Pemaquid Point  June 17

I’m in a tent at a campground a mile north of Pemaquid Light, the lighthouse I’m told that is reproduced on every Maine quarter in the U.S. Mint’s salute to the 50 states. I’ll see what it looks like tomorrow morning.

What a lovely time of year to be riding in this landscape. Wildflowers in blue, yellow, white, pink, and purple paint the fields.  Smells, some offensive, others sweet, sweep across the nose, sometimes momentarily, others lingering to give me a heady ride. I feel the undulations, twists and turns of the land, something you can’t get from the concrete ribbon that is I-95.

As I rolled into Wisscasett a long line of people around a small corner building with a sign declaring “Red’s Eats” couldn’t be missed.  Jane, a graphic designer from Camden, said that some publication judged Red’s to serve the best lobster roll in the state. “That line is short compared to summer,” she said. “And this traffic is nothing compared to what’s here in the summer,” she added as a never-ending line of cars and trucks rolled past.

I opted to sit on the banks of the Back River and eat my picnic lunch while Red’s line got longer.

After crossing the river, I decided to get off the busy US 1 onto something calmer. I turned south onto SR 129/130 outside of Damariscotta. I also wanted to experience what one of Maine’s fingers had to offer. In Maryland and Virginia there’re called “necks”; geographically there’re peninsulas.  Maine has scores of them hanging down into the Atlantic. This one ends at Pemaquid Point Lighthouse.

A sign at the end of a driveway stated “model ships.” I’m in Maine, the home of great sailing vessels with men who built ship models on long voyages. Maybe this is one of them, I thought.

Nope. Henry Musser has been building boats, some from kits, others from scratch, in miniature for 25 years. A quarter inch to a foot. They can take up to a year to make. “I don’t know why I do it,” he said. “I think I like to be in myself,” he said, referring to the solitary nature of his hobby.

He was born, raised and educated in State College, PA. “We didn’t know there were any other colleges,” he said with a laugh. Musser also taught at Penn State and other universities after receiving his MFA.

He also flies a private airplane, paints watercolors and makes miniature toy soldiers. After thinking about what attracts him to all of his interests he supposed it is the exactness that’s demanded of each one. “You really have to focus when you’re doing each one, you can’t be distracted,” he said. “Plus, each one just involves me, so I guess I like the solitary nature of what I do.”

He’ll sell a model but “I don’t do this to sell them; I make them because I like making them. I don’t do it every day but just when I feel like it.” 

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

Bath   June16

Morning on Sebago Lake

Oh my, it was cold last night in my tent. I put on almost all my clothes and managed to finally get a fairly decent night’s sleep.

After the sun had warmed things up a bit, I stopped to take off my jacket. Across the road, the calls of frogs in a roadside swamp sounded like bass strings being plucked on a poorly-tuned banjo.

I managed to take a wrong turn out of West Pownal and wound up in North Pownal rather than where I was supposed to be in Pownal Center. (Gobs of originality in place names, eh?) While the southern states had their eccentricities, at least they identified all of the roads on which I traveled. Evidently tight-fisted New Englanders see little reason to sign every road in the belief that if you’re on that road you should know its name.  Many a time my map will direct me to “Turn right onto unsigned Whatever Road/Street.” So, it’s a crap shoot and sometimes I lose. Hell, signs cost money.

They also seem to take great pleasure in screwing up everyone’s mind by applying multiple names to the same piece of asphalt that runs from A to B. For this block it could be Maine St. but in the next block it’s Foster St. and even further on it’s Sagamore Road.

The other day I asked a man if I was on Old Ayer Road, as the map directed I should be. “I’ve never heard it called that and I’ve lived here 40 years,” the man said. Sure enough, four miles up the road there was a sign saying this was Old Ayer Road but no such sign existed any closer to the town of Ayer.

So it was no surprise when I got to a country intersection (Again one of those “turn left on unsigned road and then immediately right on…”) that a glorious estate appeared, complete with elegant Georgian buildings, extensive and well manicured lawns, burbling lakes, winding walkways and a beautiful fenced flower and vegetable garden. This was in the middle of nowhere; it just suddenly appeared.

A Pineland oak that was a
spaling when George
Washington was
president. 

A man sitting on a bench in the flower garden said it was Pineland Farms. Their mission is “to provide a productive and educational venue that enriches the community by demonstrating responsible farming techniques, offering educational opportunities and encouraging a healthy lifestyle through recreation.” www.pinelandfarms.org

Pineland Center in New Gloucester (So, that’s where I was.) was established in 1908 to serve as a home for the mentally handicapped of Maine. When it closed in 1996, Pineland consisted of a 28-building campus and 1600-plus acres. A large part of the acreage consisted of farmland which had at one time been cultivated to sustain the needs of the Center's staff and residents.
The Libra Foundation of Portland, Maine purchased the Pineland campus, made extensive renovations, built new buildings and made additional land purchases. The Pineland property now encompasses a 19-building campus and 5,000 acres of farmland.

I finally made it into Freeport, that madhouse of consumerism centered around the LL Bean Company. I had a minor adjustment made to my bike and managed to avoid buying anything in that purchase-frenzied atmosphere except for a tasty lunch at The Corsican, a well rated eatery tucked off the main drag.

A recycle of old bicycle wheel rims and old inner tubes
to hold a mailbox.

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

Sebago Lake, ME   June 15  

A crystalline day, gin clear and bright.

There was a bit of a delay in getting out of Portsmouth. I followed the directions to go across the bridge to Kittery, ME but when I got to the bridge it wasn’t there. The state had dropped the aging structure late last year and now there is nothing. (There are two high-speed multi-lane bridges further north but pedestrians and bicycles are not allowed on them.)  At a nearby corner sat a 12-person van that will shuttle people and bikes every hour between the two cities until a new bridge is completed sometime next year.

The morning ride was along the coast, through York Harbor, York Beach, Ogunquit, Moody and Wells Beaches, and Wells. The wind was brisk, the temperature bracing and the riding glorious. The Atlantic crashed on the rocky and dark gray sand shore. A lone wet-suited surfer attempted to ride the pitifully small waves. While walkers chugged along the beachside sidewalk in windbreakers and light jackets, a smattering of sunbathers bared their bodies but kept low out of the wind.

Then the route took me inland into the landscape of Andrew Wyeth Christina’s World. Large rolling swaths of fields rolled before me against the backdrop of centuries old farmhouses.

As I rolled here pick-ups hauling boats whizzed past, fisherman looking for a weekend of excitement on this 12-mile long lake.

My dinner included a lobster roll, a uniquely New England creation. Take a hot dog roll, jam it full of lobster chunks  and there you have it. There are two versions: toast the inside of the roll and drizzle the meat with butter or mix the lobster with mayo and sprinkle on some pepper.  Both are outstanding. Whole lobsters are selling for as low as $4.99 a pound.

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

Portsmouth, NH  June 14

I took a rain delay in Ayer. It rained all day yesterday so I holed up and stayed dry. Today was great, the morning overcast and cool, the afternoon sunny and cool. The ride was through small New Hampshire towns with quintessential town squares ringed by lovely homes that have been carefully restored.

As I waited for a bus to disgorge its students I asked, “When’s the last day of school?” In unison the seven of them yelled, “Today!” And they whooped and hollered.

Portsmouth is wonderful, not only because I’ve found my first brewpub, but because of the vitality that exists in the city. After a delightful repast at Portland Brewing and knocking back two of its in-house beers, I walked around the downtown. People were everywhere—dining alfresco, sitting on benches enjoying the cool evening, window shopping, or enjoying the buskers.

One shop that caught my eye had a window display of typewriters and fountain pens. Those two objects that disappeared from my life so long ago are now hot, trendy and expensive. Isn’t that the way it always is? What was is new? From now until I depart this earth I’ll save everything so my heirs can sell it when it comes back into fashion. My legacy.

The Adventure Cycling Association’s (www.adventurecycling.org) Atlantic Coast route that I’m using starts in Bar Harbor, ME and ends in Key West, FL.  One of the reasons I decided to do it in reverse was to sort of follow Spring as it moved northward.  Spring moved faster than I have but all along the route the grasses, trees, weeds and flowers have exhibited the vibrancy of the color of youth versus the faded, dulled, sun-bleached palette of late summer. Another marker has been the strawberry season. As I have moved north, so has the strawberry picking season. Delicious!

Portsmouth back street

Portsmouth waterfront

Ayer, June 12-13

Gerry accompanied me on his bike back onto the ACA route this morning.  Their lakeside house is about two miles off-route.

The morning was glorious and the air heavy with the sweet scent of alfalfa and the honeyed smell of clover. Outside of Upton I stopped at an intersection, as I have done many times on this trip, trying to figure out if I was headed in the right direction on the correct road. Was this unsigned road the one my map said I was supposed to be on?  

Up drove Jerry Cote in his pickup. “Need help?” he asked. In short order he had me headed the right way. He is only second person to offer me help over the more than 2,300 miles I’ve covered. Thanks, Jerry.

As I approached Ayer I saw the word “honey” on a sign in front of a long, low building. I turned around and rode into the driveway of the Maxant Honey Equipment Company.

Jake Heinemann, company CEO, laughed when I explained how on my ride across the country in 2010 I had visited the Walter T. Kelly Co., a large international bee equipment company, in Clarkson, KY. “Oh, yea, they’re one of our big customers,” he said.

Maxant makes honey processing equipment—extractors, bottling and storage tanks, uncapping machines, liquefying and wax melting tanks, filters, pumps, trays and clarifiers.

The White House uses a Maxant extractor to harvest the honey from its hives. Last year the hives produced 134 pounds of honey.

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

My soul was happy that I passed on by.

Dudley, MA    June 11

The ride north out of Windsor Locks was yet more hills. There I was grinding up still another one, thinking good thoughts, when I looked to my right and saw a sign on a building: Serafin Sulky Co.

What? Sulkies are those small carts that drivers ride on behind trotters and pacers in races. What is a sulky maker doing in Stafford Springs, CT. Besides, aren’t sulky makers creatures of the past?

No they aren’t, said Michael Serafin, who is carrying on what his father started in 1933. “There were tracks all around here but they’ve closed so now most of my business comes from recreational horse driving enthusiasts.”

Serafin is the lone employee. From raw wood to finished vehicle, he makes every cart that leaves his building. He makes road carts, runabouts, pleasure carts, pony carts, show carts, surreys, easy entry carts, jog carts and more. He’s one of less than five in U.S. still making wooden sulkies and carts. The Chinese have moved into the business using metal for the shafts and stealing most of the racing sulky trade.

Later this month he’ll travel to Bird-in-Hand, PA to attend the Lancaster County Carriage & Antique Auction. There he’ll buy and sell carts. http://www.birdinhandauction.com/  

At 69 he’s dismayed that he has no one in training to take over the business. He doesn’t even have a Web site, just word of mouth.

My day ended on the shores of Baker Pond at the home of Gerry and Maureen Frank of Dudley. They’re members of http://www.warmshowers.org/, an international  hospitality Website for touring bicyclists. Gerry was hosted by Warmshowers members on his ride across the southern part of the U.S. last year with his daughter and her husband.

While Maureen, a retired school teacher, cooked a delicious dinner, Gerry talked about their charitable work to help Nepalese women.  He raises money to build schools (about $5,000 each) and works with a micro-lending program for women to start businesses. Gerry travels often to Nepal but Gerry had her first trip this past winter. Their daughter, who is now in her late 20s, went with her father when she was 13.  http://www.edwon.org/

They have also helped an entire Nepalese family to immigrate to the United States, where the two daughters are winning top honors in their schools.

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

Windsor Locks, June 10

This part of CT is nothing but hills and more hills. Never ending. Ugh. 

When I got to North Canaan I was ready for breakfast and wonderfully the Collin’s Diner appeared. It’s an original 1941 diner that has sat across from the train station since then. It’s a National Historic Landmark.

Inside there are six booths and about a dozen stools. The countertop is black marble, worn from thousands of people who have leaned on it. The diner is named for the original proprietors who started their business with a horse drawn eatery during the early 1900’s. Since the late ‘60’s the diner has been owned by the Hamzy family, which for the past 16 years has produced New England’s largest free poetry festival in front of the eatery.

This is another place where everyone knows your name. When one guy walked in everyone started singing Happy Birthday to him. Eating my pancakes at the end of the counter I felt like an invader but soon I was asked by one of the two waitresses where I had come from and where I was going. That led to “You gotta be kidding!” “For real?” “What, are you nuts?” from the regulars. By the time I paid my bill I had been wished “Good luck,” told to have “Safe travels” and to “Be careful out there.”   http://www.collinsdiner.com/

I arrived at the Ramada near Hartford’s Bradley Airport about 30 minutes before Dee. This is the first we’ve seen each other since I left for Key West in late April. Whoopee!

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