My bike’s brakes, sounding like an out-of-tune violin, announced my arrival long before I bounced into sight. With tires bumping along Copper Harbor’s Dancing Bear Trail, I clambered over rocks and roots, up and down hills in a relentless waltz, melding trees to sky and fallen leaves with mud in a muted autumn symphony.
A few seconds later, my husband Keith came into view, waiting where Dancing Bear merged into Red Trail. He nodded toward a sign, warning riders of a mother bear with cubs, just ahead on the trail. We smiled–no words necessary–and turned around to climb back up Dancing Bear.
Shifting into the granny gear, my bike and I crawled up a hill, no longer waltzing but performing a slow ballet without any grace. Keith vanished around a bend in the trail, riding with strength and balance. He hopped over roots and spun up rocky outcroppings, remaining calm despite the obstacles—his riding a reflection of his personality.
And even though sweat dripped in my eyes and I wished my bike had an even lower gear, I noticed the sun lingering in the cloudless sky, promising a few more hours of daylight. My favorite trail waited a short pedal away.
“Point Trail?” I asked Keith after I’d caught up with him “I think we have ti—.”
Keith was off again, no convincing needed. Because in a place like Copper Harbor, there’s always time for another trail. The village might not have cellular service or espresso but it has more of what matters—trails snaking into deep woods, along with an even deeper sense of tranquility.
We dashed along Point Trail’s rocky spine, rolling through woods and hesitating here and there to enjoy views of Lake Superior, Fort Wilkins State Park, and Lake Fanny Hooe. Toward the end of the trail, sunlight, filtering through trees, brushed golden fingertips across a long boardwalk.
Later, after dinner, as the afternoon sashayed into evening, leaving the forest bathed in shadows and the horizon washed in fuchsia, we walked from our campground a short distance to the Gas Lite, the only convenience store in town, for a soda. An early moon hung in the sky, while waves from Lake Superior murmured, whispering a contented tune, a Copper Harbor lullaby.
Love, Love, love your cycling experience. I so want to go! Been to The double H’s, and love that peninsula. Thanks for sharing. Great photos, of course.
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Thanks, Sandy. And if you enjoyed the Double H’s, then you’ll love Copper Harbor! Happy Autumn to you!
2nd attempt at posting…
Love your adventure.
Love that particular peninsula.
Love your photos.
Thanks for sharing.
This sounds so appealing. I’ve never biked anywhere but asphalt but you make me want to try it 😊
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Dirt trails/roads are perfect for quiet exploration, but all biking is worthwhile, whether on asphalt or dirt–it’s one of the best ways to see the world!
Thanks, Janice. I know I’ve gotten a bit with my historical fiction one, and in my case I usually have only one faithful follower. (Yay, Erin) But I wanted someplace for any fantasy readers to go. Besides, my publisher likes that separation. Anyway. Podcasts are more the thing, I think, but I’m too camera shy. S. L. (Aka Sandy)
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