23 miles

Last night’s dinner brought me closer to nature than I ever could have imagined. I was sitting on a log next to my campfire, staring into the glowing screen of my phone—eyeing a map or sending a text or something. The pot of mashed potatoes I’d been eating out of was resting on the ground between my feet. 

At some point I became vaguely aware that an animal was nearby, and figured it was someone’s dog because my site was so close to the path, but a split second later, I felt soft fur brush my ankles and felt something tip over my pot. I leapt to my feet and flicked on my headlamp to see FOUR BIG RACCOONS staring back at me. I barked a few words at them and they just casually trundled off into the woods, completely unafraid, no doubt judging me for being so weird and stingy with my potatoes.

 Today, I lounged the morning away. I ate, relaxed, and did some reorganizing, taking my time to pack the bike. I hit the road around 2:30 pm. My plan was to ride to Rose Lake, which appeared to be a nature area nearby, about 10 miles away. My plan was to stealth camp there—Google Maps had identified it as “open 24 hours”, which is common for hiking trails and nature areas. 

Turns out Rose Lake is open 24 hours because it’s a hunting area. On my way there, I made the mistake of asking three DNR guys I ran into where I could safely camp for the night. They kindly confirmed: nowhere. I feel like I could have found a suitable spot if I’d tried to actually do the stealth part better. I just got so accustomed to people helping me when I was out west. In small towns across Montana, the answer had repeatedly been “whatever, camp on my lawn”. Not so, in Michigan. I set off for Pinckney, another 3 hours away. It was doable, I just really didn’t want to keep going, so along the way I kept an eye out for better stealth options. 

After a short time, I spotted a building that looked like a town hall. It had a sprawling lawn, big trees, and a porta potty. It was basically paradise. To my even greater surprise, as I turned into the parking lot, I saw several kitted out cyclists arriving at the same time for some kind of organized group ride. I couldn’t believe my luck. I chatted with some of them, and met the group leader named Ken, who told me they were meeting for a Tri-County Cycling Club event that happens every Tuesday and Thursday. He offered to let me stay in his travel trailer, but I declined. I was pleased to run into such a sympathetic and understanding group, but I didn’t really feel like interacting much, and was eager for the comfort and solitude of my tent. 

I did still need a place to stay for the night, and was fortunate to run into a woman who worked at the town hall, just as she was leaving for the day. I chatted with her for a bit, and she agreed to let me stay the night on the property. I told her about my experiences camping at community centers and visitors centers in small towns along the Northern Tier out west, and shared my wish that such touring-cyclist-friendly camping options might exist in a place like this. She gave me her card and asked me to email her, which I understand is often a polite brush off, but she said it in a way that felt convincingly sincere.

I set up my tent behind some trees next to a cell phone tower, and then sent myself into an anxious sleep thinking about whether it’s dangerous to hang around all night so close to one. 

The deer are screaming their terrifying screams again, but this time I at least know what it is, and I have less fear of being discovered here. I also heard a pack of coyotes cackling several times throughout the night.