Shelter at the Paris County Park - Paris, Michigan

It was difficult to hear each other over the crunching roar of bike tires and gravel.  As we rode in formation, I watched the numbers slowly increase on my bike’s computer odometer.  I looked up and to my right to glance at Ryan as he slowly pushed the pedals.  Although it didn’t look like he was struggling, I could sense his fatigue.  He was pulling a trailer with over one hundred pounds of gear.  He was quiet.  He starred at the ground just ahead of him. We were all quiet.

The rain was relentless.  It wasn’t a hard rain, but rather a cold and consistent one; a rain that had, so far, lasted 2 hours.  Everything was soaked.  The air temp had fallen below 55 degrees Fahrenheit – hypothermia weather.  Because we had been riding for two and a half hours – the cold was a little less noticeable.  No one seemed “unhappy”.  Actually, I assumed that everyone was content and in an upbeat frame of mind.  I was about to find out that I was completely alone in my optimistic la-la land.

As we approached 24 miles I kept a close eye on the odometer.  Our three new members had decided to combine their gear in one trailer and take turns pulling it.  They would switch at 12 mile intervals.  It was my job to track those miles and let them know when we reached those milestones. 

As we continued, I would glance at the odometer then at the current “mule” rider, Ryan.  I, too, had a trailer, but it was less than half their weight and only had a single tire.

As soon as mile 24 displayed itself, I called out “Twenty Fooouurrr!” 

As if I had activated the air brakes to a slow moving train, everything immediately ceased.  Ryan’s rear tire locked and slid an S shape into the trail.  The bikers behind him were forced to react with the quick reaction of startled drivers.  He was done pulling – there was no doubt about that. 

They changed “mules”, downed some water and an energy bar and Bill took over the duties of “draft biker”. 

We were on the longest rail-trail in Michigan – the White Pine Trail State Park.  We intended Cadillac, but we made Paris.  It was an “experience” they would say.  They would say it enough that it became the trip motto.   “It’s an experience”.

An experience it was; a good one with cold, shivering misery.  But the misery was just fuel for the fire and character that we built that day.  A fire and character that will bring them back for the next challenge. 

We were cold, tired, thirsty and drained. . . and it was a great time!