The ferry sailed at two, the lady on the phone said to be there an hour before and bring two tie-down straps. I have two, bought years ago on my first ever visit to IKEA. By the time that I had found them and filled up with gas the clock read 10 and the GPS said 3 hours.
No time to check the oil or fit the check valve. I rode like the wind, a rattling oil dripping wind, through lush green rolling hills spotted with farms and grain silos over sometimes abysmal concrete roads, their stepped joints shaking and tearing at mine and the Guzzi’s.
Three hours riding, during which the clattering carburettor slides appeared to get worse, I hope my diagnosis is correct, saw me arrive at the Manitowoc dock. Mountains of coal sat, fodder for my next ride, the Steam Ship (S.S.) Badger, a venerable old girl.
The ferry process is slick and simple, it’s still the off-season and the fare was just over $100 including a charge for ‘security’ which appeared to be a man with a ‘do not pet’ dog asking me if I had any firearms, I told him that I didn’t. There was no ticket, they just put my name on the list and that was that. We embarked with fellow motorcyclist Steve from Canada (he’d been down to Florida) and I lashed her to the grating using the straps that they provided, go figure.
A stout ship, capable of ice breaking, she has steel propellers not the more easily cast but brittle bronze, two passenger decks with lounges and cabins and sails at 2am and 2pm in the summer months. She thundered and shuddered beneath us not unlike the bike.
Four gentle hours between shores and time zones, I relaxed as land and cellphone coverage receded. The morning’s jarring journey turned my thoughts to suspension, mass-spring-damper, and I doodled happily trying to recall the engineering that I’d been taught but not learnt. I met Joe and his wife Mary who had plans to open an ‘Amazon Store’ and were interested in how ‘Brexit’ would impact them, I wondered whether they had considered the fall out from a trade war with their Chinese manufacturers but said nothing.
The lake was calm, thankfully, sometimes sailings are cancelled at short notice if it is stormy and 20′ waves are not unknown. Upon our arrival at Ludington there were delays, the wind had got up and was holding her away from the dock, she puffed and wheezed and shook with the effort. 45 minutes of churning the sandy harbour later she was engaged with the off ramp next to what looked to be a sister ship, the Spartan.
The delay and time zone change had robbed me of choice and I checked into a nearby Victorian hotel with stuffy host but airy quirky rooms. I cleaned up and went out to eat, chicken mac and cheese (no picture) and met a local broccoli farmer Josh and his partner Ann (I hope that I have that right) told me about the ‘cash only’ authentic bars, I checked them all out and we reconvened for last orders. A generous man interested in helping out his fellows and doing the right thing with his farm, not a fan of GM seed and a sparse user of pesticides he rued the day that America showed Mexico how to grow broccoli. I wished them well.
Le Mans man 