Bar Harbor

We thanked Don and the extended family at the Northport mansion and set about rejoining the route as we rode to Belfast, Maine. In a beautiful piece of bike travel serendipity it was Saturday morning and the local farmer's market was on. My food-dar must have been malfunctioning because it was Rach who spotted this one. There was an embarrassment of riches here and we picked out a variety of treats from the indoor stalls. They even had a pianist on a full piano to set the mood! My most memorable vendor was a gentleman named Kurt who makes cheese in a homemade curing cave. If you like, read more about him here: Kurt the cheese man

Rach and I exited town on the pedestrian bridge over the Passagassawakeag River. (That was a copy and paste job, no way I actually knew how to spell it.) As we paused to take a photo of the waterfront a few scant rain jobs began to fall. Uh oh, time to go. We largely pedaled on Highway 1 the rest of the day. Junk shops, antique stores, lobster restaurants, firewood for sale, boatyards, campground, cottages, and motels line the route. It's definitely vacation country. The shoulder was in poor condition with a regular "Bump!" about every 12 feet jarring your innards. This continued for miles and was a major test of patience.

My mental state was becoming viscous as we entered the small town of Surry for a food break. They had a lovely country store and I returned to normalcy at the picnic tables out front. I took a bunch of spare pennies and spelled out "HELP" on the table and left it behind. Rach thought we might see a pickup truck pull up in a few miles to rescue me. As we entered the final stretch toward the Hadley Point campground the sky turned traitorous. It began to rain and we started to push hard. It's funny what energy you discover when the threat of getting soaked to the bone arises. Thankfully Highway 3 was a long gradual downhill and we arrived with only a mild moistening. Overnight, the rain gathered force and fury and pelted down on the rainfly, yearning and thirsting for dry campers to drench. The tent held fast and Rach and I both agreed that "We love tent."

Today was for resting and celebrating the conclusion of the first leg of our trip. The Park Service operates a wonderful series of bus routes here to visit Acadia National Park and we were the very first customers of the year for our driver as he picked us up right in the campground next to the pool. (Good thing we didn't get here any faster, the bus service only began this weekend.) Rach and I visited the town of Bar Harbor which was charming and picturesque. Later we took another bus along the coast to the "Thunder Hole", a natural blow hole. Plenty of rocks to clamber on here and we spent an incredibly peaceful time next to the water watching the ocean pulse in and out, tousling the sea grass and lulling us with the rhythmic whoosh of the sea.

For lunch we hopped on the bus to the Jordan House for stew and popovers. Popovers are a light, flaky pastry that looks like a muffin but is airy inside. It was served with butter and jam and was very tasty. We took a short stroll along Jordan Pond and rested on a rock overlooking the still, clear water. The free bus took us back to our campground in the afternoon and I'm typing now from a small, corner desk in the pine-clad walls of the laundromat building. One leg down, only crossing the whole country to go. Thanks for reading.

Belfast harbor

Penobscot Narrows bridge

Chilly on the beach in Maine

At the harbor in Bar Harbor

Rach had just eaten a donut here

Domingo

Acadia National Park

Mike saying goodbye to the Atlantic Ocean

This gull ate a crab whole. Brutal.

Jordan Pond

Popovers are good