Spring trip to the luxury compound

I made my first trip of the season to our cabin in northern Michigan this past weekend.  Normally, I like to head up Friday night, even if it’s late, so that I can enjoy waking up to the sounds of birds, squirrels and even the occasional woodpecker jackhammering the gutter outside my window.  This weekend, there were two problems with that prospective itinerary.  First, the weather was absolutely awful on Friday, with cold, 30 degree temperatures and steady rain.  Second, I had an appointment in Lake Orion on Saturday morning, which meant that I would leave from there at about 11 am.  While I prefer to start my road trips earlier in the day, it turns out that rolling later wasn’t all bad.  Mostly because it was clear, but really cold, especially in the morning.  It was worth the wait for some of the previous night’s refreeze to thaw out.

Heated gear may be the best investment a rider in colder climates can make.  It makes weather that would be unbearable for a road trip not just acceptable, but generally quite comfortable.  While I use the jacket liner and gloves regularly, I’m really not a fan of using the pants and socks.  It’s not just laziness, although, I’m sure that’s a factor.  It’s because (listen up, Gerbings!) the pants, socks, and gloves are all on the same control.  In order to keep my hands warm enough, my feet roast.  This is my one complaint with the otherwise fantastic gear.

So, I left Lake Orion wearing the jacket liner under my leathers, and the gloves.  After about an hour, I stopped to put on a second pair of socks, still unwilling to put on the heated foot roasters.  This, thankfully, solved my problem and I was spared the roadside strip down, re-layer, and reassemble dance.  My route avoided all expressways and interstates, and passed through a remarkable number of “O” towns.  Orion, Oxford, Ortonville, Otisville, and after finally passing through Omer, I had only about a 45 minute push to arrive at my luxurious Northern Michigan compound.  Ok, well, not exactly a compound.  An estate, perhaps.  Ok, not really an estate, either.  Alright, it’s like 700 square feet on a crawl with no insulation, but it’s got a nice little view and a bitchin’ 2.5 car garage that’s extra deep, so there’s no shortage of space to roll in with a few bikes.

While nothing concludes a long cold ride like a couple frosty mugs of adult beverages, there are actually no bars in the cultural mecca of Hale, the nearest town to the cabin.  I would take a wild stab that the reason for this is two-fold.  One, the religious influence is, well, rather intense.  They play the Christian music station (or one of them, at least), in the township offices.  Yeah, really.  Two, which is much more of a reason, I think, is the Hale Eagles.  The Eagles, for the uninitiated, is a charitable fraternal organization that raises significant dough for a number of charities.  They also, conveniently, have private lodges that have (you guessed it!) bars that serve really, really cheap alcohol to members.  Mixed drinks are poured with a heavy hand, and pint drafts are a buck.  Dues are a princely $35 annually, but you have to pay an extra dollar if you want a key card so you don’t have to wait to be buzzed in.  I am, of course, a member, so with the bike safely parked in previously mentioned garage, we rolled up to meet up with some friends and make sure the taps were still flowing.

And flow they did.  After a couple pops, we decided to spread the love and went down the road to a local eatery for some dinner and *gasp* another beer.  And this brings me to something I just don’t get about some of these little towns.  When you’re in a recreational-focused area, there are a few things that, as a business owner, you should probably consider.  First and foremost, I don’t *have* to spend a single dime in your establishment.  These are all “want” dollars, not “need” dollars.  You should, at the absolute very least, be nice to your customers, or they will cease being your customers.  Furthermore, you should really be open at times that make sense for people who come into your town with said “want” dollars to spend.  If you own, say, a hardware store, grocery store, cafe, gift shop, etc., you should probably be open on Sunday.  I’m just sayin’.  Maybe the local octogenarian crowd that couldn’t afford to get the hell out of this brutally depressing winter have spent so much money in your establishment that you need Sundays off to count your money and praise Jesus for the baller lifestyle you’re gonna be livin’, but I don’t think so.  What I think is you’re obstinate.  I get it you need a day off.  How about Tuesday?  Tuesday seems like a fine day to take off.

When I got up and made my way to the window on Sunday, the temperture read a whopping 28 degrees.  I decided that a stroll around the estate in my pajama pants was appropriate, so that I could really take in morning.  It was clear and crisp, the air fresh and clean. I wandered around for a bit and plotted some projects for later…trees to be cut, repairs to be made.  For now, it was just too early to fire up the power equipment.  I headed back in the cabin, fired up a pipe and drank some coffee, eagerly awaiting that bright sun to warm things up for a Sunday ride.

By late morning, the temps were steadily rising, and I made my way out to the bike.  Through the twists and turns and state highways, I meandered over to Iargo Springs, one of the my favorite places in the area.  The viewing platform is 300 feet above the AuSable River in Oscoda Township (another “O” town!).  Visitors can make the 294-step trek down to see the springs and go to the river’s edge.  While I’ve done that a few times, the trip back up 294 steps didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun this time. I just took it in from the platform, watching the sun shine down on the river below, wondering how long the remaining ice was going to last.

Back in the saddle, I made my way to the cabin to gear up for the 180 mile trip back home. Giddyup.