Higher up on the main deck a swift breeze cooled things down and I searched for birds as we pulled out of harbor. Only a few loons bobbed in the water, but I earned a few moments of amusement spying on the odd assortment of passengers on board. I made three circuits around the ship, doing my best to avoid conversation with a verbose motorcyclist I'd met while tying in below.
The ride across Michigan was four hours, and I was feel a bit stifled by the crowds, so I went looking for a quiet corner to repose. I discovered a small crewman's ladder to the uppermost deck. There was a small chain and some warning signs, but I feigned ignorance and climbed up quickly.
The top was beautiful and completely empty. From the safety of a small alcove behind the bridge I was totally secluded, out of view from everyone, and with everyone out of view from me. It felt suddenly like I was the only one aboard. I took off my boots and sprawled out on my back, lazily reading the last few pages of The Merchant of Venice before falling into a warm sleep.
Soon I was across, and back in the saddle. The day was fading but I didn't have far to go. Juniper was near, on her way from Canada, where her patience had burst and sent her driving southwest to meet me. I took the road north from Ludington, admiring the red setting sky. The smell of summer was all over the countryside, and I knew that I was on my way towards something good.
|Those bicycles look scared, no?|