Day 46 - Bar Harbor to Bangor, ME (September 17)

Warning: This is NOT a joke. This post contains shocking material.

Later on in the post, I describe being hit by a truck while riding. I'm okay, but my back tire is damaged - there are multiple fractures where the spokes attach to the tire...and I have a few scrapes and bruises.

So anyway...The days started nicely with a ride on Acadia National Park's Carriage Roads (no cars allowed!).

The carriage roads wound up and around mountains, under nearby roads, over roads, and passed by mountain lakes. A very enjoyable journey.

This is the view from Jordan Pond's tea room and restaurant.

After Bar Harbor, I headed north to Ellsworth, where I passed this sign for FamilyBibleChuch.com. Either intentionally or unintentionally, the sign keeps with the current political season when it declares, "God Loves You...and He Approves This Message." If only Bob Dole were running, he might say a few words about God's approval of using Viagra.

I stopped at the Maine Grind to check some email, upload some photos, and get a bite to eat. I stopped here two days ago when I was heading to Acadia National Park. It was a nice place to hide from the rain.

After stopping to mail some junk back home, I found myself in Bangor.

End of the Road.

Don't read if you don't like stories about cars hitting bikes.

I left Bangor and headed west on Highway 2. The road had a narrow or non-existent shoulder. It was commute hour. I was heading into the sun. Stopping in Hermon, I got some gatorade and water at the local store.

Continuing on, the road remained shoulderless. I climbed a hill I would later find out was called Miller Hill. Speed limit 45. Two lanes - one passing, one for slower traffic. Initially traffic stayed in the passing lane, but the hill was long. So eventually, the traffic was riding two-by-two up the hill. As I just got to the place were the sun shined right into one's eyes, I was hit by a pickup truck. I was flung off of my bike and into the bushes on the side of the road. The side of the road was a hillside that went uphill. So I didn't get flung down a cliff. The wind was knocked out of me and I was momentarily shocked.

The driver of the truck stopped and came over to see if I was okay. Another guy wearing yellow reflective clothing waved traffic around. I asked him not to risk his life if he didn't need to. I said this because he was standing in the same spot where I was hit and I didn't think drivers could see him.

Shortly thereafter the commander of the Hermon Volunteer Rescue and First Aid Squad arrived and then shortly after that the ambulance arrived (also owned by the local emergency group). Although I did not know it at the time, I didn't have any large gashes. I had been flung off my bike and I had some sore spots and bruises. Because I thought that I had a gash on my rear and because I had been hit by a truck, I decided it was best to go to the Eastern Maine Medical Center emergency room.

While at the ER, I saw my rear in the mirror and was shocked that I only had an abrasion across it. I had only bruises, some srapes, and an abrasion across my rear. Basically, I was very fortunate that I wasn't hurt any worse.

The head of the Hermon rescue squad later brought my bike and bags to me and he drove me to the Days Inn where I spent the night. I was picked up my cousin the next day.

This is a picture of my torn shorts and riding shorts.

Here is the local news story and video. I was very lucky indeed. The gentlemen in green was driving the truck that hit me. The guy in the grey sweatshirt is the head of Hermon rescue. Later on you meet the Sheriff.

Day 46 - Blackwoods to Bangor -71 Miles

Day 45 - Acadia National Park (September 16)

It is cold after a storm front.

I decided to cycle to the top of the mountain, Cadillac Mountain (to the right), in the background of this photo to try to see the sunrise. I was a few minutes late, but it was nice to see the early morning sun and to get up early. It was really cold up there. I had to ride in that cold for at least 20 minutes as I descended the mountain. When I got into Bar Harbor, I tried to look for a sunny place to warm up. It was much warmer in town. I sat and watched a cruise ship come into port. It took me almost 20 minutes before my hands were warm enough to operate a zipper.

After warming up, I found a place to eat and got ready for the rest of my day (in other words, I did my laundry).

I then caught the Ferry to Schoddic Point. Where I discussed politics with a Republican from Massachussetts. We both agreed that the nation seemed to collectively holding its breath until Bush II leaves office.

The ride to Schoddic Point was glorious. Nice weather. Sun as far as the eye could see. It was nice. A two-lane one-way road. I took up an entire lane.

At Schoddic Point, I convinced myself that Maine has surfing potential. The problem is that most of the coastline consists of shelf. The land just ends at the water and there is nothing to make a wave break except the shoreline. The land just drops right off into the water so there is no sloping beach slowly getting deeper into the ocean.

These type of cliffs are typical. They just drop right off into the ocean which doesn't make for good surfing conditions.

Bar Harbor is a popular place for cruise ships to stop.

On a hike later on, I noticed these strange mushrooms.

View from the top of the Beehive.

View of Sand Beach from the Beehive.

Beehive. You can hike straight up the side of this mountain. The National Park Service has place ladder rungs into the cliff. Not for those who are afraid of heights.

Beehive from afar. The ladder rungs are attached to the side of this mountain.

Almost to my campground and I passed by this calm lake. No moose in sight. Darn!

This day, I met a British cycle tourist, Gavin Crump, who was just finishing his 3,000-mile ride from Florida following Adventure Cycling's Atlantic Coast Route (although his website says the southern tier - from Florida to San Diego - he changed his mind when he found out how hot it would be in Texas and the west). Along the way, he raised 4,000 pounds (almost 8,000 dollars) for an organization that supports those with Parkinson's Disease. He's British and lives south of London. When I first met Gavin, he was just riding into Bar Harbor. It was the end of his trip.

We chatted for a while, along the way finding out that we had a lot in common: a father with Parkinson's, we have worked as environmental consultants, and we both cycle tour. Later on, we had drinks and got a bite to eat. Unfortunately, it was too calm that night because it was Sunday, but it was nice to actually stop and swap adventure stories with another touring cyclist.

Acadia National Park - 42 Miles

Day 44 - Bucksport to Bar Harbor (September 15)

A day riding in the rain is...cold. Very cold.

Stories I heard along the way (maybe not entirely well developed stories, but stories none the less).

The guy who runs the laundromat had a lot to tell me. For example, his Dad used to live in San Francisco. Maybe Vallejo, I keep meeting people formerly from Vallejo. Why Vallejo?

His father, was a long distance athlete. Someone who I could appreciate. He first crossed the country in a wheel-barrow race. I guess he won, because he ended up in Maine. I have nothing about Maine. In fact, I've really enjoyed my visit here, but I'm not sure I would want to be here during the winter.

When he got to Maine, he began to race. In six-day running races. This is similar to the six-day cycling races that they held in the late 1800s, except, with wheelbarrows...and no bikes.

Story #2: Laundromat Stories, Part 2. I guess the owner of the laundromat was complimenting me about my good laundromat etiquette. He told me about many people who came in the rain or snow and dried their...something. Laundry, I guess. When it really snows in Maine, sometimes, someone just wants to warm up and get out of their wet clothes. And at other times, it rains and then the customers also use the laundromat. But there is also a guy who just wants to clean his boots. The problem is that he tends to forget the washing part and every now and then, the laundromat owner gets clean out the mud and grease. It is a mystery who is cleaning his boots. It's only a small town, the town of Bucksport, but he still can't figure out who's doing it. This boot cleaner didn't clean his (or her) boots at the same time each day. So the mystery continues...who is the dirty boot cleaner who uses the Bucksports laundromat?

Story #3. Wait for it.

Day 44 - Tales of Nothing

Day 44 - Bucksport to Bar Harbor - 44 Miles