The best rides are the ones where I can talk some friends into coming along. Jay and Jan joined Mona and me for an apple picking weekend in South Haven, MI. South Haven has a number of nice biking opportunities including the Kal-Haven Trail.
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| Jan, Mona and a covered bridge |
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| Noooo! |
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| The weather was unusually nice for late October. |
Jay was so wiped out by the ride he declined to come out for dinner. We were a reluctant to leave him alone as he was barely responding to our questions. Uneasy, we decided to go out for dinner and bring Jay back a carry-out pizza. As we left the rental house, Jay called to us, "Get it with pepperoni!"
"He's going to be OK," we laughed. In the end, I think he was just dehydrated. After dinner we celebrated with a fire at the beach.
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| Jan helping with the firewood! |
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| Pat helping with firewood (not so much) |
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| Michigan sunset |
It was a surprisingly nice evening for Michigan in late October, but Michigan is a great place to visit anytime of year. It's blessed with luminous beaches in the summer, apple picking in the fall and skiing in the winter. Admittedly, Michigan skiing pales in comparison to ski destinations out west, but if you don't mind repeatedly skiing the same few runs, Michigan skiing can be a lot of fun.
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| Smile Jan! |
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| Smile Jay! |
When I started dating Mona, I learned she was a member of the Hustlers Ski Club. I had only skied a couple of time in my life, but I figured I better sign up rather stay home while my new girlfriend was spending weekends away with a group of "hustlers."
A typical club trip included a long coach bus ride to a Midwestern ski area, two days of skiing, and a long bus ride back. The party started as soon as we boarded the coach buses in the Triton Community College parking lot and continued throughout the weekend. On the bus, it was a rolling bash. Folks in the aisles, talking over the seat backs, singing "Hang on Sloopy" on the PA. We'd arrive at the hotel after midnight, tumble into bed and then wake to an early alarm because the one redeeming quality of the Hustlers, was they never let anything get in the way of skiing. Hangovers, icy slopes, negative wind chills, the Hustlers skied.
On my first trip, I found myself on rental skis, blue jeans, cotton hat and snow covered as I fell at every possible opportunity. I distinctly remember a tumble below the chairlift at Nubs Nob that elicited peals of laughter from the riders above. I did not give up. After a few seasons of skiing with the Hustlers, I had my own skis, a complete set of brightly colored outerwear, and could ski Midwestern slopes without crashing.
By this time, Mona and I were married, with a house in the suburbs, and we were considering getting pregnant. We recognized our days as Hustlers would soon be over.
Each year the Hustlers organized one week-long trip out West or to Europe. This year, the big trip was to Kitzbühel, Austria. Mona and I signed up with the romantic notion that we would conceive in Europe. But as many parents learn, such plans can go astray, and by the time the trip rolled around, Mona was three months pregnant.
We were joined by fellow Hustlers, Anna and Mark. Anna was Mona's BFF from first grade and Mark was Anna's boyfriend. Mark and Anna started dating on a Hustlers trip after some confusion about hotel room keys. Despite Mona's condition, we were determined to have a good time.
At the airport, the club issued us neon pink hats, each embroidered with "Hustlers" so club members could easily find each other while on the slopes. The hats were quite distinctive as we stood to board our flight at O'Hare airport. After takeoff, as soon as the seatbelt signs went off, we behaved as did on the coach bus, drinking, leaning over seats, milling in the aisles, having a party. The Sabena flight crew didn't seem to mind as the Hustlers had booked every seat. By the time we arrived in Europe, we had consumed every drop of alcohol on the plane.
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| Waiting for the Glockenspiel |
At our next stop, in Munich, we were led to the Marienplatz to witness the Glockenspiel at 5pm on a bitterly cold evening. So there we stood, fifty Americans wearing neon pink hats staring up at the clock tower waiting for the show to start. The Germans walking home from work must have been amused by the Americans with their necks craned back on a bitterly cold evening because the Germans knew the Glockenspiel only runs in the summer. The worst part, we waited at least 20 minutes. I mean come on, if the clock doesn't go off at 5, it's not suddenly going to spring to life at a quarter after.
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| Mark, Anna and Mona |
A bus ride later, we were welcomed to Kitzbühel by Hermann, our hotel proprietor. We promptly took over the place. Kitzbühel is renown for miles of skiable terrain, but it depends on natural snowfall which was sorely lacking that year. The lower slopes were ice sheets and almost unskiable, so we spent most of our time above the tree line at Pass Thurn. After five days in Kitzbühel, the Hustlers and their pink hats must have made an impression as on the last evening, a bar tender made an impassioned plea for my hat, offering me all sorts of bar tchotchkes in exchange. I refused -- something I regret as I never wore that ugly pink hat again.
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| Munich Olympiapark |
After Kitzbühel, the four of us continued on to Vienna while most of the Hustlers returned home. On the return flight, the club was joined by travelers connecting from Africa. Imagine, after a long red-eye flight, boarding a plane full of loud Americans all wearing pink hats. And as soon as the seat belt sign went off, the pink-hatted Americans commenced to have a big party in the aisles. The Hustlers again made an impression, as the Sabina ground crew in Chicago were still talking about it months later.
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| Route: South Haven to Bloomingdale, MI |
Ride Summary
- State: Michigan
- Date: 2011-10-22
- Route: Kal-Haven Trail
- Distance: 36 miles
