Today I rode to Goodrich Prairie just south of the St. Joseph River in St. Joseph County, Michigan.

Well, technically it’s already Monday now. It was a Sunday afternoon ride, my first ride of the year other than commuting to work this past week.

I’ve been to this area many times before, but had never before turned right on this gravel road just after crossing the bridge over the river in Colon Township. This road cuts through the entire length of Goodrich Prairie, not that it’s that long. One of the Black Hawk militia veterans had been the first purchaser of the land to the immediate right, though I don’t know if he ever lived or farmed there. It may have been a purchase made for investment purposes. I also made a stop at the cemetery where he is buried.

The temperatures were supposed to get to 40 today. I don’t know if they ever did. The ride down there wasn’t a problem, even though it would be better to build up to such rides more gradually after a long winter of no riding, except for the 40+ miles I rode commuting this past week. A light wind was behind me, so I felt strong the entire way down. At about the 12 mile mark I took off the light nightcap I use to cover my ears in cool weather. By the time I got to Leonidas, about 25 miles from home, I noticed my feet were a little chilly, especially the one on the windward side. So I put a chemical toe warmers in my shoes. I should not have used the older ones that I’ve had in storage for a couple of years, but they helped for a while.

The winds had started to die down a bit by the time I headed back home, but riding was definitely slower then. The sun went down a few miles before I reached Climax, which is about 13 miles from home. I was definitely feeling weak after the 50-mile mark, with no oomph to go up such small hills as there were along the route. I could still ride, though — just in lower gears. But it was getting colder, and I was losing my desire to ride in the dark. Just before I left home I had removed a pair of leather gloves from my pannier — gloves that could have kept my hands a little warmer than the jersey gloves I was wearing. I called Myra to see if I could take her up on her offer to come and get me, suggesting the gas station on I-94 just five miles ahead.

What I had not expected was how much colder my feet and hands would get in those next 5 miles. The temperature definitely was dropping in the twilight that remained, and by the time I reached the car, I was not in any shape to be riding further. Normally I’m the one who likes cool temperatures and Myra prefers it to be warmer, but we’ve been through this routine at the end of my cool weather rides before. I cranked up the heat, and my toes were feeling almost normal by the time we got home. I ate a bit of leftover dinner she had saved for me, and then crashed for a 3-hour nap. Usually I’ll wake after 20 minutes, but not this time.

Mileage for the day was 61.7. I did an odometer check when riding through Wakeshma County, though. If the original government surveyors did accurate work, my bicycle odometer is reading about 1 percent too high. So call it 61 miles.