Crawling out of the tent into the damp heavy fog I realized that today I was not going anywhere soon. Everything in the outside air was wet. So I packed what was dry and began the long wait. I removed the rain fly and snapped it like a wet towel. This took care of the drops of dew covering the surface but it was just as wet on the underside. I shook off the tent and carried it over to a spot of sunshine between the road and vault toilet. The drying began. This also prompted a park maintenance worker to stop and tell me that I cannot camp here. I told her that I’ve camped in this spot for three nights and no one else told me that I could camp here. This was a person with no sense of humor. She continued to scowl. After telling her that I was only drying my tent in this tiny spot of sunlight she grumbled her way out of sight. I then went over to the host site for coffee and a donut. Tales of travels were told and received.
I go back to my site to pack up what is dry. A visitor stopped to ask about my tour and talked about his hiking adventures, the Appalachian and the Pacific Crest Trails.
Back on the road or mostly the eight foot shoulder of Route 2, the main route across the Upper Peninsula. Breathing exhaust from the traffic rushing by on the shadeless road. Miles, miles, and miles between towns. I saw Nancy go by heading to her next campsite. She, however, did not see me and disappeared.
I get to Naubinway and stop at a great burger and fish restaurant, I order a burger and milkshake. Then off to the gas station next door for bottles of gatorade. There I met a woman from England on a tour from Astoria, Oregon to Massachusetts. She and her husband are staying at the motel in town.
Now at Hog Island Point State Forest Campground I am relaxing after setting up the tent.
