60.4 miles . Avg Speed 13.4MPH. Fastest Speed 41.2MPH
As I type after retiring from Day 1 I sit at a crimson bench staring at my flimsy excuse for a tent; the only tent in view in fact, for tonight I reside at Shady Oaks campsite in East Orland, and by campsite I mean a Dutch window display for behemoth RVs. Fortunately, most of these locals seem to have taken pity on me, it’s hard to get anything done here as I’ve constantly been stopped and questioned with genuine interest about my journey from young and old, male and female, and black and white. Not black actually, as Maine is a little like 16th century Britain in terms of its demographic diversity, but you get the point.
I arrived at my first campground in Bar Harbor at 9pm last night with just enough light remaining for me to pitch my tent. It wasn’t what I had expected. I had to sleep alone in a gravel strewn overflow car park that looked as if it had the hallmarks of the Fred West Landscape Gardening Co, it was petrifying, I spent an hour trying to go to sleep wondering whether or not I would wake up to find some grinning toothless perv wearing my testicles as earrings. However, when I went to pay the man this morning, “no charge” was the reply. He could see I was tired and didn’t exactly get the most out of my night there, so he waived the fee. It’s Bar Harbor Campground by the way, you know, if you’re ever in the area and after a freebie.
I was up early this morning and after building my bike began my journey in the sun around some of the best scenery I’ve had the fortune to lay my eyes on. Winding, sloping, wide roads acted as the main character in this production, but the scenery was something else; enormous, sheer faced mountains contended with glistening blue ocean for pride of place in the memory bank. I must‘ve looked like a right div because I cycled for nearly the entire day with a smile on my face arching my neck from left to right as I attempted to take in all that was before me. The smile didn’t last though, as after 45 miles I happened upon a puncture. On the first day! I’m hoping that was just beginners’ bad luck, because 80 odd inner tubes would cost me a bomb, and I ain’t got the perseverance to find and fix a hole the size of George Osbourne’s heart every day. Fortunately, a very convivial lobster fisherman named Rocky (yes, Rocky) was on hand to help, that was, until his Harley broke in what can only be described as an 8 square foot Bermuda triangle for dual wheelers. Don’t bother coming to help, though, we’ve sorted it, have me and Rocky.
Apart from the spectacular scenery, this state is really about the people, I woke up this morning alone in a serial killer’s theme park, and go to bed having been offered three places to stay on my journey, help with a puncture, butane for my stove and countless other words of encouragement for the journey ahead from the likes of Jack, Travis, Peter, Joyce and Kathie (the delightful owner of a restaurant that supplied me with the best eggs benedict I’ve ever had this morning). If I meet kinder people in any state, then I’ll be a lucky man.
The mosquitos on the other hand are right greedy bastards. My legs look like an aero bar. Little shits.
As I type after retiring from Day 1 I sit at a crimson bench staring at my flimsy excuse for a tent; the only tent in view in fact, for tonight I reside at Shady Oaks campsite in East Orland, and by campsite I mean a Dutch window display for behemoth RVs. Fortunately, most of these locals seem to have taken pity on me, it’s hard to get anything done here as I’ve constantly been stopped and questioned with genuine interest about my journey from young and old, male and female, and black and white. Not black actually, as Maine is a little like 16th century Britain in terms of its demographic diversity, but you get the point.
I arrived at my first campground in Bar Harbor at 9pm last night with just enough light remaining for me to pitch my tent. It wasn’t what I had expected. I had to sleep alone in a gravel strewn overflow car park that looked as if it had the hallmarks of the Fred West Landscape Gardening Co, it was petrifying, I spent an hour trying to go to sleep wondering whether or not I would wake up to find some grinning toothless perv wearing my testicles as earrings. However, when I went to pay the man this morning, “no charge” was the reply. He could see I was tired and didn’t exactly get the most out of my night there, so he waived the fee. It’s Bar Harbor Campground by the way, you know, if you’re ever in the area and after a freebie.
I was up early this morning and after building my bike began my journey in the sun around some of the best scenery I’ve had the fortune to lay my eyes on. Winding, sloping, wide roads acted as the main character in this production, but the scenery was something else; enormous, sheer faced mountains contended with glistening blue ocean for pride of place in the memory bank. I must‘ve looked like a right div because I cycled for nearly the entire day with a smile on my face arching my neck from left to right as I attempted to take in all that was before me. The smile didn’t last though, as after 45 miles I happened upon a puncture. On the first day! I’m hoping that was just beginners’ bad luck, because 80 odd inner tubes would cost me a bomb, and I ain’t got the perseverance to find and fix a hole the size of George Osbourne’s heart every day. Fortunately, a very convivial lobster fisherman named Rocky (yes, Rocky) was on hand to help, that was, until his Harley broke in what can only be described as an 8 square foot Bermuda triangle for dual wheelers. Don’t bother coming to help, though, we’ve sorted it, have me and Rocky.
Apart from the spectacular scenery, this state is really about the people, I woke up this morning alone in a serial killer’s theme park, and go to bed having been offered three places to stay on my journey, help with a puncture, butane for my stove and countless other words of encouragement for the journey ahead from the likes of Jack, Travis, Peter, Joyce and Kathie (the delightful owner of a restaurant that supplied me with the best eggs benedict I’ve ever had this morning). If I meet kinder people in any state, then I’ll be a lucky man.
The mosquitos on the other hand are right greedy bastards. My legs look like an aero bar. Little shits.
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