When Black Hawk came through here in the 1820s, on his way to Fort Malden, there was no Moscow. On his last trip, in 1830, there would have been a new, log-cabin tavern. When the militias from Lenawee County and the Detroit area came through here in 1832, on their way to defend the territory from Black Hawk, the town had already gotten off to a start. The log-cabin tavern was then being replaced by a large, frame building, just across the Kalamazoo River from where I stood when I took this photo. The builder/owner was Silas Benson, who also served in a militia company, as did his brother Peter. The place is now an empty lot.

I don’t have the date for this newspaper clipping, but it pre-dates 1970, the year when the tavern was torn down. It served as an antique shop in its last days. It was given to me by a woman who married into the Benson family, though if memory serves her husband was descended from yet another Benson who came to the area a little later than Silas and Peter. She also gave me a typescript of a journal that her husband’s Benson ancestor had kept on the journey to this place. I have it on file somewhere.

Saturday on my way to Moscow I stopped here, across the road from the Convis township hall. It’s a place where I had stopped once before, on a Thanksgiving Day ride in 2006. I couldn’t remember the name of the person, a militia veteran of the Black Hawk war, who had farmed here years afterward, but it never hurts to get another photo.

I took my photo and headed back to my bike on the other side of the road. A man came out of the house, yelling at me, asking why I was taking pictures. I went back to explain and ask if it was OK with him. He was an older man, in overalls, with a big white beard somewhat stained with yellow. It took some time to explain. It didn’t help that I couldn’t even remember the name of the man who made me interested in his place.

We ended up talking for a while about this and that — our gardens, woodchucks, deer, the township hall, old houses, roads we both knew about. He explained that his parents had bought this place in 1949 and that he grew up here. Later in life he came back and bought the place from his parents. He recalled that when he was a little boy, sometimes a car would stop along the road and three old people would get out to look around. They would look at some of the trees (still standing in the yard) and point to this or that one, saying they had planted it. His mother would go out and talk to them and invite them into the house. They would talk about how this room had been for the hired man, that wall didn’t used to be there before, and so on.

He didn’t know their names, but later, I got to wondering whether they were descendents of Reuben White, the old militia veteran, who had lived here. (I remember his name now, because I looked it up.) Perhaps the house had even been built by him.

According to a county atlas of 1916, a White (R.G. White) still owned the place at that time. The land could have been sold to another family in the 33 years between 1916 and 1949, but it could very well have been the same family, too, especially given that elderly people of the appropriate age apparently remembered living there when young.

Usually I look for old county atlases, the older the better. But now I need to find some newer ones, for the period between 1916 and 1949, to see if this land was still in the White family.

I told the gentleman I was talking to that I could come back some time on another ride, with the information and maps I had about the old owners of this property. Now that I’ve thought about it some more, I definitely want to do that this summer. It’s less than 20 miles away, just right for a Sunday afternoon ride.

I thought of asking to take his photo while I was there, but didn’t. I hadn’t brought any of my release forms with me, anyway. Maybe next time.

Who knows, I may have been talking to someone who remembered seeing the grandchildren of Reuben White, who had served in the militia during the Black Hawk war. They may have been people who were old enough to have remembered their grandfather. I get a kick out of connections like that, so find it worth looking into further.

Before I took off to continue my ride, the man asked me a lot of questions about my bicycle touring, the gear I carried, and so on. It was a good roadside visit.

Moscow (Michigan) was the destination for last weekend’s bike ride. I hadn’t been there for several years.

It’s on U.S.-12, Black Hawk’s old route, in the northeastern part of Hillsdale County. The militias from Lenawee County and the Detroit area passed through here in 1832, during the Black Hawk war. A hotel was under construction when they came through — a building that was torn down in 1970.

The photo here is looking west. The road has been improved considerably since 1832. Actually, it has been improved since I last rode here. Now there is a wide shoulder to ride on, although that part ends when you get to the top of the valley on the other side of town. It looks like that part may be slated for resurfacing, too, though. When I first rode on Black Hawk’s route in 1997, there were portions that were wretched to ride on, and not that great for driving, either. But now most of it is a decent route for bicycles.

Moscow is at the bottom of a valley formed by the Kalamazoo River, which is just a small stream here. I don’t think I’m the only person to have thought of the village as a Sleepy Hollow sort of place. Sundown comes early down at the bottom.

On my Sunday ride back home, I passed through a small Amish settlement in in the southeast-most township of Calhoun County, Michigan.

I took this photo of what I take to be an Amish business as one to use when I try to explain that the Amish people are not anti-technology. They’re constantly adopting new technologies, but are very deliberate about what they adopt. They consider carefully the effect any new technology will have on family, social, and spiritual life.

There was nobody to be seen at this homestead.

Everyone was at Sunday morning church service.

I first became aware of this settlement on a weekend ride in 1997. From what little I saw of it then, it seemed like a fairly new one, with young families. It still does not have the air of a long-established settlement. The home where they met this Sunday is under construction. There are some that look like older homes that have been renovated into Amish-style residences. That type seems to be common in smaller, newer communities.

I got back tonight from an overnight bike trip, the first one of 2008, and the first self-contained trip since July 2006. My destination was Moscow, 65 miles from home, along Black Hawk’s old road in Hillsdale County.

Yesterday I had a stiff wind at my back, but even so I didn’t go very fast. But after setting up my tent in the evening, I still felt fresh enough to get in a few miles of riding before the sun went down. That was a nice ride without having all that gear to carry around.

The return trip today was very different, as I knew it would be. This time I was riding into the wind, which was blowing almost as hard as yesterday. And I was a bit stiff and tired, as I always am on day 2. The return trip took three hours longer than the trip going. My in-the-saddle time was probably my slowest ever, and besides that I took a lot of rest breaks.

At the half-way point, I found a place to take a nap in the churchyard pictured above, between Homer and Marshall. A few miles earlier I had got caught in some rain — enough to cause me to put on raingear. But I pulled out my groundcloth and slept on that.

It was a successful nap, in that no driver stopped to ask me if I was all right. I was in an inconspicuous spot, but my bike and I were visible from the road.

I’m not sure how long I slept. Usually I wake after 20 minutes. If I let myself fall asleep after that, there’s no telling how much longer I’ll sleep. But I did let myself sleep longer, and it could have been an hour altogether.

It was definitely refreshing. I’m not sure how I would have finished the ride without it.