[Story and photos submitted by Jonathan Ball. His ride was coincidentally right near our boonies trailer, and where I've ridden a few times.]
This past spring, after having pursued most of the back-woods tracks in the Big Rapids area I turned my attention further afield, to the ghost town of Marlborough, south of present-day Baldwin, in Lake County, apparently one of the poorest in the whole country (and with a pretty poor local reputation to be sure). Between Big Rapids (where I live) and Baldwin lies a vast tract of State and National Forests and lots of obscure dirt roads. Finding a Northwest Passage to Marlborough became the next goal. During the summer, over the course of three or four rides, I pushed further and further to the Northwest, deeper into the scrub pines. I thought Labor Day week-end I would finally achieve the goal and bring back photos of the pre-WWI ruins of the ghost-town.
Given there was a bit of distance involved and varying road surfaces I was happy when an old Trek mountain bike fell into my hands a few weeks before. Big and tough as it is, it weighs a ton and I just can’t get a road-bike position on it without a lot of extra work. Plus, it weighs a ton. Did I mention that? So I put drop-bars on it. Slapped on a wide rear wheel and the “2 inch” slicks (real size, 47c, 5c smaller than claimed – booo!) a rack and front bag and I was ready for quite a bit.
Off I went Sunday morning under slowly clearing skies and that coolness in the air that lets you know Fall is around the corner. I drove up to Hawkins and parked at a county park. Fitting the front bag to the bike I found I had left an important strap (that kept the bag off the front tire). Leave bag? No…find big rubber band! Not the best solution. Hey, Halloween lanyard! Good enough; and off I went with about a liter of water in bottle and back-ups.
The road got sandier as I headed in to the National forest and the fields made way for scrubby pines. One deceptively fast grade had my heart in my mouth as big stretches of really soft sand flew toward me but I kept it upright.
North on Queen’s Highway (next to King’s Highway – I’d like to know the history of these long north-south dirt roads that run the length of the county) then west again and a long flat section leading to a forest service lookout. Going by the Authorized Personnel sign (who, me? What sign? I’m just looking for some water) I reached the end of the road at the base of a steep uphill, but no tower. Explore a bit, go back down the hill, ask some folks (the only people I’ve seen in the past hour or so) and they say the tower has been gone for years. Go back up that slope, then left at the power lines for an overlook. Great! I go back.
Crawling back up the hill in 1st gear the cranks go slack and I look down to see – broken chain! Never had one of those before, ever. Fortunately I had thought how bad it would be to get stranded out here without a chain, so I brought the right tool. A short time later, back in business.
I made it to the powerlines and pushed the bike along the soft-sand two-track, to the edge of what the map showed to be a hill but seemed more like a high plateau above a wide river valley. Nothing but trees (and power lines) stretched out before me all the way to hills that must have been 8-10 miles away. I picked out a busy road with my binoculars that may have been US 31 heading to Baldwin, which was underneath the canopy somewhere to the north a couple of miles, within striking distance… but…
I walked down the steep sand dune hill and took a well-groomed two-track (seems an oxymoron but really, the grass was trimmed on the side of the trail) a ways, now seeking the Middle Branch of the Pere Marquette river, my new substitute goal. That ended in failure due to the trails all becoming private roads, big signs, fences, and a good chance of someone actually being there on this holiday week-end. So I turned back, grinding back up the side of the plateau, feeling a bruise under my left knee.
Getting back to the east-west road I had traveled earlier a switched to no-shirted freedom as the day was finally heating up and the sun was out; replenished my waterbottle from the back-ups as well. I was flying along pretty well for the oft-soft conditions having let some air out of my tires. A few more cars were roaming the woods now and I encountered 3 in the next 20 minutes or so. After a while the mysterious bruise under my knee began to ach, and by the time I was climbing out of the scrub-pines it had gotten worse, now an active pain. A few more miles of this and it became the primary focus of my attention, soft-peddling on the left. I was pretty unhappy with the situation because other than the knee I felt great.
The minutes ticked by as my pace grew slower and the soft, deep gravel of the last three or four miles and having to wallow in it as cars passed really dampened my spirits. Four hours after I started I finally coasted down the last hill to my car. So distracted was I by my knee pain I managed to remount my bike rack upside down on the back of the car and secure all six straps before I realized it. I was glad to be driving the 12 miles home to Big Rapids. Seeing fields and farmhouses after four hours of trees and sandy tracks and hardscrabble homesteads made me feel like I was back in civilization, and hurray for that. I’ll be back though. With bigger tires and a new chain.
Modified “Dual Purpose” Mt-Bike
Up north field
Woodsy trail and busted chain
Coming up to the edge of the big downhill
The big view
Looking back…it's steeper than it looks
Ghost-town cinder block house out in middle of woods
Dirt road, eh?
