Thursday, June 21, 2012

Ellsworth  June 19

This is such a poetic landscape. No wonder the creative flock to this state. Everywhere the land presents evocative pictures. The flowers, the trees, the rocky coast, the sweeping field to the ocean and myriad bays and rivers. Artists, like the landscape itself, hunker down in the winter readying themselves to burst upon the world with new creations when the warming sun moves northward.

Geesh, Smith, get over yourself.  Alright, I’ll stop rhapsodizing about Maine and just get on with it.

Blueberries, like blackberries, salivate my mouth and make my heart go pitter-pat. Muffins, pies, scones, bars, pancakes, tarts, slumps, sodas and even beer, oh the wonderful, delicious things you can make from them. I’m in heaven.

 I’m frustrated daily by the gagillion blackberry bushes I’m passing, their flowers in full bloom.  Their fruits are more than a month away but, alas, I won’t be around to blacken my hands and mouth with their wild sweetness.  The same thing happened when I rode through Oregon two years ago—too early.

My belief is that when you see a sign for Good Karma Farm you better check the place out just in case you need a big dose of the good stuff on down the road.

So, down the road I went and soon was being gawked at by more than 20 alpacas. When cows look at you, you know there ain’t nothing going on in their blocky heads. It’s something else when an alpaca lifts its head from grazing to give you the once over. The ears sit up alert, the eyes are bright, the face is soft and kind, and with its long neck the alpaca achieves something of a regal, intelligent stature. “Hello. Who are you?” they seem to be saying with interest. Cows, on the other hand, simply look like they’re ready to be whacked on the head, which, of course, they are.

Good Karma Farm is a full-time working farm in Belfast on the coast of Maine.  They raise alpacas for fiber and breeding stock and spin their own yarn right there on the farm.  Good Karma is also the home of Carrabassett Soap Company, now in its 14th year of soapmaking.   
I walked into an old dairy barn, past a large tub of cheeping chicks and into a small store with a rainbow of skeins on a cubby-holed wall. Josh, who moved from Chicago last year to work at Good Karma, explained that the skeins were a mixture of alpaca and sheep wool. “When woven into something to wear pure alpaca wool doesn’t hold its shape well over time, so we mix it with sheep wool in varying percentages so the things we knit will hold their shape better.”
He took me on a tour of the fiber processing operation, showing me how the fiber is cleaned, straightened, dyed and twisted into skeins. Josh creates many of the knitted garments that were on sale in the small store.
All of the soap is made in small 120 lb batches using natural oils and scents.  Once the soap is cut, it is left to cure for a minimum of 5 weeks.  The proper cure time ensures that the soap will be gentle to the skin and very long-lasting, explained Amy Grant, who with her husband Jim own the farm.  www.goodkarmafarm.com

Belfast was awash with passengers from a coastal cruise ship. I borrowed an air pump from the bike shop to top off my tires and asked if there was a local coffee shop. “Oh, you gotta go to Weaver’s just around the corner,” the bike shop owner said.

Around the corner I went and was greeted by a sign: “Home of the Persian Bun.” Always one eager to sample the local culinary highlights, I ordered said bun and a coffee. Please refer to the picture. Turns out a Persian Bun is a giant, chocolate frosting-covered cinnamon roll.

One of the delights of undertaking a journey of this kind is that unlike with the rest of my life at this point I don’t have to worry about over-eating. I can eat anything I want and as much as I want and by the end of the day all those calories will have been spread over the last 60 miles.

Without a thought about how many calories the doughy creation contained, I sank my teeth into Belfast’s treasured delight.

The Persian had been a Belfast staple for generations but disappeared when the Camden Home Bakery closed in the early ‘90s. Bummed by the fact that they couldn’t relive one of the joys of their childhoods, a couple of people from the 30th reunion of the 1981Camden-Rockport High School started a campaign to bring back the Persian Bun. Max Weaver, a local baker, took up the challenge.

A Belfast public bench.
“I bite into it and go back in time,” said Chris Morong, a class of ’81 graduate.

Perhaps due to a sugar/dough overload I managed to get myself lost for more than 20 miles trying to take a more scenic route here than US 1 affords.
 
Tra la, tra la, what a way to work off all those calories.

To understand why I'm riding and raising money, please go to the first post--April 26.
To make a donation to the ALSA, please go to: http://web.alsa.org/goto/deirdresride

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