Day 7 – Manistique MI to Elkhart IN
Sun, Coins, and the Inevitable Soak; “Because not every day ends dry, and that’s just fine.“
Bright-eyed and ready after a solid night’s rest—no hurdles between me and the open road. The early start feels earned, not forced. Two coin stops on the radar today, each one inching me closer to the familiar comfort of home turf. The morning air greets me at a brisk 55F; after sweating through a string of scorched days, this is a welcome chill. Holiday Motel Manistique deserves a shoutout, truly—would recommend to anyone who finds themselves exploring these northern wilds. I make a point of keeping it neighborly: pushing the bike the hundred yards to the main road before firing up the engine. 6am and Harley thunder isn’t everyone’s preferred alarm clock.
Rolling out, the Bridge of Mackinac looms ahead, with its panoramic lake views and morning sunlight slowly nudging the world awake. Crossing the bridge is a five-minute treat—crate lane below, lake shimmering, and for those brief moments you’re part of the scenery.
Mackinaw City appears, crossing through, quiet as ever. No reason to linger, so I chase down the day’s first coin stop.
The “Tunnel of Trees” beckons; it’s one of the 50 rides 1 nation challenge, and the check-in photo feels like a ritual now. The Leg Inn tempts, but duty calls me south—big miles ahead.
Michigan’s upper reaches twist me this way and that, and after a pit stop for donut holes and truly life-affirming coffee, I make the call to skip Lake Huron’s shore. It’s a hard slap south to Detroit instead, hoping to dodge storms brewing in northern Indiana. Coffee makes all decisions easier.
Still, there’s a longing for a proper Brat and Brez’n in Frankenmuth—a little German haven on my route. But no dice. Nothing jumps out, nothing says “Servus!”
Disappointment hangs around like an uninvited guest. Maybe the devil’s pulling strings today.
Speaking of which, why not complain to the source?
Off to the Gates of Hell I go, one of the 15 for 25 challenge stops. Turns out Hell is real, and the Manager’s got ice cream on hand.
Hell ain’t a bad place to be, especially with a cone in hand. Still, something pushes me onward—the sky’s getting moodier, clouds stacking up ahead.
I point the nose towards Elkhart, the last push of the day. About thirty minutes from the finish line, the rain finally catches me. Nothing torrential, just enough to leave me damp. But fortune has a sense of humor—I roll into the hotel lot just as the heavens open up for a proper downpour. Message received.
So, what’s the lesson? If there’s ice cream in Hell, maybe there’s Mexican food in Heaven. I’ll take that deal.
As the evening settles in, I huddle with weather radar and forecasts, plotting tomorrow’s escape route between warring storm fronts. Looks like another early alarm is on the cards. Not much a person can do except crack a cold one and let the weather sort itself out.
Here’s to the days that start with promise and end in a rain shower, and arriving in one piece after a trip through Hell. 🙂
Roaming Cage Free 
Leave a comment