I ate a pizza pocket I bought last night for breakfast, got my things together, and left a note for my host who was not yet awake, before leaving around 8. I had a turn of luck, when later in the morning I saw that a host who had previously turned me down since her husband was away, changed her mind and decided she could host me after all so I wouldn't have to camp. Though this meant I was going further than I thought starting the day. The twenty miles to get back from Bar Harbor to Ellsworth were almost entirely over the same ground I had gone a couple days ago. I was on highway 1 basically all the rest of the day. It was busy, but at least had a nice, wide shoulder. It was all inland to Orland, with not much to see, over a cool bridge to Verona Island, and then with seemingly unending antique and junk stores along the highway and only fleeting glimpses of the ocean here and there through the trees until Belfast. On the way there I got passed by several cyclists, and in talking to one I learned they were on a supported tour, the MS ride going out to Seattle.
At Belfast I messed up. I saw a sign for the MS ride indicating they should turn, and I should have followed it myself. I stayed on 1, when I really should have gotten off it. I crossed over a bridge where I could see the beautiful harbor below, with what was clearly a bike and walking bridge I should have been on, but had no opportunity to stop to look or take pictures. And after the bridge all shoulder disappeared and traffic got unpleasant. I felt like I messed up so much in fact that I got off as soon as possible and backtracked all the way through Belfast so that I could get back to the harbor to get the view. Several people there asked about my tour. I had one man on the boardwalk ask me where all the other cyclists were going, as if as a clearly unaffiliated cyclist I should just know what these others were up to. ...Which I did, but only because I had talked to them. I saw the rest of the MS riders camped out at a park along the waterfront there in Belfast, apparently at the end of their day.
It was more highway 1 after that. ...And somewhere I think around Newport, where I planned to camp, that the shoulder suddenly went from being great to crumbled or non-existent. And of course this is right as I'm hitting rush hour traffic too. It was not fun, especially climbing up hills where I was going very slow and traffic couldn't see around corners to be able pass. It felt a lot like highway 1 on the west coast...just with much less to see for the trouble. Drivers were at least generally understanding. But I still felt very uncomfortable and had my adrenaline up, pushing myself to get to the end.
I finally reached Camden. ...And then had to climb up from there on the country road my host lives on. You know when you take a road that is called something "Heights" that you are in for a climb. But then at last I arrived. I was worried for a moment, not having data to check, whether I had in fact made it or not. But she quickly came out and confirmed I had indeed. I got my much needed shower, and plenty of good food (and beer). I was only her second guest, and first without her husband (who was the one who signed up for the site). And while they had done some touring around Europe, they had never done much long distance, self-supported touring or used Warmshowers themselves. So I got to be reminded, as I have not been much this trip, that not everyone finds my lifestyle normal. Probably a good reminder to have now and then.
I have a loft all to myself over the garage tonight. It's nice. I've got to enjoy some free time lounging here on my lonesome, talking to Rachael for most of it. But now, I really must sleep.
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