Hampton to Sackville!!!

I made a fairly early-morning departure thanks to a good night’s sleep and was even gifted with some snacks for the road ahead.  It was certainly not blue skies and sunshine in south-eastern New Brunswick, but the fog and rain blew in and out and the winds were not overly uncooperative as I headed toward Moncton.  I stuck to the TransCanada most of the way, pulling over for the occasional snack/water/pee break as desired, and took the old road from Salisbury into downtown Moncton.  

Around 2pm, I was sitting in the foyer of the Moncton Public Library scarfing down some food, willing my legs to re-juice, and evaluating my options:  stop in Dieppe, a few kilometres down the road, and stay with Warmshowers host Claude and his family; or ride the fifty-odd kilometres into Sackville against headwinds that Environment Canada claimed were 30km/h gusting 50km/h, with the exception of the Tantramar Marsh where gusts of 70km/h would be on-going into the evening.  Awesome.  Had it been anywhere else, I would have chosen option (1), but it was Friday and the thought of the Saturday morning Sackville farmers’ market caused me too much excitement.  I gave Claude a call with my regrets, figured that failing to cover 50km in the four hours of daylight left was next to impossible.  A brief chat with my old roommate, Tim, confirmed a spot to sleep for the night, and off I went into the wind.  The ride out of downtown Moncton through Dieppe and Memramcook is certainly familiar, but it was neat to do it in such a context.  As it turns out, Claude pulled up beside me I his car as I rode near his house (note once again that, for whatever reason, it would seem that Nancy and I are rather recognizable laden with panniers and grime).  Though he was sad to hear I would not be at his family’s dinner table that evening, he wished me luck and we made plans to meet up and chat about my trip in the following weeks as he was eager to hear about it. 

                While I might have had a few close calls of unexpected wind gusts with cars alongside, the going was not as slow as expected and I rolled up to Sackville’s one downtown traffic light before suppertime.  The weird familiarity of turning onto Weldon Street, lifting my bike onto the front porch, and taking off my shoes in the doorway of the house that’s been a home on and off for the past couple of years did not escape me, but, well, it was a pretty swell (read: totally awesome) feeling.  I promptly promised my body and Nancy several days of independent living and started thinking about next stops:  the shower, a friend’s house for dinner, a swim in Silver Lake, the stage at Convocation Hall, and whatever might happen to be waiting for me further down the road.

Made it just in time!  Arrived in Sackville, NB on Friday, April 19th after two months and a few days of feeling at home on the road.

Pennfield to Hampton

With early birthday wishes exchanged, stomach full of hearty breakfast, and the insistence of Horace to give me a lift in the truck to the highway on-ramp (he certainly is stubborn with a twinkle in his eye!), I thanked the Youngs for their generosity and continued down the TransCanada.  While the tailwinds of the day before were not to be matched, the ride into Saint John was satisfyingly mellow and a pedestrian’s directions as to how to avoid the construction mess of the main bridge had me navigate no problem.  I stopped to eat some lunch and reached the highway exit for Hampton mid-afternoon.  Warmshowers member Norm had said he and his wife, Mary Beth, would be happy to host me for the night there. 

Saint John, NB

  Though my legs were tired, I was tempted to take advantage of the remaining daylight hours and good weather.  I decided to go into town, check my email with the directions to Norm’s house, and look at other options that might be further down the road in terms of places to stop.  As luck, chance, divine powers, and energies of the universe would have it, I was in the Tim Hortons searching for a wall plug to turn on my netbook when a friendly-looking chap walked over, extended his hand, and told me I had almost made It to the right place.  Inconspicuous, I am not.  A seasoned bicycle adventurer himself, Norm had seen Nancy parked outside and come in looking for a bedraggled internet-seeker.  

When this starts to look appealing it is probably time to pull off the road for the night...

I figured that if that was not a sign it was time to call it a day, I wasn’t sure what was.  I took directions to his house and, boy, am I glad I did.  The three of us had a great evening of tasty food, swapping bicycle and non-bicycle-related stories, and I got some great tips for the roads in the area.  

Machias to Pennfield

Following some leftover quiche for breakfast (delicious), Nancy and I went into East Machias with Maria as I was intrigued to see the fish hatchery where she works.  I got the grand tour, we said our “see you sometime eventually soon”’s, and I headed off on two wheels to the northeast.   Thanks for a lovely visit, Maria!

                Thanks to the advice of Rachel, my Warmshowers host in Freeport, I found myself on some lovely cycling roads even though I was sad to leave the coastal route.  There were stunning views and few cars along the road laden with blueberry fields that took me towards Calais.  I had been in touch with some Warmshowers folks in the area, but the wind direction and glorious sunshine had me decide to give them a call mid-day as I passed the turn-off to their place and wanted to keep going. 

I crossed the US-Canada border around two o’clock (which then became three thanks to the time change) and, with a few funny looks from the border official when I tried to explain where I had come from, I was allowed back into the homeland no problem.  Exciting!  Realizing that the last 20 miles to the border had been done mostly on adrenaline in my gusto to get “home”, I promptly turned into the Tim Hortons in St Stephen and, as any good Canadian might do in such times, scarfed down a doughnut.  And then two more. And then another.  OK, there was no fourth one, but I did seriously consider it. 

                My “plan” was to get as far as possible thanks to the lovely strong winds from the north east that kicked in as a tailwind as I left St Stephens in the direction of Saint John.  The TransCanada had a giant shoulder, giant gradual hills, little traffic, and plenty of trees.  While it might have been more varied terrain and scenery if I had chosen to weave through the secondary roads, my experience with road upkeep in rural New Brunswick (generally lacking) and possession of a provincial map showing the roads (also lacking) left me more than content to feel the sunshine on my face, the wind at my back, and my thoughts to wander about. 

                The extensive wildlife fencing adjacent the highway and the spacing of towns had me thinking that I should not wait until dark before deciding where to pitch my tent for the night.  Although it was still fairly early in the evening, I decided to ride into St George (the biggest town according to my USA map shy of Saint John) and suss out the situation.  A friendly-looking diner called my name as I rode off the highway exit and, as it turns out, the people inside were beyond friendly themselves.  In my quest for a safe place to camp for the evening, I wound up chatting with the Youngs who, having known me only for a few minutes, invited me to stay in their home for the night as they left the restaurant.  I was happy to accept and, directions in hand, said I would give them a call once I had finished eating and was heading over.  The next hour entailed a tasty supper, the specialty of peanut butter pie, and the overwhelming kindness of the waitress also offering me a place to sleep and informing me that another family who had been in the restaurant had paid for my meal.  Then, to top it off, Horace Young showed up to give me a lift back to his house to avoid me having to bike over.

                To say that I was overwhelmed by the kindness of that day would be an understatement.  Jackie and Horace immediately made me feel at home and I enjoyed a relaxing evening of television-watching, a tour of their beautiful property and Horace’s fish pond, and even got to meet some family and friends who dropped in.  Also, Horace and I were tickled to learn that we share the same birthday!  While America has certainly been good to me, it is nice to be back on this side of the border and I could not have imagined a warmer welcome.

With Horace and Jackie, a big-hearted couple who took me into their home in Pennfield, NB

Bar Harbo(u)r to Machias

Nancy and I had some quality bonding time on Sass’s porch in the morning before heading out.  I switched out the leaky tube, patched a few outstanding ones, cleaned off some dirt, and oiled up some squeaky parts while listening to music in the sunshine.  While changing a flat by the side of the road is not actually that problematic most of the time, there is a certain luxury to being able to take the time and be overly meticulous.  I  even got to pull out a whack of small pointy things from my tires that had not yet made their way into a tube but might cause problems at some point.  Close to the noon hour, Sass and I loaded Nancy and my gear into her car and, to the tune of some excellent stories from my Bar Harbour host, drove back towards Ellsworth.

Just grand!

                The ride eastward was enjoyable but certainly slow going, especially given my leisurely start time.  Lots of snack breaks, pondering my good fortune of how the previous 24 hours had turned out, and stops to look at the view meant that I was surprised (yet equally not surprised) when it got to be late afternoon and I was still quite far from Machias, home of my friend Maria and my destination for the evening.  I was in Four Corners, debating trying to catch a motorized-vehicle lift in that direction, and decided to give Maria a call to touch base anyhow.  At the mere mention of having reached my ultra-happy-biking-quota for the day, she offered to come get me under the pretence of needing to get groceries.  I was happy to accept and hung around the candy and sticker machines in the warm supermarket until I saw her hop out of a truck. 

                I hadn't seen Maria for a couple of years, but we knew each other from my first years at university where she was just finishing up her degree.  It was wonderful to catch up, make some quiche and blueberry dessert, and just hang out  in her house and talk about adventures yet to come.

Maria holding our masterpiece!

Our attempt at food-blog-style photography

Belfast to Bar Harbo(u)r

Just as I am starting to fall into thinking in terms of days left, miles to cover, and the shortest route home, some wagging finger seems to magically appear telling me that this is no way to go about spending my time.  So, as I ate breakfast and said farewell to Spencer and his housemates, I headed off towards to Belfast Food Co-op.  Joanna and Steve in Durham had expressed that this was a must-do activity, so I was sure to time my departure so it would be open when I rode into the main part of town.  I found all sorts of treasures and replenished my panniers before riding over the bridge out of town.

Belfast Co-op treats

While I had planned to bypass the well-known Acadia Park on this trip and take a more direct route to the home of a CouchSurfing host in Cherryfield, the sunshine and desire to shake things up made me phone with regrets and head instead towards Ellsworth, the 'gateway' towards Bar Harbour, Mt Desert, and the park.  I must say that the ride into Ellsworth was nothing if not slow-paced and poor Nancy must have thought I was literally dragging my feet.  It was just one of those days and, after going through Ellsworth and heading towards Bar Harbour, I was starting to question if I would even get any daylight hours in the park itself once I made it there.  Relief might be the best way to describe the feeling when I realized that my back tire was suddenly failing to hold air and, well, my back-of-head thoughts of hitch-hiking turned into a perfect opportunity.  A friendly soul in a big van pulled over and, laughing and shaking his head (he has a similar-aged daughter of his own), he helped me load up my gear.

Beautiful scenery

I think that the snails were using the passing lane to go around Nancy and me.

There was no second guessing my decision when I was treated to a guided tour of the area, the gorgeous views of the park in the late afternoon, an explanation of services available around town, and several leads of places I might enjoy camping for the night.  This was the sort of coincidence and experience that I live for on this trip.  I was dropped off in Bar Harbour after our many detours, with a promise to phone if I was left without a safe spot for the night, and Nancy and I walked around town a bit.  I chatted with a few people, had a snack, and decided to have a go at finding an alternative to the obvious choice of fixing the flat tire and cycling to the campground open in the middle of the park.  I happened to walk past a beautiful library building with an 'Author Reading Tonight' sign outside and wandered in, as casually and inconspicuously as one can when wearing noisy cycling shoes and a bright red reflective jacket.  As it turned out, the library was not actually open at the moment, rather some lovely ladies were preparing for a volunteer reception before the author event.  Without outlining every great moment that ensued as you, the reader, fall asleep at the screen, I will just say that I sure am glad to have drifted in that door.  I was warmly greeted, given some grapes to wash as my "volunteer service", handed a phone with a lady named Sass at the other end who offered me a bed to sleep in, and spent a good hour getting to chat with all sorts of people.

I was starting to wonder if what started out as a slightly dreary day could actually get any better, but when I did meet the mysterious Sass it was confirmed that, yes, it could.  We headed up to her house and I got to learn all sorts of things about life in Bar Harbour, Maine, travelling, word puzzles, and, well, the list goes on.  I even got to meet her brother, who lived next door, and Sass made some tasty dinner before I crashed contentedly into the bed in her spare room.

All in all, the day was a prime example of not ignoring a gut feeling, the beauty of throwing plans out the window, and the fact that libraries are full of goodness.  Thanks to everyone who brightened my day south of Ellsworth!

Freeport to Belfast

When the topic of blueberries and cultivation in Maine came up at dinner the night before, Rachel had mentioned that blueberry pancakes for breakfast might be on the table, so to speak.  When I smelled them in the morning, I could hardly contain my excitement.  They were delicious and, after some last-minute bike geek chat in the garage looking at her various noble steeds, I headed off into the sunshine.  I had a second breakfast in Wiscasset of a peanut butter and honey sandwich Rachel had packed for me and enjoyed the company of several people in the vicinity.  I then managed to prolong this second breakfast by getting a large amount of hot chocolate and deciding that I had to drink it then and there to avoid risk of spillage.  A great morning stop.

Unfortunately they weren't open to go inside, but perhaps the mystery of the Bikeman is best

Morning hot chocolate and sandwich stop

The road was great riding when I finally did continue on my way, with lots of shoulder, not much traffic, and plenty of coastal nooks and inlets.  I did, however, note that my long break in the sunshine meant that even when it started to rain I really did need to keep on riding if I wanted to make it to Belfast in the daylight.  When rain turned to hail, I figured that there was no good place for shelter, so I put on all of the reflective gear I had with me and kept going.  After a good 15-20 minutes of this, I rode a few dozen metres past a dark building that said 'Pub', saw the giant hill looming ahead, and turned back to see if the front door was open.  Indistinguishable from a drowned rat, I asked if they had coffee, gave a big smile to the three people inside, and made sure Nancy had a spot out of the elements before sitting down.  I nursed my cup of sugar-laden coffee for nearly an hour while looking at maps, making a few phone calls, and talking to the folks around.  When the hail turned to raindrops, I figured it was time to be on my way and conquer the hill.  Thanks to the caffeine (a shock to body that is not used to coffee, especially at 3pm), the sugar, the low temperature, and the whole ridiculousness of the situation, the hill was not so big after all and I trudged along contentedly.  At one point, I passed a big outdoor store and went inside to "look around" aka drool over their gear, regain feeling in my soggy toes, and chat about routes with the bicycle folks.  If the retail in the area is any indication, Maine certainly knows how to have good fun recreating in the outdoors!

The last few dozen miles to Spencer's, my Warmshowers host for the evening, turned out to be filled with intermittent hail (thank goodness for reflective vests and solid helmets to deflect falling objects), patches of glorious sunshine, and deafening rain.  It certainly suited my mood for the day as, between bouts of squinting through precipitation to try and stay safe and moving on the road, I was flip-flopping between chomping at the bit to get home by the weekend and wholeheartedly savouring the people and places I came across throughout the day.  How's that for philosophizing?

Check out those blue skies and hail clouds.  Nancy certainly was decked out in raingear for the day.

After some very slow uphills and gleeful downhills between Camden and the green building just shy of Belfast that indicated a turn in Spencer's directions, I was happy to turn off of Route 1 and find the house address.  While I had thought I might wind up arriving in the dark thanks to my mood- and weather-spurred efforts of cycling procrastination, there wound up being daylight to spare.  Nancy was quickly set up for the night in the shed and I was lucky enough to arrive in time to have supper with Spencer and his housemates.  They were all wonderful cooks and, showing up with only a first-hand weather report from the day and an extra set of dishwashing hands, I was immediately made to feel comfortable in their beautiful home.  An evening of conversation about the joys (and challenges) of technology, travel, bicycles, and all sorts of coastal lore ensued, and I went to sleep feeling excited for the days of bicycling to follow as I near the end of this trip.

Durham to Freeport, Maine

Well rested and well fed (panniers laden with tasty Mexican dinner leftovers), I headed out from Joanna and Steve's house in Durham in the direction of Maine, my final state before heading back into Canada.  Though a bit chilly, the clouds brought no rain and it was a lovely day of riding thanks in part to the scarf wrapped firmly around my ears for frostbite prevention.  I crossed the state line just near South Berwick and, while it may sound silly, I was pleased to see a large, friendly 'Welcome to Maine' sign to greet me.

 For one of the first times this trip, I found myself looking forward to getting back to Sackville.  This was likely due to the fact that, while in Durham, I had lots of time to look at my route for the next few days and realized that home was only about a week away.  Much closer than I had thought based on my mental map.  I could feel myself getting into that 'horse headed back to the barn' mentality, and it certainly surprised me as it came out of nowhere!  I had a morning hot chocolate stop (see photo) and lunch was a bounty of food found deep in my panniers eaten in a Subway parking lot (riding into the downtown of Portland seemed daunting based on traffic). I was happy to just ride along and ponder all the way to Freeport.

The one thing on my to-do list for the trip (decided while I was watching the Food Network with my brothers at some point in Vancouver before departing) was to eat at a place featured on this show as it is central to my 'knowledge' and ideas about American cuisine.  Anyhow, I had almost forgotten, but luckily the Maine Diner had a big sign to remind me and, though I wasn't hungry, the jar of hot chocolate certainly warmed me up mid-morning!

Freeport certainly surprised me as I rode into town.  While I didn't stop as it was getting late in the evening and I was excited to meet Warmshowers host Rachel and her family, I didn't know anything about the town beforehand and simply gawked at this weird outdoorsy-esque, classy-ski-resort-resembling, yuppie-friendly downtown area that emerged off of the coastal scenic Route 1.  I kind of felt like I had been teleported to  Whistler Village as well-dressed families walked the streets adjacent signs for L.L. Bean, Patagonia, North Face, and several nice looking chalet-decor-style restaurants with outdoor patio heaters.  OK, I realize that may all sound overly-hyphenated and cynical, but it was really just a funny impression, especially at the end of an 80 mile day.  The road out to Rachel's house was beautiful, and it was made all the more enjoyable by a friendly man who was commuting home and glad for some companionship.  We talked about the joys of cycling, the route I had to look forward to the following day, and how much he loved the coast of Maine.  I couldn't have asked for a better way to end the day's ride.

I was warmly welcomed into the Farrington household and, after cleaning up and deep apologies for my near-dark arrival, I got to spend the evening enjoying delicious food and getting to know Rachel, Pete, and Ellie.  Each with their own passions, it was really neat to learn about Rachel's many cycing adventures, Pete's race-walking and love of SAG-ing (certainly a sport in itself), and Ellie's dancing, as well as their pursuits as a family.  Rachel also had some great route advice for the rest of my riding in Maine as well as other gems I might want to see in the future.  Thanks for a great stay!