from South Haven to Kalamazoo, Michigan and back
We left the South Haven trail head at about 10 am, after fiddling around a good ½ hour attaching Pierre’s new speedometer. Pierre is my brother. When I told him that I was planning to ride the Kal-Haven trail, he immediately said he’d go with me. He was so excited about doing this, he went out and purchased all kinds of gadgets for his bike, including speedometer, gel seat and mirror. The speedometer was the only one he could use today.
For the first 5 miles, or so, we kept changing lead positions with two ladies we had met in the parking lot. One of the ladies had a flat tire and no pump. I lent her my pump, but Pierre, being an older brother, scolded me for not offering to pump the tire for her. In my thinking, if she wanted help, she would have asked for help, not just to borrow the pump. It turns out that she didn’t know how to use the pump, so she did need the help.
By the time we got to the town of Lacota, at mile 7, it was obvious that Pierre was not going to make it all the way to Kalamazoo. One thing you must understand about Pierre. He prides himself in being faster, stronger and having more stamina than whoever is around to compete against. He’s never lost an arm wrestling match and would push himself to the limit to show-up anyone, even if it means being very sore for several days afterward. So it was with some delight that I observed him struggling to keep up and sweating buckets so early, while I was effortlessly riding without breaking a sweat. He conceded that he could not go all the way to Kalamazoo, that I should go on without him and he’ll meet me on my way back. So I took off on my own.
The Kal-Haven trail is a state park running from South Haven to Kalamazoo, along an abandoned railroad line. It passes thru or passes near nine small town, although if you’re like me, you’ll notice only three of them. They are that small. I remember seeing a sign on the trail marked Kibbie, around mile 4, but I don’t remember seeing the town. And if it wasn’t for the sign for an ice cream shop, I would not have known I had passed Grand Junction, at mile 10.
Because this is an old railroad bed, it makes for relatively easy biking. There are no steep grades, just gentle transitions from uphill to downhill, requiring very few gear changes – or so I thought. I experienced my first challenge around mile 13. There was an extended uphill section, that seemed to get steeper and steeper. This required me to make my first stop to drink water.
Once again, because this is an old railroad bed, there are no sudden changes in direction, no sudden lefts or rights, no u-turns, and it does not run along any street. But when I got to Bloomingdale, mile 16, I was distracted by the pavement markings as I was crossing 42nd St. You see, they’ve got nice little pavement markings in the shape of bicycles, leading to some county park. And before I knew it, I had gone 1/3 mile down 42nd St. – downhill. Now I had to climb 1/3 mile uphill to get back on the trail.
Shortly after I had left Bloomingdale, I received a call from Pierre. He was in Grand Junction. His refreshments had leaked out into his backpack, creating quite a mess. This was not his day. Except for my little misadventure in Bloomingdale, I was doing fine.
When I got to Gobles, mile 20, I decided to stop, rest & refuel. Before we left that morning, I bought a box of 8 cereal bars for energy throughout the trip. I ate the first one here. Gobles is the largest of the 9 small towns. M40, a relatively busy road compared to the others I had crossed, passes thru the town. I saw another cyclist almost get run over as he crossed this road. I did not bother exploring the town, as I had been there before. I have friends who have a lake house just north of town. One thing that stood out as I ate my cereal bar was the large sign for Kal-Haven Community Church, and the fact that everything said Kal-Haven and nothing said Gobles.
As I continued, I realized that I was running low on water. The trail map had shown 5 water locations between South Haven and Gobles. However, I had seen only 1, back at mile 4. It was an old fashioned hand operated pump used to pump the water directly from a well. The other 4 pumps had been removed. I kept going in hopes that the 3 locations between Gobles and Kalamazoo had pumps. I was in luck. The first location east of Gobles had a pump. This was the first time I would operate a pump like this. It took a couple tries to figure out how to hold my plastic water bottle in place, while pumping. Pierre had asked the lady, who was working at the trail head, if the water was safe to drink. Her response was “well I drink it.” I had no questions about the safety of the water and was more than happy to drink it. It was cold and refreshing.
Soon after, Pierre called from Bloomingdale. He had just eaten, and said he would hang out there until I returned. I encouraged him to go on the Gobles, because I still had more than 10 miles to go to get to Kalamazoo. Somewhere around mile 25, things got rough for me. It seemed like I was riding uphill all the time. I began to question why I was doing this. How important was it for me to go all the way to Kalamazoo? And if I get there, how am I going to ride all the way back to South Haven? But if I don’t go all the way, I’ll always remember that I didn’t. Many years ago, we went to a water park in Florida, and I chickened out at the top of the tallest water slide. I’ve never been back to a water park, and whenever I think of water parks, I remember chickening out. So I resolved to go all the way to Kalamazoo and back, even if it kills me. The last 4 miles to Kalamazoo were all uphill. I had to stop every few miles, but I was comforted knowing that for this portion the return trip would be all downhill.
I finally arrived in Kalamazoo, mile 33, about 10 minutes after 2. (The trail head is actually at mile 33.5, a little fact I learned when I got to mile 33, thinking I could now rest and had to go another ½ mile.) I was hoping to get a nice meal, relax and prepare for the return trip. But much to my disappointment, there was nothing there except an old railroad car, two outhouses, a water pump and a couple picnic tables. A couple cereal bars would have to do. The man who worked at the trail head, in the railroad car, was really nice. I engaged him in conversation to help pass the time, while I waited for my thighs to stop burning. After a 45 minute rest, I filled up my water bottle, used the outhouse and go ready to head back. Pierre called from Gobles. He too was ready to head back.
The first few miles were, as expected, downhill. This was great. I probably exceeded the posted 15 mph speed limit, but I took advantage of it, because I knew the rest of the way would not be easy. When I was about a mile from Gobles, Pierre called to say he was in Bloomingdale and would wait for me there. At this point I had already ridden more miles than he would at the end of the day. I must admit that I had done some preparation prior to this trip. Everyday for about a week, I had ridden my bike for at least ½ hour, hiked for ½ hour and weight trained. One day I even rode my stationary bike for 3 hours. All the training Pierre had done was one 5-minute ride around the block.
We hung out in Bloomingdale for about ½ hour and talked. This is the second largest of the 9 towns. It is a one intersection kind of town, with a small store on the corner. Pierre noted that while he was there, the only patrons to the store were cyclist from the trail. There was an older man circling the town on his bike handing out Watchtower tracts. I don’t know what happened to the one he gave us. Now that I think about it, it disappeared a couple minutes after he gave it to us.
Feeling rested, we set out on the last 16 miles of the day. Within 2 miles, fatigue hit me really hard. I told Pierre to go on without me. I had to stop frequently, and when I was moving, other cyclist passed me by as though I wasn’t. By the time I got to Grand Junction, my left knee was in pain. Now I was walking and pushing my bike. When the pain eased, I’d ride some more, then walk when the pain returned. Ride, walk & push, ride, walk & push, ride, walk & push,…for 10 miles. I didn’t get to South Haven ‘till around 8 pm.
On the drive home, the burning in my thighs had become painful, but it was worth it. To the avid cyclist, 67 miles is nothing, and he could do it in half the time. But to someone who spends most of his day staring at a computer monitor, this was a big deal, and the test of my will - great preparation for my upcoming backpacking trip.
