Near Stratton, Maine – July 9, 2012

I’m writing this from a camp table near the Wifi “hot spot” in a nice lakeside campground about six km shy of Stratton.  It’s getting dark and cool so I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to carry on.

I can’t speak too highly of yesterday’s wonderful B & B hosts who besides plying me with wine and French immersion, fed me a gourmet breakfast this morning before I hit the road.

Today’s ride was, as I expected, hilly for the first 35 km

to about 5 km shy of the border crossing at Coburn, Maine (consisting of Canadian and American border posts and a gas station and nothing else). 

The rest of the ride was still somewhat hilly, but much with much smaller hills mainly because the route changed direction and began following the drainage southeast.  The weather was again ideal, sunny with a fresh tailwind breeze.  Nevertheless, I was somewhat fatigued after putting 77 km on the clock and stopped at this campground, which I’d been told was a good one.

Today’s low point occurred when I received a dressing-down from a local Homeland Security Gestapo guy when I innocently walked across the border with my bike to enter the US as a pedestrian (normal procedure at home in Blaine WA).  I’m now more convinced than ever that the US government uses Homeland Security as a dumping ground for its surly otherwise unemployable personnel, giving the biggest azzholes the most isolated border posts so they won’t pzz off as many foreigners.

The countryside changed significantly at the border, assuming a more New England appearance – wetter, moose pasture and more lakes – and bugs.  This is probably because I was now following a river valley.

Augusta ME – July 12

And on the seventh day, he rested…

It’s Friday morning and I’m writing this from a rather sterile Motel 6 just outside Augusta, the state capital.  I’ve had a couple of days hard riding through never-ending hills and I’m overdue for a day off the bike.

 On Wednesday, I rode about 85 km (57 miles – I changed the settings on my odometer after entering this unit-backwards country) from Stratton to just shy of Skowhegan ME.  Conditions were quite good – estimated mid-70s, a mix of sun and cloud and no significant wind.  The terrain, however, was as noted above, quite hilly and I was pretty tired by the time I arrived at the campground.

Maine, or at least that part of it, was almost undeveloped with none of the usual fast food joints, big box stores, motels etc. one typically encounters around mid-sized US and Canadian towns.  I was ready to grab a motel that night but couldn’t find one even in Madison, a fair-sized town with a pulp mill.  I was in fact having flashbacks of the Romanian part of my last year’s Danube tour by the end of the day.  The campground was a good one – even totally wired for Wifi

but I was too tired to do much more than check my E-mail and catch up on the news.

I finally reached America the Convenient at Skawhegan yesterday.  I’m now back in the land of fast and abundant food, dollar stores, etc. – all the necessities!

Yesterday’s ride to Augusta was short – about 65 km (43 miles on the odo.).  The weather was sunny and quite hot – mid 80s.  The terrain was reasonable for the first half of the ride (to Waterville) but degenerated into lots of short, steep hills for the rest.  Hill quantity and grade more than height or length wears one down on a loaded bike.  By the time I reached Augusta – the hilliest and most down-at-heel state capital I ’ve ever seen,



I was again very tired, dispirited, a pulled muscle in my left leg was bothering me and my aging body was crying out for a day off the bike .

I had an interesting interlude with the locals before I checked into the motel.  John, a 50-something local hippie and former Engineer, flagged me down and invited me home.  “Home” turned out to be sort of a hobo crash pad with assorted flotsam and jetsam hanging around.  I was initially apprehensive and worried that I’d landed amongst druggies who’d proceed to strip me and the bike of anything of value.  I soon realized they were simply OK people to whom life had thrown a few bad curves.  Mr. and Mrs. “Road-dog” – both 50-something and transients for several years - fed me some hobo stew, I bought them and the others some beer (and was immediately a hero), listened to some bad guitar playing – the guy was left handed so I couldn’t play his guitar myself – and enjoyed their company for a couple of hours.  It simply felt good to be sitting down!  John suggested I stay with the gang last night but my common sense and survival instinct kicked in and I politely deferred.  We parted with smiles all around.

I’ll probably get on my (unloaded) bike and check out Augusta’s limited attractions.  'with an early start, I should be able to make Portland and the Atlantic coast tomorrow.

A quick note on Maine generally.  Sorry to the natives but it’s sure not my favorite state.  The parts of Maine I’ve seen  to date seem rather backwards and past their prime, sort of like the US southeast.  Also I wasn’t expecting much in the way of scenery so I wasn’t disappointed but apart from a few isolated points of interest, I’ve found very little worth photographing.  It’s also seriously short of campgrounds (no camping in any Maine state parks I’ve seen or Googled), motels and B & Bs.  Hopefully the southern Maine coast will be more interesting and tourist-friendly.

Another thing - I thought there were a lot of fat people in small-town Quebec but when I hit the Maine border, I realized I hadn’t seen anything yet.  The number of not just fat, but really obese people has to be seen to be believed.  I haven’t seen this much per capita obesity since Mississippi/Alabama and down there, the locals at least have the excuse that it’s often too hot to move fast.  This has to be a major and as yet not seriously addressed national problem for the US and perhaps soon the Canadian government.  What to do about it, I honestly don’t know.  How do you get people to stop eating crap and start exercising?  Pedal-powered TVs perhaps?  Anyway, all for now.