Hello Again Part II


About two miles out, I felt a drop of rain on my cheek. I looked up. Funny. In between the white fluffy clouds the sky was still blue. It probably amounted to nothing. No need to worry. I kept powering silently around the island. Another fat drop on my sunglasses. Was that a rumble of thunder? Naw, the clouds looked innocent enough and I still saw blue.
Mackinac Island is a little over eight miles in circumference and I had pedaled three. Another drop on my arm. I enjoyed the cliffs and the whitecaps on the water. I thought the rain will pass. I am a Northwest girl and have rain in my veins and this certainly is not enough to deter me. My good mood and determination remained. I was not even close to turning around and pedaling the shortest distance back to town. Not me, no sir. Another mile. Another rumble. More rain. Really? It pelted sideways off the north waters of the island now, and I wished for automatic sunglasses wipers. My back pack sat in the big basket slung between the two handlebars and was dry no more.
I saw a rustic road sign off to the left. Scott Shore Road it announced.  Maybe I could cut across the island and eliminate some travel time while at the same time get shelter from the trees over the road. I made a snap decision and veered off to the left. Brilliant, I thought, and I left the water and well-traveled pavement behind.
It turns out that this was not a brilliant idea.
Immediately the road exhibited signs of a washout from previous rains. My tires could not purchase traction on the sandy gravel. The road became more of a steeply inclined path to the point that I had to get off and push the bike uphill. No problem, I thought, undeterred. This path will improve. I made the decision and I am sticking with it, good or bad. The road widened at the top of the hill and I hopped back on my bike. This is more like it. As I began to round a corner in the woods I noticed that the road was becoming muddier. Pedaling onward it became rapidly apparent that the road had turned into a miniature muddy brown lake and I had no recourse but to grit my teeth, hang on, and pedal straight through. It felt much like driving on black ice in Michigan in January.