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Morning came, and except for a small part of the fly that the tarp didn’t cover, we were mostly dry. Damp, for sure, just from the 100% humidity, but nothing was sopping wet. Glad there were enough trees around to secure that tarp. While it wasn’t raining at the moment, the picnic table at the site was soaked, so we decided to head to the restrooms and then the ranger station to see what the weather was going to do and adjust our route if needed. The connections were very slow and we did get a “mostly cloudy, but no heavy rain” report.
While Dana was charging her phone at the ranger station, I went back and started breaking camp. A synopsis of the process: pack up the sleeping bags and pillows; deflate, fold and put the air mattresses into their bags; take off the tarp, shake it out and fold it; take off the fly, shake it out as much as possible; pull the stakes, collapse the tent and take off the poles and fold them; stuff the fly, poles and stakes into the dry bag and the tent goes in after that; fold up the ground tarp which we use as a footprint; bungee the tarps and tent and Dana’s sleeping bag to the rear racks and stow the rest of the items in our panniers.
Dana had come back and started hauling our bags out of the bear box and down to the restrooms where our bikes were parked. I finished packing up and then we hauled the rest of my stuff down, loaded up the bikes and headed for the picnic area where we had dinner last night.
As much as we had come to love the lore of the M22 that Pauly imbued in us, rain was still a threat and we wanted to get to Manistee as quickly as possible, so we opted for using driving directions and heading straight in on US 31. The check of the weather did tell us that we could start out around noon. Little threat of rain. That was indeed the case and US 31 was mostly good. A couple of hairy spots, but the worst thing again was a south headwind that made for a long day getting into Manistee.
On the outskirts of Manistee was a Meier grocery. We stopped to resupply and figure out the evening and where to stay. Dana wanted to camp. I wanted to motel. Radar showed a small band of rain coming our way within an hour or so, but the early morning’s forecast was for severe thunderstorms. Camping options were limited but Dana did locate a spot at a local marina/campground. I argued that it wasn’t likely to have the tree cover or places to rig a tarp over the tent, and one night of wet was enough for me. We were both mad at the other’s intransigence. It was week 3 and tempers do flare with so much together time. While our touring styles are similar and one reason why we are able to do these trips, we still have different preferences that need to be negotiated. This time, it was settled on a motel — the Manistee Econolodge. I made the reservations and we headed there forthwith.
The Econolodge was huge, to say the least. Long would be a better adjective. We turned the bikes into the parking lot at the first Econolodge sign. I then followed the many signs to the lobby, one of which was at the end of each addition that had been made to the motel — there were at least 3. I got us registered and fortunately our room was where I left my bike. We got our showers and headed into the downtown to explore the town and look for a place to eat.
Manistee is a cute little town, some parts of which look straight out of the 50s. Maybe even 40s. The main street is curved to follow the river and dotted with many shops and restaurants, many of which were closed this Sunday evening. Dana had wanted to try T.J.’s Pub as they advertised “outside seating with a river view,” but that was a real stretch of anyone’s imagination as it was a block away from the river and all you could see was the bridge over the river. It was on River Street. Maybe they were extrapolating.
So, instead of parking there, we walked around town and found the river walk down a long set of steps. Besides a pleasant walk along the water, we could see which restaurants and bars really had river view seating. One of them was a Mexican restaurant (unless we’re now calling them ‘Murican restaurants), but it was rather pricey and didn’t strike our fancies. We continued walking until Dana found her spot: Fricano’s Eatery & Gathering Pub. Their Sunday get-people-in-the-door strategy was to offer 1/2 price drinks. Wine, wine bottles, beer, etc. The menu looked good, too, and we ordered a bottle of Chard and craving fresh greens after many bagged “kits”, we both opted for salads. Our server, Lily, was a hoot. She was training and spent a lot of time leaving us to ask for answers to our questions.
The promised rain never happened and Dana was busting my chops about that. After dinner, we rode out to the end of the river where it meets Lake Michigan. It was dusk and the scene was enchanting. We made our way back to the motel — still nice to occasionally have a bed to sink into. Night all!
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