Days One and Two
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So, Day One began with a pre-dawn ride to the top of Cadillac Mountain to catch the sunrise. Which I almost did, though I actually spied the sun climbing out of the Pacific about 7/8 of the way up the mountain because I had the wrong time for the sunrise to occur. I had read the sunrise time in Bar Harbor. But of course, on top of Cadillac Mountain, being about 1500 feet (or so) higher, it gets a slightly earlier sunrise. But I caught it nonetheless and, frankly, it was better timing, all things considered. Because the last stretch of riding I did was full of cars all coming down the mountain, having just seen the sunrise, so had I been on time, I would have been caught in the same traffic scrum.
As it was, I had a long, clear slalom down the mountain, affording a neat comparison of barren mountaintop to pine-wooded walls to stubby vegetation to rocky shoreline. Heading back to the hotel, I packed up and headed into Bar Harbor where a very friendly bike tech fixed my valve core. We talked for a bit and I really enjoyed the convo, but I was also champing at the bit to get started on my ride. But I neither wanted to be rude nor fall prey to a mindset in which time and an ambition for miles precluded my ability to take in everything, and everyone, around me.
Eventually, I went and got a breakfast bagel & coffee, and then I was on my way. Riding into Acadia National Park, there was the predictable tourist traffic of people hiking in, but 3-4 miles in the foot traffic fell away and I had the park road and carriage roads largely to myself.
John Muir wrote a lot about nature being like church to him. Using that allusion, Acadia felt like a gothic cathedral. Tall pines passed by as I rode like columns and buttresses. Morning mist clouded my sight like incense. And the canopy felt like solemn hallways, from great room to greater room. There is much more to explore in Acadia that I got to see; I was simply riding the ring road. But it gave me a glimpse of its majesty. So long, I imagine, as one is able to find a time of year to experience it when it’s not thronging with other visitors. I got the sense that, when the season is high, it can start to feel crowded very easily.
Riding around & up the western side of Mount Desert Island, there were summer cottages that put the Hamptons to shame. Every one felt like the main meeting or dining hall of some storied summer camp for the children of diplomats and captains of industry. The further north I got, the closer the houses became, the more modest, the more simple, until eventually I was riding along fairly average suburban homes up until I hit the stretch where I would be camping for the night.
There’s an organization to which I subscribe called Warm Showers. Admittedly, an unfortunate name, but a noble cause. Connecting touring cyclists with people who would enjoy hosting them on their travels. I stayed in a few on my tour last summer. I’ll be doing the same this time, and my first day of riding would be ending at my first Warm Showers host of the ride.
People offer what they have. Sometimes it’s a couch, sometimes it’s a lawn, sometimes it’s a bed. Usually, but not always, there’s a shower. Sometimes there’s laundry. But it’s no charge and is done for the enjoyment of both parties to share stories of the road or swap tips & tricks. My stay that night would be on the land of a woman who lives pretty much off the grid. Well water (which you have to filter before you drink it), no electricity, and pitching your tent under the stars. It was modest, but there were two other cyclists, each with FAR more touring experience than my own, and I was able to both learn and get route insights from them.
Insights which I took advantage of on Day Two. Rather than go the way I planned, I chose what initially appeared to be a busier route but which, in fact, had a much wider shoulder and felt eminently safer to ride. After about 7 miles of that, I turned off onto a gravel road which ran right through middle of nowhere for quite a long stretch. Other than the construction workers fixing a small bridge on that route (around which I had to delicately ford a stream with my bike, gingerly tiptoeing from sandbag to sandbag), I saw no one on the 15 or so miles of path.
Eventually I made it back to pavement, but I had that largely to myself as well for much of the ride. Cars or trucks that passed did so while giving a wide berth. It was the heat & humidity that presented a greater challenge, honestly. I made pit stops whenever possible for drinks along the way, including refilling my water bottles at a local county fire department where a fireman with a handlebar mustache gave me freshly-chilled spring water & an update on the fire season so far.
Finally, I pulled into Bangor and rolled through onto Orono, where my next Warm Showers host lives. I arrived a bit early, and there were a few supplies I needed, so I went a few miles further down the road to Rose Bike Shop (an excellent & well-stocked local bike shop in Orono) where I bought some extra sealant for my tires, a backup headlight (in case I should lose one - a possibility on bumpy gravel roads) and a fresh pair of cleats, as the ones on my shoes are looking pretty beat. The tech there also cleaned my clip-in pedals, revealing the ONE time he ever uses WD-40 on a bike - a notorious no-no among bike techs for anywhere other than this particular use.
Rolling back to my host’s place, I unloaded my bike bags and gratefully showered. I then took him out to dinner at a restaurant he showed me called “Korean Dad” that has a different nationality of food each night. Korean Dad is Korean only on Tuesdays. Wednesdays, it’s the Edelweiss Cafe. Thursdays, it’s Waffle Wednesdays (see the picture - yeah, I’m confused as well). African cuisine on Friday, Lilia’s Cuban Cafe on Saturday, and Ça C’est Bon on Sundays. Each menu is planned by one of the chefs who hails from that particular region, as you can see from the directional arrow pointing the direction and distance to each of their hometowns.
Settling in for the night, now. Tomorrow I’m shooting for 70 miles, ending in Medway, my last stop before I head into Baxter State Park. More gravel in the forecast. And, speaking of forecasts, I’m also keeping my eye on some rain that’s been moving in. I’d not planned any specific rest days, but I’ve left room for them in my schedule, knowing that weather might sideline me for part of the ride. Looks like that strategy may prove to have been useful, over the next few days. More to come on that front (as it were).
By the way, I’ve forgotten to mention: I’m riding with a GPS tracker which ‘pings’ every 10 minutes and creates a trail of digital ‘breadcrumbs’ so that I can be tracked even if I’m out of cell service (which I will be several times along this ride). If you’d like to follow me on my progress, just go to THIS LINK.
