After sending out the last update from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, I continued north a little ways to Green Bay. I headed out onto the Green Bay Peninsula. This 65-mile arm of land is what forms Green Bay (the body of water) with Green Bay (the city) nestled at its crook.

The Peninsula is a very pretty place. There is abundant coastline, with Green Bay on the northwest and open Lake Michigan on the southeast. There are a lot of quaint little towns in the bays along the length of the peninsula. And out near the end of it is a park called Peninsula State Park.

It's a large park, with numerous bike and hiking trails and abundant access to the water. I went for a great ride exploring the many little towns along the coastline. It was a Sunday, so many people were returning from their weekend with the usual frenzy to get back. I avoided them like the plague.

The next day I headed north into Michigan. I entered the state in Iron Mountain, whose claim to fame is a large iron mine in the mountain that bears the town's name. I passed through and headed into the Upper Peninsula (the UP, as it is known) of Michigan.

This is very scenic country, with hills covered in hardwoods and pines. Lots of wildlife lives here. I saw a number of deer along the highway, and had to do some fairly abrupt braking to avoid having an encounter with some of them.

I ended up at Van Riper State Park, a little east of Marquette, Michigan. This is the heart of moose country. I'd seen a few off in the distance in marshes at the edges of the lakes I drove past. The ranger at the park made a concerted effort to make sure I understood not to approach these wild beasts. Not a problem, since I know their sheer size would enable them to cause bodily harm if you were near them when they sneezed. Apparently this time of year the moose are very cranky. I can relate to that. Sometimes these things just happen.

I went for a great ride up to the northernmost point of Michigan at Eagle Harbor. This is on Lake Superior, the largest of the Great Lakes. The original residents of area called it Gitche Gumee - you might remember that from the Gordon Lightfoot song "The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald". A stiff breeze was coming directly from the north, whipping up respectable surf. Nothing a human could surf on, but perhaps a small cat could rip a few good runs.

Remember I mentioned that the weather had cooled? And I jokingly talked about the bone-chilling temperatures in the low 50's? It's no longer a joke. This far north and with the cool system in place, the overnight temperature in Van Riper State Park was an icicle-inducing 42 degrees! This is in mid-August!

The next morning I stopped for gas and noticed something odd. The service station had a lane clearly marked as "For Snowmobiles Only". Jeez, you can tell what happens a lot up here in the UP. A lot of snow!

During the morning I drove through Marquette and then across the length of the Upper Peninsula. Its amazing how much the terrain resembles the Pacific Northwest. Of course there aren't any mountains, but otherwise it is very reminiscent of Western Washington and Oregon. A true Northwesterner would feel quite at home here, if they could only do something about toning down the harsh winters.

I made my way to St. Ignace, which serves as the northern entrance to the Mackinac Bridge that crosses the Straits of Mackinac, which separate Lake Michigan and Lake Huron. The view from the bridge is spectacular, and I got to appreciate it more than normal due to construction slowdowns.

At the other side of the bridge is the town of Mackinaw and I turned east onto highway 23 that leads to Cheboygen State Park, my destination for the day. The park is located smack dab on Lake Huron. I found a great site looking out onto the lake and settled in.

I hopped on the bike in search of an answer to another of life's mysteries. For the last two days I had seen restaurants and stores advertising a food item new to me. At first I thought it was a misspelling, but that many places couldn't be so bad at spelling. The ads were for "Pasties". This demanded a search for the truth.

It turns out these are a specialty food originating in the Upper Peninsula. They are a baked pocket kind of thing stuffed with meat, veggies, or cheese. They even have dessert pasties, filled with fudge or whatever. They are very similar to a calzone. I tried a chicken pastie. It was not bad, though kind of a gut bomb.

I went for a great ride after the pastie experience. I headed into Mackinaw, where I stopped for a look at Colonial Michilimackinac. I think that if you can pronounce it correctly that you should be declared an honorary local citizen. It was a walled community built by the French back in 1715 and reconstructed in minute detail. It was pretty interesting to see what life was like back in those days.

I then set out westward on Highway 119, a route that took me down the western coastline of northern Michigan. It is a great road, narrow and twisty. At times the road is densely shrouded in trees, so you get the feeling you are riding through a green tunnel. Other times the vegetation opens up and on your right are stunning views of Lake Michigan. There were a few viewpoints set on bluffs overlooking the lake. To the left and right you can look at incredible lakeside homes that cannot be seen from the road.

The road lead to Harbor Springs, a resort town nestled in a wide bay of the lake. I took a break and found a little shop run by a delightfully chatty couple who served me up the best peach pie and coffee I've had in a while. Well, the coffee was weak compared to my Witch's Brew, but darned good. The pie was hot from the oven and simply superb.

I continued my loop route winding through the county roads in upper Michigan. I rode around the southern tip of Burt Lake, a really pretty green-water lake. I continued east and eventually arrived at Lake Huron in Rogers City. Then I turned north and rode along the lake, with a number of wonderful places to stop for breaks. You can see a regular stream of freighters plying the waters of the lake.

The evening was a little more mild than back in the UP. It was still in the high 50's after a gorgeous sunset. I spent the evening chatting with some neighbors from Ann Arbor. They were relentless in wanting to hear about my visit to the Sturgis Rally. I retired eventually and caught the last bit of an extra inning victory for the Mariners over the Red Sox. Go Mariners! One fact the announcers pointed out was that the M's have not lost a single series on the road this year. This is a phenomenal record!

The next morning I de-camped and headed south along highway 23, which hugs the eastern coast of Michigan on the Lake Huron shoreline. This is a truly beautiful drive. It leads through the city of Alpena, and through many other small resort towns with tourist traps and attractions, as well as a lot of nice looking vacation homes.

Eventually I worked my way down around Saginaw Bay to Bay City State Park. This is a huge park and is very popular. On a weekday it was quite crowded. I went for a walk in one of its prime attractions, a trail that leads through a large marsh with abundant birds of all types.

I went for a nice afternoon ride. The weather was still cool (in my opinion) but it was sunny and not windy. I rode down into Saginaw, poked around a little, then took off for a ride up the peninsula formed by Saginaw Bay. Real nice area. I did a little loop route that took me through the town of Bad Axe. I never did find out where the name came from.

In the middle of the morning I woke up to torrential rain and wind. The Weather Channel had gotten this one wrong. By daylight, they changed their story and predicted rain all day, with possible violent storms in the afternoon across southern Michigan.

I opted to make this a travel day. Now, I am going to make my best attempt not to whine. After all, I am on a wonderful and long vacation, the trip of a lifetime. But I will say that driving through driving rain in the areas I traveled that day was no walk in the park.

My goal for the day was to get through Ohio, Pennsylvania, and into western New York. This is not a terribly long trip. My route took me south near Detroit, then through Toledo. As I have seen most everywhere I have traveled, people simply do not understand that when it is raining, one must drive a little slower and allow more space between cars. I had a number of hair-raising experiences, and I do not have enough hair to survive too many of these.

I made it past Toledo by sheer force of will, then headed east on the Ohio Turnpike. Now here is another of Life's Mysteries. To drive on this road one must pay for that privilege, since it is a toll road. In return for the money paid, you get to ride on a terribly rough road and endure many miles of extensive construction delays. Something is wrong with this picture...

I persevered despite the high percentage of Morons driving alongside me, and made it into eastern Ohio, which starts looking much nicer, with wooded hills and dales. Shortly after I entered Pennsylvania and drove through the city of Erie. I continued east and entered New York State.

I stopped my day's journey at Lake Erie State Park, smack dab on the shores of the lake of the same name. This is another really nice park. Since it was mid-week, I managed to get a site that was near the water, and I had a nice view of it through a gap in a stand of trees. It was very windy, and the lake had a respectable surf up. Respectable for a Great Lake, that is.

The rain continued off and on through the night, which gave me a chance to watch the Mariners play the Boston Red Sox. Though it was a losing effort, the M's still kept their record of not losing a single series on the road intact. Amazing.

The next morning I decided to stay here for a couple days, since the weather cleared and the area is so nice. I took a long ride out into the western New York countryside. I passed through Jamestown, which is at the southern tip of Lake Chautauqua. Jamestown's claim to fame is being the birthplace of Lucy Arnez, otherwise known as Lucille Ball. Riiiiiiiicky!

The day was quite windy, and clouds came and went, but no rain fell onto me. I call that a good day! I wound up back at the park a little before sunset and spent a relaxing evening watching the Friday Night Campsite Show. This consists of observing the antics of the incoming weekend campers and their various adventures setting up their campsites. It can get quite amusing, especially when you watch the rank amateurs. I feel entitled to watch them with some glee, since I have made so many of the same silly mistakes myself.

A representative example would be the ones I watched that night a couple campsites away. These otherwise intelligent-looking folks took an extraordinary amount of time getting their dome tent properly set up, with one of them apparently reading the printed instructions (a usually fatal mistake). Their efforts were compounded by the gusty winds that were pelting the park.

Feeling enormously proud that their hour-long battle had finally been successful, they then switched their attentions to lighting a campfire. The steady winds would have made this a challenge even for a seasoned camper. These folks reverted to the standard technique used by rookies - charcoal lighter fluid. This is a method fraught with great potential peril. These folks tempted fate by getting a few weak flames going, then squirted on a whole bunch more, going for quantity over quality. Of course this and the stiff wind caused a really big flare-up that lit the entire campground. Fortunately no one was singed, and they finally succeeded in getting a fire going, albeit a very smoky one.

The wind immediately blew the smoke directly into their tent. So much smoke that you could see it coming out of the vent holes! A couple of them struggled to damper the fire while the others managed to partially dismantle the tent while trying to move it out of harm's way. Then the wind tore it from their grasp and it went rolling and tumbling in the wind across the large grassy area in the middle of the park, with four of them in chase. Needless to say, these folks did not get settled in until pretty late.

The next morning I hopped on the bike and went north to see Niagara Falls. I headed up Highway 5, and stuck to the back roads up into the city of Buffalo. The state road I was on took me winding through the city, so I got to see a good bit of it. It's actually a very nice area, with lots of wonderful old houses and buildings.

I should say this is a very nice area in August. In the winter, Buffalo is a snow city. They get this thing called the "lake effect snow". The cold wind coming down from Canada roars across the relatively warm lake, producing prodigious amounts of snow. Not my cup of tea.

I hopped onto the bridge over the Niagara River onto Grand Island, then over another bridge leading into the city of Niagara Falls. The road to the actual falls follows the Niagara River. In the last little stretch as you enter the park the river starts dropping and rapids form very quickly. The river drops 50 feet in the last quarter mile before the falls, so there are some gnarly looking rapids along the way. I can just imagine what you would be feeling if you were in one of those barrels that a few incredibly adventurous (crazy?) folks have gone over the falls in.

Parking was difficult. The State Park lots were already full at 10:00 in the morning. So I wandered around and found a public lot that actually had some advantages. The guy taking the money had that "biker" look, and sure enough he pointed to his Harley that was parked behind the small building at the entrance to the parking lot. He told me to park mine next to his, and to put my helmet and leathers inside the building. He told me he would guard the bike as if it were his own, and I believed him implicitly. But I still locked it securely, chaining it to a post. The guy looked like I hurt his feelings, but that is just the way life is.

A nice walk through the State Park lead towards the falls. As I walked across the wide expanse of the State Park grounds, the thunder of the falls grew slowly in volume, a deep rumbling noise. I felt some rain drops and looked up questioningly at a mostly cloudless sky. Then I realized that the mist of the falls went up so high that some of it was falling back down to the ground.

At the observation point for the American Falls you are just 15 feet from the north edge of the falls. It is a really amazing viewpoint. The thunder of the falling water is truly impressive. However, the viewpoint does not lend itself to good photos, but I did my best.

The good spots for taking great photos are mostly manmade. An observation deck juts out far enough to get good shots. But the queue to get into it was about 200 yards long. There are boats that ply the waters below, but the signs said there was about a 2-hour wait.

I walked through the park across the Niagara River to the viewpoint for Horseshoe Falls. When I got there, there was a wedding taking place on a small bluff overlooking the spectacular falls. I got there just before it started. It looked like the wedding party consisted of the minister, the bride and groom, and one other person videotaping the event. As the ceremony progressed, it attracted quite a crowd. At the end of the ceremony, the large crowd of perfect strangers applauded as if they'd known the happy couple all their lives. Quite the scene!

Horseshoe Falls proved to be difficult to photograph for different reasons. The huge volume of water falling over the precipice was sending up a massive cloud into the air. The mist effectively shielded the parts you most wanted to photograph. It was also falling back down in a heavy drizzle, getting my camera and me pretty damp.

It looked like perhaps the best overall viewpoints for the falls would be from the Canadian side. However, I had seen that the traffic was backed up for a long ways going in and out over the Peace Bridge. Then I realized that it was Saturday. This explains the long queues for everything. Being on a long road trip sometimes makes me lose track of what day it is...

I'd seen what I wanted to catch at Niagara Falls, so I headed back to reclaim my bike. As I walked into the parking lot, I saw a bunch of Harleys and their owners in the area I had parked my bike. As I got my gear and rigged up for the ride, I chatted with the bikers. Turns out they are all Buffalo natives. As such they take advantage of every single moment of riding weather, since it lasts only about 5 months of the year.

They offered to take me on a nice route they were going on up to the north shore. It sounded good to me. But first they had to run back to Buffalo to catch lunch with some other friends. So the eight of us roared off down the highway.

We went into a neighborhood called Elmwood. This is a two lane street that runs north-south in the northern part of Buffalo. There are a number of shops and restaurants along it, with a vibrant street life going on. It reminds me a lot of Broadway in Capitol Hill in Seattle.

At a gas stop on the Avenue, one of them was having a minor mechanical problem, so when I spotted a Kinko's Copy Center across the street, I told them I was going to stop for a quick email check.

I spent a good 10 minutes answering emails, when I noticed all the good citizens in the store seemed to be staring at me oddly. I'm sort of used to this, but something seemed amiss. Turns out the other 7 bikers had come into the store and were standing behind me waiting for me to finish up. I guess the sight of all the leather-clad bikers was a bit much for the crowd in the copy center! I logged off and we roared off.

To my everlasting delight, the place we ate lunch was a typical New York Pizzaria. Understand clearly that the only REAL pizza is found in New York. Since I am originally from New York I can vouch for this. And the place we went to was not the kind of place that catered to tourists, where they serve pizza with every manner of topping on earth. No, at this authentic New York Pizzaria you had two choices: cheese, or cheeze with pepperoni. There are no other options. It was a great lunch.

As we were standing on the sidewalk around our bikes looking at the crowds of folks moving by, we heard a strange noise. Looking down the Elmwood Avenue, we saw a motorcycle gang approaching. Not your ordinary gang. It was a group of about 50 people on Vespas, those little Italian motor scooters. They whizzed up the Avenue in full parade, many wearing costumes. Our group laughingly applauded the appearance of these folks, and they all waved back happily, pleased to be part of the motorcycle family, even though they all knew they just barely qualified.

We then took off and headed for the north shore. They lead the way on a whole bunch of state and county roads that I could not keep track of. It was a really great route, though. And we eventually ended up at Roosevelt Beach on the shore of Lake Ontario. What a beautiful area!

We then continued eastward on Highway 18, going through a lot of picturesque small seaside towns and pretty much hugging the last of the Great Lakes. We ended up at Manitou Beach, where we stopped in a place where my friends were well known that served us up some coffee and pie. My new friends were headed farther east through Rochester, but I had a ways to go to get back to the camper, so I bid them farewell and hopped on the bike.

I managed to follow their advice for a really nice route back. It took me through Rochester and south to Geneseo. Then the best part of the ride was along Highway 20, which wound through the hills and dales east of Buffalo. I then headed south back to the State Park, arriving an hour before a spectacular sunset over Lake Erie. And just in time to catch the tail end of an exciting Mariner's win over the Yankees! All in all, it had been a memorable day.

The next morning I de-camped early on. I had now run out of Great Lakes, having seen all five of them. Overall, I can strongly recommend the Great Lakes area as a fantastic vacation area if you ever happen to be in this neck of the woods. A truly nice area!

I decided to turn inland and head for the Finger Lakes area. Before I left the Buffalo area, I had a couple rolls of film developed and received very disappointing news. One of the rolls of film had a major problem! All the pictures came out totally out of focus. This camera is one of those point and shoot ones, which I've had for almost 10 years. It has always worked flawlessly. It is supposed to be idiot-proof, but perhaps they did not take into account its dirt bag operator. Unfortunately, most of that roll was pictures of Sturgis! Bummer! Well, the pictures that made it will be posted within a few days.