FIVE LAKES. THREE RIDERS. ONE BROTHERHOOD
A Great Lakes motorcycle ride.
By Scott Waller
Some rides are planned. Others are forged
This one started the way the best rides do — with a loose plan, loaded bikes, and the understanding that we’d figure it out together as the miles disappeared behind us.
I rolled out of Georgia with Mike Letze, met Mike “Hambone” Hamblin in Blue Ridge, GA, and pointed north.
No rigid schedule. No rush. Just three riders committed to seeing the Great Lakes the long way.
The Brotherhood Before the Miles
This ride worked because of who was on it.
Mike Letze — Iron-Ass
Riding a Harley Rocker cross-country takes grit. Letze brings endurance and quiet toughness — and Letze has it. He brings endurance and quiet toughness, the kind that never complains and never asks if it’s time to stop.
“The best part of the Great Lakes trip was the ride itself — the miles, the camaraderie, the laughs, and the scenery that was unforgettable.”
— Mike Letze, 2011 Harley-Davidson Rocker
Mike “Hambone” Hamblin — Steady
Hambone rides calm and unbothered. Long days don’t rattle him. He keeps the pace honest and the mood level — which matters more than people realize when the miles stack up.
“The tour of Lambeau Field was outstanding. You can almost feel the presence of Packer history there.”
— Mike “Hambone” Hamblin, 2019 Harley-Davidson Ultra Limited CVO
Me — Intentional
I ride with purpose. I choose roads for how they feel, not just where they go. I stop for reasons. I believe the smallest rituals are what turn miles into memories.
This wasn’t a rotating cast.
It was the same three riders from start to finish — and that consistency mattered.
Day One — Familiar Roads, Honest Expectations
The Tail of the Dragon was a warm-up. Fun, technical, and famous — but overcrowded and overhyped.
You’re so focused on the road and other riders that it’s hard to enjoy anymore.
The Cherohala Skyway, on the other hand, felt like a reunion. Open, flowing, and calm — the kind of road that reminds you why you love long rides in the first place.
That contrast set the tone early.
When the Ride Changed
Day Two is when the ride shifted.
Stopping at the Ohio State Reformatory wasn’t just a box to check. For anyone who loves The Shawshank Redemption, the movie connection hits immediately. Walking those halls felt familiar in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve seen it.
From there, the ride started to feel different — quieter, heavier, more intentional. That feeling didn’t leave for the rest of the trip.
First Water, First Arrival
Reaching Lake Erie at the Vermilion Lighthouse mattered.
We stopped. Put our hands in the water. No rush.
That became a ritual — one we repeated at every Great Lake we reached. A simple way to mark that we had actually arrived, not just passed through.
It felt like an accomplishment. The ride had officially begun.
Michigan’s Quiet Rewards
Rogers City surprised us. The massive limestone quarry gives the town character immediately, but what stuck was timing — we rolled in during a local event and ended up wandering through a small-town festival we didn’t plan for.
We didn’t stay the night. We kept riding west, carrying the moment with us.
Petoskey — Between Places
Rolling into Petoskey felt like a reward.
Lively, beautiful views of Lake Michigan, plenty to do without feeling touristy. It’s the kind of place you stumble into and immediately know you’ll be back.
Petoskey became the launch point for one of the best days of the trip
The Tunnel of Trees
The Tunnel of Trees (M-119) is moderately technical — accessible to almost any rider — but what makes it special is how intimate it feels. Lake Michigan peeks through the trees, sunlight breaks in and out, and the road pulls you into the moment.
At the end, we stopped in Cross Village.
A Quiet Welcome in Cross Village
At Peninsulas in Cross Village, the owner opened early just for us. No spectacle. No crowd. Just a human moment — the kind that reminded us
why slowing down matters.
We even spent some time with their dog, Chester
Another Crossing, Another Milestone
Standing near the Mackinac Lighthouse, looking at the bridge before riding across it, was pure anticipation.
Crossing the Mackinac Bridge felt like another milestone — exciting, grounding, and a reminder that we were headed toward our final Great Lake.
Lake Superior
Lake Superior felt different.
Quieter. Heavier.
If the Great Lakes were a family, Superior is the parent. Michigan is the wild older child everyone loves. Erie is the younger, predictable sibling. Huron is the overlooked stepchild with more to offer than people realize.
We stopped. Put our hands in the water. Took it in.
Joy Stops and Respect Earned
Stopping at Lambeau Field was spontaneous — and pure joy. As a lifelong Packers fan who grew up watching Brett Favre, this one hit home in a way no planned stop could.
Green Bay itself surprised me. Smaller than expected. Grounded. A place comfortable with who it is. It also gave me a reason to come back — Door County still waits.
Lake Superior
Lake Superior felt different.
Quieter. Heavier.
If the Great Lakes were a family, Superior is the parent. Michigan is the wild older child everyone loves. Erie is the younger, predictable sibling. Huron is the overlooked stepchild with more to offer than people realize.
We stopped. Put our hands in the water. Took it in.
Where the Power is Made
The Harley-Davidson Powertrain Factory impressed me more than the museum.
The precision, automation, and care in the manufacturing process stood out — and the tour made you feel valued, not rushed.
The museum was fine. The factory earned respect.
Standing there, it was impossible not to respect what lasts — machines built to work, not impress.
A Stop That Made Sense
Chicago traffic had already worn thin when I stopped at Route 66 Indian — more curiosity than necessity.
The place is iconic, which made the indifference stand out. No shirts. No poker chips. A suggestion to try Harley instead.
I rolled out irritated.
It felt less like a stop and more like a nod — acknowledging where we came from before moving on.
When the Ride Fights Back
Not long after, traffic was heavy and I made a dumb decision to ride the shoulder. I picked up metal — straight through a brand-new tire.
I was pissed.
On the side of the road, I plugged one hole with three plugs just to keep it from leaking. Not safe. Not ideal. But it held all the way home.
That moment reinforced two things:
Ride prepared.
Ride with people you trust.
Why This Ride Matters
Forge The Ride exists because moments like these deserve to be remembered.
If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound? Brotherhood ensures these moments on the road are never forgotten — not because they’re posted, but because they’re shared.
We forged this ride one mile at a time, with an infinite number of miles still ahead.
Why We Ride
This ride wasn’t about checking boxes or chasing highlights. It was about paying attention — to the road, to the people beside me, and how the ride changed once we stopped rushing.
Somewhere along the way, the miles stopped being the point. The quiet moments mattered more. Familiar roads. Unexpected stops. Shared silence. Those are the things that stayed.
This is why we ride
The Ride, On Paper
Duration: 7 days
Distance: ~2,500 miles
Bikes:
2021 Indian Chieftain Limited (Scott)
2011 Harley-Davidson Rocker (Mike Letze)
2019 Harley-Davidson Ultra Limited CVO (Mike “Hambone” Hamblin)
Great Lakes touched: Erie, Huron, Michigan, Superior
(Hands in the water at each stop)