Road Trip to Maine, Part 2

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

A brief aside. Mt. Desert Island is really two land masses, shaped more like two individual lungs, or kidneys, joined together at one strip on the northern side. This map shows what I mean. The "NorthEast" harbor is really on the southern end, but eastern side, of the eastern "lobe," while the "SouthWest" harbor is on the eastern side of the southern end on the western "lobe".

So, SouthWest is really SouthCentral, and NorthEast is really SouthEast. Are we confused yet?

SouthWest Harbor is another small touristy town, but nowhere near as built up as Bar Harbor. I continued on 102 through the SW harbor down to the natural sea wall where I stopped and hiked for a bit.

While taking photos, I ran into a couple riding two up on a Suzuki Boulevard with Florida plates. They looked like they might have been retired, and the bike looked too small to travel two up from Florida, but I asked them anyway.

"Hey, don't tell me you guys rode two up on that thing from Florida, did you?"

"Oh god no, we strap it on the back of the RV."

"Ahhh, OK, where are you all from?"

"Ocala."

"Oh, I'm from Gainesville. What are the odds of riding 2000 miles to meet someone who lives less than 40 miles from you?"

They told me that they were retired, and spent their summers traveling around the country in the RV and that this was their first trip to Mt. Desert Island.

I continued on 102A down into Bass Harbor and the Bass Harbor Lighthouse, and stopped for some more pictures.

BTW, to get the shots of the light house, I had to crawl out over the ocean to where these folks are standing:

After working up a pretty good sweat and sunburn at the lighthouse, I went back to the campground and cleaned up.

After getting cleaned up I went to the Bar Harbor Bewing Company for their openhouse tour and beer tasting. I was suckered into stocking up on supplies which I had shipped back to the house, but I found the beers to be yummy and the tour interesting.

I then made my way back into Bar Harbor and had dinner at "Rupununi" on Main Street. Once again I had crab cakes, and they were incredible.

With dinner completed, I walked into the town square and enjoyed watching everyone interact and play. I felt inspired, and wrote a brief fictional sketch of the scene.

This day turned out to be fantastic, the riding was good, the scenary was incredible and everyone I met was friendly. It more than made up for the mishap yesterday.

Mileage: 162/2558.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Whaaa! Whaaa! Whaaa! Whaaa!

Damn, there's a baby in a neighboring camp-site and the parents aren't doing anything about it. Hell, my friends got kicked out of a state park for making 1/4th the racket that kid's making.

Ugh, put ear plugs back in, go back to sleep.

Woke up again at 6:30. My sleeping bag was a bit damp from the humidity, so I took it out and hung it up while I showered and got ready for the day.

I was on the road by 9:15AM.

This time, I took 102 south to "Pretty Marsh Road." I stopped along the way and shot half of a roll of film, and then continued to the launching point for the Pretty Marsh Lake.

After that, I followed PMR to the west side of the island, where I joined back up with 102. I followed 102 through West Trenton, and went back down to the Seawall.

Although it was only around 10:30 in the morning, the western side of the island was already in the upper 80s. When I got to the Seawall, the cool atlantic air lowered the temperature to a more palpable 50, or so.

I hiked along the coast for a solid hour, shooting film and watching two gulls fight for a lone rock outcropping. The cold salt air cooled my bones, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore eased my soul.

After my hike, I continued on 102A to 102. Between Bass Harbor and West Trention is a small turnoff for the Bass Harbor itself. I went into Bass Harbor and stopped at Island Astronomy, however they were closed.

Although Island Astronomy was closed, I was fascinated because Bass Harbor was more of what I expected to find in the various harbors around Mt. Desert Island. The harbor was loaded with rusty old ships stacked with lobster pots.

This was the sort of harbor I had been hoping to photograph, and both camera bodies came out. Unfortunately, I didn't think to pull out the digital camera...

When I had shot several rolls of film, I continued on 102 north until I came across "Beech Mountain Road." I followed the road to the parking lot, and saw that there was a 1.6 mile hiking trail.

Having learned from yesterday, I packed a pair of shoes today in my saddle bags and traded my riding boots in for more suitable hiking shoes. I started working my way up the trail, stopping for the occasional photo.

The Beech Mountain trail was amazing because it started out very warm and humid, but when you turned a corner that left you with a stunning view, the cool atlantic air covered you with the best air conditioning money could buy.

For the most part, the trail was fairly isolated and I only ran into one or two other hikers until I got to the top of the mountain. At the top, there was an observation tower with several hikers relaxing before making the trek back to the parking lot.

When I was done with the hike, I worked my way into the SouthWest Harbor, which is really on the SouthCentral part of the island, for lunch. I decided to break from the seafood theme and went to "The Downeast House of Dogs," and although the food was good, the service was terrible.

With lunch done, I decided to go to the local internet café, "The Mouse Pad," (isn't that cute?), and fire off a few quick emails. I sent a note to Sandy, telling her how great Maine was, and then another one to the geeks and bikers back in Gainesville. When that was done, I decided it was time to go visit Cadillac Mountain.

According to legend, if you hike to the top of Cadillac Mountain right before the sun rises, you can be the first person in the United States to see the mornings light.

I don't know about that, but I do know that it is one of the biggest tourist destinations for visitors to Acadia. Because of this, it was packed to the gills with people and buses, definately not what I had in mind.

There was a little 1/4 mile hiking trail from the top, which I did, bumping and pushing everyone out of the way in an effort to find a piece of privacy. Unfortunately, this trail was not the place to find it.

When I got back to the parking lot, I saw a sign pointing out another 2.2 mile hiking trail. Well, if nothing else, maybe it would be a little less crowded.

This particular trail was on the North East side of the mountain, and afforded a pretty good view of Bar Harbor below.

I found a lone outcropping, and sat down for awhile and collected my thoughts. Here was a place I was able to find peace and quiet, away from everyone and everything.

Work was 2,000 miles away.

School was behind me.

Even the cracks in the bike were not an issue.

I found peace.

After the hike, I went up to Ellsworth to visit the Wallymart and see if I could get something that might buff the scratch in the face shield out.

While in the parking lot, one of the straps for my tankbag broke. Aye, what else could go wrong on this trip??

I repaired it with a zip tie, then continued on into town. Although it was annoying, I had been shopping for a replacement bag anyway, and this just gave me the opportunity to get off my cheap-skate ass and get a new one.

After my visit to Wallymart, I stopped for dinner at Lunts Lobster Pound, which is on 230 in Trenton, right between Ellsworth and Mt. Desert Island.

Lunts is an amazing place. It was built in 1930, and really has that small town, everyone knows your name, kind of atmosphere. There is a communal sink to wash up after you're gorged yourself on shellfish out back, and there were picnic tables where families and friends could gather for a meal under the shade of a tree.

I ordered the Lobster Dinner, and it was $14 with two sides. One tip, they don't give refills on sodas, but they will for tea. Like most places north of Virginia, they don't know what sweet tea is.

The total bill, with tip, the soda, and tax, was less than $18. And I was stuffed.

After dinner, I went back into Bar Harbor and walked around for a bit. Knowing that it was my last night on the island, I decided to find a café and have a piece of blueberry pie.

I stopped at Donohue's, which is also on Cottage Street, and for about $10 I had a slice of yummie pie a-la-mode and a Bar Harbor Real Ale. The hostess was incredibly friendly, as most of the people I met in Maine were, and she didn't act like "oh god, I've only heard that question a gajillion times" when I asked her about living with the winters.

On my way back to the camp-site, I caught one of the most spectacular sunsets I had seen on the trip.

It was a fitting end to my stay on Mt. Desert Island.

Mileage: 122/2680.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

My planned route would take me into the interior of Maine, and then back to the coast by Portland, where I had a service scheduled for Friday.

This morning was different from the others I had experienced so far on my trip; US-1 was fogged in and the temperatures were cold. Now, this is more of what I expected from Maine..

I took US-1 into the town of Belfast, where I then hopped on 137. 137 was a pretty decent road, and the fog broke while I was riding it. I made my way to Albion, where I jumped onto US-202.

When I got to Augusta, although I had planned to pick up an A in Auburn, I thought about stopping at the post office and grabbing it there. Unfortunately, the post office in Augusta only says that it is the "Edmund Muskie Federal Building," so I continued with my original plan.

On the way to Auburn I stopped at a large Harley shop and looked around. I was really surprised at how well stocked they were, especially considering that the riding season in the interior of Maine has got to be very short.

Once I got into Auburn I realized that it was a bigger town than I was expecting, and without my GPS (which died, remember?), I wasn't entirely sure how I would find the post office.

But, being the resourceful guy I am (and bashful and modest too), I stopped at a gas station for directions. Asking directions is a novel concept, but I found that although the attendant did not have a clue where to go, he had a map on the wall which showed me the way.

With fresh directions in my head, I made my way to the post office and the mighty A.

After completing that order of business, I continued on 202 into Gray, where I jumped on 100 towards Portland.

Having skipped breakfast, and 11:30, I was pretty hungry when I drove past Allen's, a place that's truly different. It's a gas station. Convenience store. Restaurant. And gardening supply place, all rolled into one.

You can even buy a real officially licensed Larry the Cable Guy "Git-R-Done" hat at Allen's.

I went ahead and stopped in for lunch, and ordered a burger and fries.

Let me warn you, if you ever stop there for lunch, be prepared to share the fries with a small country because they are anything but stingy. They brought me an entire plate packed with the things, and then the burger.

I tried my best, but I could barely dent all of the food, and I reluctantly had to throw it out.

After the lunch, I continued on 100 into Portland, and went downtown to get my bearings. My appointment was in Falmouth, which was about 10 miles north of where I was. Additionally, my cell phone started working and I had a message from Ian saying that he had received the saddle bag and it was ready for me.

I went ahead and went north on US-1 into Falmouth, where I found a hotel. I checked in and proceeded to do some laundry and then went out for a one hour hike around the area.

After my hike, I made a few phone calls to family, then had dinner at "Ricettos". I enjoyed a Harpoon IPA draft, and then walked back to the hotel.

Shortly after getting back, I got a call from Tim saying that sport-touring.net was down, and that the site owner was trying to track me down because I had been playing the role of sysadmin there for the last six months or so. I told Tim I was in Maine, nowhere near a computer, but to have Neal call me if he still needed help. I also recommended contacting Mike L. from Salt Lake, since he probably had access to a computer and could help.

After the call, I met and started talking to another lone traveler. His name is Don Estes, and he's from Long Island and was riding a Wingding. We chatted for a bit about riding, he was heading up to Nova Scotia, and I was about to head home.

Finally, it was time for him to go to lunch, and I went into the room and continued to read Glen's book.

Mileage: 189/2869.

Posted at: 20:15 on 19/08/2005   [ /travel ] #

The Town Square, a sketch written in Bar Harbor
The setting; a town square at dusk.

A woman is staring at a light pole, her hands are covering her eyes, and she counts, "One!"

A little boy is tossing a ball up in the air and catching it, while his dad is tossing his baby sister up in the air and catching her.

"Two!"

A college aged kid who flunked out of school is walking around with a mandolin, looking to earn enough money tonight to buy some beer or score dope.

"Three!"

A little boy is riding his bicycle - thrilled that a month ago his training wheels came off forever. His father beams at him, proud that his boy is able to master the bicycle.

"Four!"

A little girl, not more than four years of age, pushes a stroller which holds her six-week old baby brother.

"Five!"

Two lovers are stretched out on the soft grass, basking in the suns warmth. Tonight she plans on telling him they will be having a baby. He will ask her to marry him.

"Six!"

A nuclear family, Mother, Father, two boys and a sister, have spread out a blanket to enjoy a picnic. They pull out of the blanket boxes of fried chicken, corn, and mashed potatos. For dessert, they will have blueberry pie.

"Seven!"

The college drop-out starts playing his mandolin. Although he has only been playing the mandolin for about six months, he has learned two songs well enough that he can earn enough money to survive. He starts playing a gaellic tune.

"Eight!"

A group of elderly menonite ladies, who are on tour to visit this town, frump their way through the square, disapproving of almost everything they see.

"Nine!"

A mother spins her daughter in circles. The girl laughs hysterically after she loses her balance and falls down on her bottom.

"Ten!"

Two high school aged girls, looking for adventure, are sitting under a tree. One is chewing gum, the other is smoking a cigarette but coughs like someone who is not used to smoking. Both are wearing halter-tops and mini-skirts. Both look bored.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

The woman finds her son hiding behind some bushes and the chase begins again.

Posted at: 19:03 on 19/08/2005   [ /essays ] #

ESTN 2005, part 1
In May I signed up for the Team Strange 21st Anniversary Grand Tour. According to the rules of the tour, I must visit individual towns that start with letters which could be used to spell the phrase "TEAMSTRANGE AIRHEADS" and then a route 21. Each town could only be used once, and I had to provide photographic documentation that my bike had actually made the trip. Not being satisfied with taking the easy way for anything, I also decided to tackle the Dave McQueeney challenge, which requires that each town visited be in a unique state; each town and state could be used only one time.

In June I visited the Sport-Touring.Net national rally, which allowed me to rack up a number of states. However, I still needed a few final letters, and I used the idea of a ten day trip to Maine to celebrate graduating college as an excuse to finish the tour. During the trip I burned my buns, met up with some friends for a rally, finished the tour, drank some beer and fine scotch, and ate some bugs (crustaceans).

This is the story of that trip.

Thursday, August 4, 2005

My route took me up to US-301 through the speed traps of Waldo, Starke, and Lawtey. I hit I-10 close to 11:30, and the temperature was already approaching the high 90s, but considering I had just finished school I was feeling pretty good. The Eagles came on channel 46, and I launched onto the on-ramp just as Don Henley began crooning about living life in the fast lane.

I continued on I-10 east to Jacksonville, where I took I-295 north to 95. It started to rain a little bit on I-95 just south of Savannah, but I was happy for the chance to cool down from the heat. In South Carolina I jumped onto I-26, then I-77 through Columbia.

Although I was making decent time, I managed to hit Charlotte right at rush hour. With the construction on I-77, traffic slowed to a crawl and I easily lost 30 minutes from my pace. On top of the traffic, it was easily 98 or 99 degrees, and even with my camelbak I felt the heat ripping me to shreds.

As I was crossing into Virginia, my phone started to ring. It was a buddy of mine who is currently looking for a Honda 919, and he wanted to ask me some questions about one he found. He asked where I was, and I explained that I was doing 70 on the interstate crossing the NC/VA state line.. I guess the starcom was acting up because he mentioned it was making a little background noise.

Thankfully, the Virginia mountains were substantially cooler, and it helped bring my core temperature back down.

In Beckley, WV, I got off of the interslab and took US-19. US-19 in West Virginia is a decent four laned highway which takes you over the New River Gorge. As the sun was falling, I got a splended view of the Appalachians at sunset.

I continued on US-19 to I-79, and then took 79 North. This stretch of 79 is surprisingly twisty, and I had to keep checking my speed to make sure I didn't out drive the lights on this road.

I pulled into Fairmont around 10:45PM, and was told by the front desk clerk that the others had already arrived and left me a key while they went to dinner. Five minutes after my arrival, Allen, Mark, and Tim arrived bearing gifts of beer. Sean was not in yet, but Allen received a voice mail saying he was on his way and was caught in construction on the western side of WV (I-79).

After having a few beers, we decided to call it an early night. We requested a 5:30AM wake-up call, and left the door unlocked and slightly ajar so Sean could stumble in when he arrived. It was midnight, and for the day I had ridden 806 miles.

Friday, August 5, 2005

The alarm clock was going off. Damn, I didn't remember setting it, neither did Allen. I looked down at it and said to myself, "WTF?!" as I saw it blinking 4:30AM. Apparently some cruel and unusual person left the alarm clock set for oh dark 30 when he had inhabited this room.

After figuring out how to turn off the alarm, I went back to sleep.

5:50AM, my circadian rhythm kicked into gear and woke me up. Wait a second, weren't we supposed to get a 5:30AM wake-up call??

I woke up Allen who promptly uttered an expletive to describe his dismay at the time. He took it upon himself to wake everyone else up, and explain that we must get on the road ASAP -- we had to arrive at the Smugglers Notch State Park by 8PM, or we would be unable to check in for the evening. We had fourteen hours to go 750 miles, with a group of five riders; the mileage wouldn't be so bad for one or two, but group rides are always difficult to keep on track for a decent pace.

We tracked down Sean, who had checked himself into another room so he wouldn't disturb us, and started working on packing everyone up. We were able to hit the road by 6:40AM, which left us with just a little over thirteen hours to go. The front desk guy apologized for forgetting to turn on the wake-up call, but what was done was done.

Tim was volunteered to lead the way, and he punched the destination into his GPS and let it handle the routing. We took I-79 to I-81, then 81 into Maryland and Pennsylvania. We stopped in Cumberland for breakfast around 9:30, and while pulling into the parking lot I realized I had just finished a saddlesore 1000 (1007 miles in 23 hours). After breakfast we continued on I-81 through the town of Carlisle, up to 78 and ultimately Allentown.

We continued on 78 into New Joisey, and stopped in Bloomsbury to get gas. Surprisingly, the legislators in New Joisey must have no faith in their constituants because it is impossible to take a left turn, or pump your own gas. Instead, the rule is that you must take a right turn, then perform a u-turn, if you wanted a right. It took us 10 minutes to figure this out, and then we lost additional time when the station attendant wouldn't let us fill our own bikes. The guys on the ST1300's mentioned that it was already 98F, damn when would I finally be away from the heat?? I was starting to feel heat related edema and a little bit of a headache after the last two days of baking in the sun.

All told, the New Joisey gas stop took us about 45 minutes. None of us were impressed with the state.

We continued north on 78 up to 287, and then took the NY Turnpike (87) up to Albany. Along the way to Albany, we got sucked into a horrible rainstorm. Although it only lasted about 15 minutes, visibility was dropped to near zero and my "waterproof" GPS leaked water and stopped working. At least the rain cooled down the roads..

We arrived in Albany around 5PM, but found ourselves stuck in rush hour traffic. On top of that, there was a car broken down up ahead and one lane was shut down.

It didn't look good, but I called the campground and pleaded our case. They agreed to let us check in up to around 8:15PM, but we still had a ways to go and quite a bit of traffic to contend with.

Once we got past the airport, we were able to break free from the pack and Tim set a blistering pace to make up for lost time. We continued up 87 to the Schroom Lake exit, and went up to Crown Point where were crossed Lake Champlain into Vermont. We continued through Burlington to VT-128, then 104, and finally 108. Coming from the north, we rode through the Smugglers Notch, which considering it becomes a one lane road with no room for a car and a bike to pass head on, makes it a pretty interesting section of road. We arrived at the state park at 8:15PM; I had just completed a little over 1550 miles in the 34 hours since leaving Gainesville.

After setting up tent, we went into Stowe to grab dinner. The restaurant we choose was extremely expensive, and the meal was not worth mentioning. Discouraged, Tim, Mark, and I went back to the campground while Sean went to meet everyone else at the official lodge.

Once arriving at the campground we met up with the Canadian crew (Corbeau, Richard, and Ben), along with Troy, the guy I was sharing my camp-site with. Troy related an amusing story about trying to check in before my arrival, and explaining how he had never met me, knew what I looked like, or knew my last name. However, because I had already let the park know I would be sharing the camp-site, they let him check in without too many troubles.

That evening we stayed up until a little past midnight, enjoying the fine company, plus the libations of single malt, port, or beer, depending on the preference of the individual. Many lies were told about various exploits, but we all still went to bed pretty early.

Saturday, August 6, 2005

Although I felt we were pretty quiet, apparently we made so much ruckuss that no one camping next to our sites heard us, but the ranger still asked the Canadians and the group I had ridden up with to leave within 20 minutes, all while I was taking a shower.

The ranger claimed he had received "over seven" complaints about the noise made from bikes running up and down all night long, as well as the laughing and carrying on. He even claimed to be sitting outside the camp-site, listening to us make noise well past 1AM.

Yeah, those ST1300's really do make an awful lot of noise, and why would he sit and listen while a "rowdy bunch of bikers" disturbed everyone else, rather than just come up to us and ask us to tone it down .. Besides, we all went to bed by 12:30 from exhaustion, so I wasn't buying the "1AM" story.

Regardless, although my camp-site was not evicted, I believe in solidarity, and these were the guys I had come up to hang out with, so I decided to leave too. While packing up my site, I asked some of the neighboring campers if they heard any noise, and they all denied it. Only one person said he heard a noise, and he happily admitted he complained about it. Considering the manner in which he extolled how proud he was of his achievment, I suspect he embellished a bit to the ranger.

We wound up moving to a campground just south of Stowe on 100, but they didn't open until 9. We used the opportunity to grab breakfast at a little café downtown, which is when I discovered how good blueberry scones can be. These things were not scones in the traditional sense; they were clumbs of blueberries held together with just enough dough to shape them into a clump, and boy were they yummie.

After breakfast, we got checked into the new site. Some of the guys wanted to go to Maine, others wanted to go to the Kankamagus in New Hampshire. Because I had the rest of my trip planned on my SP3, I really wanted to see if I could revive it.

Tim hung out with me while I disassembled it with my leatherman. Sure enough, there was about a table spoon of water in the unit, but I was unable to make it fire up again. This really bothered me because I had my final four destinations for the grand tour, plus a number of breweries and lobster pounds plugged into it for the Maine portion of my trip. Although I lost the waypoints, I had printed out the addresses for the four post offices I intended to visit, and the first one was near Stowe.

Tim decided to tag along with me, and we headed off to Essex, Vermont. Unfortunately, the post office in Essex does not list the state. When I asked the lone postal employee working in the center about this, she went above and beyond the duty of any government employee and told me, "so?".

But, she did say there might be another post office down the road, and proceeded to give me directions to a UPS store. That wouldn't have worked, but on the way I found a municipal office sign which should.

With the E out of the way, we took 116 south to 17, then 17 through Sugarbush. 17 is a pretty nice road, with some decent curves, but one thing I quickly learned is that many north eastern roads have little furrows in them, called frost heaves, which can make travel on two wheels entertaining. But the telelever absorbed it all, and life was good..

After riding 17, we took 107 to 110, and worked our way back to Stowe. Tim and I went to dinner at a decent little sports-bar, and one of the waiters came by to talk with us about our bikes. He kept talking about his Aprilla, and how much fun he has riding it three months a year, and he clued us in on some of the better roads in the area off the beaten track.

After dinner we went back to the campground and met up with the rest of the gang. Corbeau's wife came down from Ottawa, bringing Cadbury the wonder dog, along with very important camping supplies (beer, scotch, and ice). This night we stayed up well past 2:00AM, discussing issues of serious importance like the application of Kantian theory towards the war on terror, and the rising price of gasoline.

Total mileage: 221 for the day, 1767 for the trip.

Sunday, August 7, 2005

Following the directions the waiter had given us the night before, we took 100 north to the town of Eden Mills, where we hopped on "North Road" (or "Eden Mills Road," depending on who you ask). This road turned out to be a gem, with some nice gentle sweepers, and fresh asphalt lacking frost heaves. We followed it north to 58, which put us near the Vermont/Canadian border, a place where most tourists seem not to dwell. Then we took 58 to 5A. We took 5A to 105, which we followed to US 3, southbound.

While heading south on US 3, we stopped in Groveton for an overpriced lunch of burgers and fries before popping onto 110. 110 in New Hampshire is a great little road, it crosses over the northern portion of the White Mountains, but is far enough north of Conway that there is zero traffic on it. Once we crossed the range, we headed south on 16 through the rolling parking lot.

When we met up with 112, we took it over the Kancamagus Pass to I-93. Because we were running short on time, and Sean had to pack up his stuff and leave Stowe that afternoon, we took the fastest route and followed 93 past the "Old Man of the Mountain," who has recently lost his nose, to US-2, then 2 to 15 and 100.

When we got back to Stowe we had dinner at "Pie in the Sky," which turned out to be the best, and least expensive, meal for the entire time we stayed in Vermont.

Although the Kancamagus had potential to be a fun road, it was so backed up with the weekend yuppie traffic that trying to avoid being creamed by a guy in a SUV chatting on his cell phone really detracted from the ride. Personally, I preferred route 110 quite a bit.

Mileage: 311 for the day, 2078 for the trip

Monday, August 8, 2005

We all went to the Green House and grabbed a quick bite. During breakfast, Guy and I decided to ride together into Maine, and when we were finished, we wished Tim a safe ride back to Michigan and proceeded east.

Our plan to get into Maine was to ride north of the traffic jam in New Hampshire, and shoot across US-2. From there, we would split up somewhere in Maine, with myself going Downeast and Guy going south.

We left Stowe heading north on 100 to 15A, and took that to 15. We continued east on 15 to US-2 and shot across Vermont into New Hampshire. In Jefferson we stopped at the world famous Santas Village to take pictures of the utter weirdness.

We continued on into Maine, and were promptly greeted with 20 miles of mud road the minute we crossed the state line. Not being one to shy away from a little off-road, we continued east bound, but my reserve light came on within a mile of crossing the state line.

This stretch of US-2 was very remote, and passing through the town of Gilead I began to wonder if I would be able to find a gas station before running dry, but Bethel proved big enough to have a station and we filled up there.

We stopped for lunch at a little place called "On Top of the Hill" just outside of New Sharon, and when I came out I found my bike lying on its side. Some of the right side fairing was cracked, and the right side saddlebag wound up getting destroyed because it was dislodged from the mountaing brackets and rubbed into the rear tire. Guy split off to go to Portland, and I decided I needed to call my insurance company, so I made my way towards Bangor, where my cell phone would work.

Although I was annoyed about the damage to the bike, the ride towards I-95 kept taking me through beautiful forests and soft rolling hills. The geography of the region is interesting; the mountainous regions were formed from block uplifting of the underlying strata when two continental shelfs collided, but then over several millenia, glaciers scrubbed down the ridges as they pushed moraines through the region. As the glaciers melted, the moraines were deposited as large smooth boulders scattered throughout the region.

From New Sharon I took 137, which turned out to be quite a decent little road with zero traffic, to 95. I followed I-95 north to Bangor, where I filed a claim with my insurance company. They wanted me to get a quote on the repairs as soon as possible, so I cancelled part of the trip which would have had me working for a day in Vermont so that I could get home a few days earlier.

After that unpleasantness was done, I continued on 1A into Ellsville. The sun was blazing and according to several signs I saw on the way, the weather was between 95-100F.

Once arriving in Ellsville, I bopped onto 3 and made my way to the Mt. Desert campground where I had reserved the last available spot two weeks prior to heading north. After setting up my tent, I hopped in the shower and cleaned up before heading into Bar Harbor for dinner and site seeing.

Bar Harbor survives because of the tourism industry, however it's not annoying in the presentation. There are a number of gift shops, outfitters, restaurants, and the like surrounding the bay. I walked around the harbor and shot a roll of film, focusing mostly on the ships in the bay.

I had dinner at the Fish House Grill, which is right on the corner of the pier. Although it was probably one of the most expensive places in Bar Harbor, it was substantially cheaper than anything I had in Stowe.

My waiter was not a particularly jovial fellow, and he reminded me quite a bit of Kathy Bates' character in the film Misery. However, at his suggestion, I enjoyed two local brews, the Bar Harbor Real Ale and the Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale, along with my dinner of crab cakes.

After dinner, I meandered around the downtown zocalo, watching the families with kids playing in the park. Several of them were enjoying ice cream, and it looked quite good, so I fought my way into the line at the shop and ordered a scoop of the soft serve blueberry. It was divine.

Mileage: 318/2396

Posted at: 13:27 on 19/08/2005   [ /travel ] #