Yet here I am, having declined any other alternative, and ventured out into the cold and rain this morning to bike 70 miles to get here to Bar Harbor today, more than a 1000 miles in total since leaving home. Here I am. Every time that Spring rolls around I try to psyche myself up for adventure, and every time I have to drag myself out the door, kicking and screaming. Yet here I am. Because I know that once I do get out that door, I'll have the time of my life. But also, I do it to remind myself that I can defy my nature, that I can be someone else. Those things about me are all true. And yet, this version of me is also true, the one who rides in the rain, on often hairy highways, to arrive at the houses of strangers to chat and spend the night. Because I don't have to be adventurous to have adventures on a tour; once I am out the door, the adventures have me, and I am just along for the ride.
It was a good day. I laid in better listening to the rain and dreading it. My host provided cereal and egg sandwiches for breakfast and questioned whether I really wanted to go out in it. She could let me stay another day, or also drive me all the way to Elsworth, where she works, leaving me only 20 miles to bike. I told her thank you, but no, that I had best bike it. She gave me cheese, bread, and granola to take with me for lunch. I geared up, walked my bike through the grass to avoid the mucky puddles that filled their dirt drive, and then set off.
I followed US bicycle route 1 to get to Bangor, which was mostly decent, though with too many trucks and no shoulder for my taste. And from there it was 1A and then 3 all the way to Mt Desert Island. So at least there was no minimal navigation through the rain, especially after Bangor. Once I was decently wet, the rain mostly stopped for a time in the morning. It was actually fair riding for a time. Then it started again not too heavy. And then mostly stopped again. I kept looking for a place to stop under some shelter, off the highway, to eat and rest from hills, but kept not seeing any. I finally took a brief respite at some odd rundown car building to shove a bag of orange slices I bought the day before into my mouth. Shortly after I reached Elsworth, where traffic was awful and shoulder gone, and I may have blundered and nearly killed myself but let's not talk about that. I pulled off at a gas station, used the bathroom, bought some bars for tomorrow, and ate my bread and cheese. The lady at the counter wished me to stay dry. ...Of course on the way to the island it started raining fairly heavily right after that.
It stopped for a last time I believe right around the time I arrived. People told me it would be beautiful. And it was, even in the misty, gray. Construction (resulting in an ugly one lane I wanted nothing to do with) kept me from going on 3 along the coast and forced me to go more inland. There was a little less to see, but still pretty. Once back on 3 at Hulls Cove it was a little dicey into Bar Harbor with no real shoulder, but I made my way okay. I arrived in advance of my host and took a little detour to see a shore walking path, before coming back to meet her.
She's rather exceptional. After I got a much needed shower, we talked politics openly, discussed previous tours and future plans (from stealth camping in Lowe's gazebos in Canada to a 140 mile day in the Texas desert because of nowhere to stop, and talk of biking south-east Asia or settling in New Delhi), ate cheap food (a decent pasta dish consumed out of unusual containers on account of her and her roommates soon to be moving) and drank expensive beer (and she taught me how to open beer bottles with a spoon). It was a grand time. I of course took the chance in between to do laundry and clean up a very dirty Bree.
And tomorrow? Acadia.
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