Day 55 (27 Sep 09) Rockport to Bar Harbor 78 miles
On our last day, we woke to find that, despite all forecasts, we were lucky - the forecasted rain hadn't started. Of course, immediately upon mounting our bikes in the parking lot of the hotel in Rockport (our second stay in a place called Rockport and a near match to a third, Brockport), the rain started, gently at first and then with vigor. The forecast promised an inch of rain (the residual of the same storm that inundated Atlanta). This could be an epic day, but Bev saves us by carrying most of our gear. We just have emergency gear, spare tires, tubes, tools, extra clothing.
So we begin with a grade 1 mist (according to the scale developed on day 2 [a long time ago!], Sequim to Anacortes, WA). In anticipation of heavier precipitation, we put on the rain gear and pedal with thoughts swirling in our heads as the wind and rain swirl in our faces.
The ride itself proved a repetition of the previous day - Maine is a series of low hills, which on the back roads we were taking, meant an uphill, often with a punishing grade thrown in, followed by a short steep descent, which was then instantly and interminably repeated. As we rode the first 40 miles in this fashion, the rain increased, maximizing(?) our riding pleasure. Then, as we rode through Searsport ME, two things happened that provided us with a joint epiphany. Jim picked up a glass fragment from the wet pavement and we change our final flat tire. The spokes on his rear wheel have gone three days without a break (after riding 32 days and nearly 2500 miles with one or more broken spokes); what’s another flat tire seen in that context? As we were stopped beside the road in the rain to fix it, it occurred to us that US 1, which we had ridden for the last few miles, would have much gentler grades and a much more direct route for the remainder of our ride than the route we were on. In short, we decided to utilize "the Wally Option": riding Highway 1 to the finish as opposed to the back routes on our map, thereby not only cutting out the punishing grades of the back roads but providing the added bonus of cutting 10 miles off our total ride. The genius of this decision was proven shortly thereafter, in that after the next 20 miles (on US 1), we outran the storm front, and the rain stopped. Of course, the added bonus was that the remainder of our ride also had manageable uphills. While some may castigate us as shirkers for this decision, we revel in our sagacity and ingenuity in the face of adversity.
We stop for lunch in Ellsworth. Hoping for something and someplace warm, we end up using the outdoor tables of a closed-on-Sunday coffee shop. Must have been a popular place, either that or we attracted interested customers. At least a dozen people tried the door, only to find it locked; should have been open with that many potential customers. They never said anything to us; wonder why?. By the time we finished, Toby was cold (a novelty) and the rain had stopped. The sky remained cloud-filled, but without rain.
When we finally see the road sign for Bar Harbor, it feels so surreal; hard to define. This has been a goal for 52 days of riding and now its here. I (Leonard) feel a thankfulness for the safe 4,200 miles in dealing with traffic, bees, grasshopper sex, broken spokes, wet cement, a visit to a Canadian emergency room, brutal headwinds, flats, customs, blow out, sand on sharp corners, blind curves, downhill plunges on bikes that weigh half as much as we do, suspicious food, RVs pulling BOTH an SUV and a boat trailer, pot holes, gravel/dirt roads. There could have been disasters, but there were none.
Bar Harbor is loaded with tourists’ shops and cruise boat people. I feel like I just landed on another planet, yet at one point in our journey, I observed that we must have looked like space invaders with wrap-around glasses hiding our eyes, rear view mirrors attached, streamlined helmets and body hugging, brightly colored spandex clothing.
We end with a dinner and wine at the Havana restaurant, but somehow the ending seems incomplete. Maybe because my thoughts are still jumbled.
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