative solitude of the U.P., the coastal towns have more than enough facilities to accommodate the numbers. Hiking, mountain biking, river rafting, sailing -- the list of outdoor activities is seemingly endless. Cyclists roll by forests, parks, dunes, beaches, rivers, inland lakes, and of course, a Great Lake.
Starting in Northern Michigan and traveling south (and west, on occasion), my favorite cities and towns include Harbor Springs (its nearby Boyne Highlands golf course is a great challenge and relative bargain), Traverse City (I'm a sucker for miniature golf, the locals' sport-of-choice), and Holland (its state park is a great place to watch the sun set, and downtown is full of shops and restaurants). A Michigan cherry-flavored hot chocolate I savored somewhere near the town of Onekama nearly made me weep with cocoa-loving joy.
The hills -- and winds -- made my cycling in northwestern Michigan some of the most challenging of my trip, though these obstacles paled in comparison to a kidney stone attack that gripped me just outside of Petoskey, Mich. Medical attention was first-rate, but I ended up spending more than a week out of the saddle while I waited to pass the stones.
My ride from Chicago to Milwaukee was easily one of the bike-friendliest of the trip.
Beginning from Chicago's lakefront path, an 18-mile stretch that ranks as one of my favorites of the entire 1,000-mile circuit, I traveled on mostly dedicated bike paths for the unofficial century ride. Chicagoans looking for a weekend adventure can tackle the 100-mile journey in a day if you're fit and the weather cooperates. Amtrak can take you and your bike back to your starting point (or at least to Union Station) if you'd rather not pedal home.
I pieced together one of the last legs of my trip from the Wisconsin-U.P. border heading south. A late-night cheeseburger washed down by a triple-thick milkshake at the 1940s Mickey-Lu-Bar BQ in Marinette, Wis., did me right. So did a slew of unpretentious, yet noteworthy food stops, including sausages (Konops) and cheese (Krohn's) in Stangleville. No bike trip that passes through Green Bay would be complete without refueling at Titletown Brewing Company. Even the most die-hard Bears fans have to admit they grill a tasty burger.
The locals here were equally as eager as their cross-the-lake neighbors to show off their home turf. I got a guided bike tour from Larry Corrado, who sits on the board of the Friends of Mariners Trail, nearly six miles of immaculate pathway that connects Two Rivers and Manitowoc, a couple of welcoming cities along a 20-mile stretch of Lake Michigan coastline. The lightly trafficked county roads I encountered while heading south meant miles of peaceful, undisturbed cycling -- the perfect opportunity to log 60-80 miles a day.
If you're not shy about asking strangers for assistance, in decent physical condition, and modestly proficient reading maps, cycling around Lake Michigan is a realistic goal.
I was never more than an hour or two from well-stocked stores and tourist facilities. And the Adventure Cycling and Shoreline maps (see below) helped me plot my daily rides and where to stop over night.
Lodging choices ranged from a generous assortment of no-frills motels (ear plugs came in handy) and cozy lakefront cottages and inns (Michigan's Sauble Resorts in Ludington and Bayshore Resorts in Traverse City set the bar high for personal service) to the most contemporary digs (the City Flats Hotel in Holland, Mich., rivals most downtown Chicago properties).
Cycling solo certainly comes with challenges, but in the end, my kidney stones (four) outnumbered my flat tires (one). And the only thing lost was about 14 pounds.
Jerry Soverinsky is a Chicago-based free-lance writer.















