What was that quote I made yesterday about sliding into home.....

shouting "Holy Crap, What a Ride"

There was no coasting to be had today, not physically, and not emotionally, and that was fine, how could the penultimate day being anything less than this day.

First, we rode 41.8 miles of your basic middle of nowhere Maine from southwest Nowhere, Maine to northeast Nowhere, Maine (this is not a criticism by any means, it was quite wonderful, miles of mostly woods and hills, vistas, bodies of water, and very little else, and we loved it ....

To lean on a few lyrics by Cat Stevens:

Miles from nowhere
I guess I'll take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there

Look up at the mountain
I have to climb
Oh yeah, to reach there.

And we did take our time, sort of. We left East Machias at 8 a.m. and arrived in Robbinston, Maine (only 15 miles from our final destination) some time after 2 p.m.  It was a chilly day, which is good and bad.  The good part is that I prefer to be cold than to be hot.  The down side is I have to pee more often when I am cold.  So now, put this all together, nearly 42 miles of nothing, cold temperatures, and I have to pee more often.  We have the making of a minor disaster, well, okay, not exactly a disaster, but definately a memory, embarrassing as it is.  The first time I could not wait any longer and we were literally miles from nowhere, or miles into nowhere, I knew this would be it, when I finally just hit the open road (pun intended).  I have camped for years (though that was a few decades ago) and in that other life time, I have stood naked in the woods, washed up, changed my clothes in the open, dug my own temporary potties, but knowing this, remembering that I have been there, done that, doesn't help when I have become (for some years) a cover up aholic (there are few people in this world who have even seen my legs in the past twenty years).  One thing about the miles of Maine road through nothing but woods and hills and bodies of water is that there are lots of dirt and gravel side roads leading who knows where, and I finally decided I would duck into one of these side roads before I wet my pants.  Trying to be descrete a stone's throw from Route 1 North in somewhere, Maine, (without going into the really embarrasing details), I ended up with urine soaked underwear and bike pants, and hands, so now I have to take my clothes off from the waist down, clean up, and rummage through my bags on my bike for clean clothes to wear, actually we have no clean clothes left save a few pair of underwear for me and one bra and a few pairs of socks.  So much for descrete - in the distance dogs were barking their fool heads off, they knew I was there in the middle of the day in a very open area just off Route 1 North butt naked (literally) and I feared their owners would wonder what was so alarming to the dogs and come looking.  I did not know we were close to anything until we got back on the road and just up the next hill was a house on the right, the side we were on, with a bunch of caged dogs.  We are all of ten miles into a 40 plus mile ride, hmmmm, is this an omen for the rest of the day..........  The next bathroom break, at 18 miles (I am so glad I have not had other days like today), we took a mile diversion to stop at a park, it had to be done and there wasn't any other options visible and our experience to date has been good when it comes to parks, they have been a plus, and we get to the state park and the only option there is an outhouse. After the side of the road fiasco, the outhouse, though barely, was somewhat more appealing and after a number of long deep breaths, I managed to force myself through the experience and survive it okay.  It's as if today was all about getting over my resistance to making due when the body demands it and learning to appreciate what ever option there is available.  Even the side of the road in Maine.  At thirty miles, and passing a few grungy looking gas stations in a short few blocks of civilization somewhere between Pembroke and Perry Maine, I stopped at the last one when all that was before me was a horizon of open road, the gas station was actually a gas station combination convenience store and the bathroom was the best thing I had seen since I left East Machias.  We ended up in a long conversation with Doug, who worked there, perhaps was the owner, and who lived between there and Robbinston, our destination for the day.  He layed out a short cut for us, which he anticipated would save us 6 miles of ridiing.  In the end, it saved us two miles, and was a roller coaster of hills, but we were off Route 1, the back roads were hardly traveled so we mostly had them to ourselves, and it did save us two miles.  Doug also told us which house along the way was his and if we wanted to stop there for a break we were welcomed to.  How amazingly cool is that?  We pushed through to Route 1 a mile below the inn where we are staying tonight and as we came over one of the last few hills on the back roads there it was, CANADA!

We finally arrived in Robbinston, Maine, 14 miles below Calais where we ride to tomorrow.  We are staying at an old captain's house, and it is quite awesome (The Brewer House, Robbinston, Maine).  When we arrived, Joan, who is one of the owners I believe, told us they were upgrading us to the captain's room (you should see this place, oh my) at no extra charge, and when I asked about doing laundry, which is now a critical item under the conditions described earlier in this post (my bike pants being in with all the other dirty laundry, well, you get the idea), she arranged to have a load of clothes done for us and delivered back to us washed and dried, then we had juice and muffins and waffles delivered to us in our room, very very cool.  We have learned that this house, another historic home, was one of the last stops on the underground railroad.  The captain would take slaves across the street, if you had a good arm you could throw a stone into the St. Croix river from our bedroom window, and load up the boats and port the slaves across the river to Canada and to freedom.  This is our last stop in the United States, as it was the last stop in the United States for so many slaves.  Tomorrow we arrive in St. Stephen and spend the night in Canada. I cannot say that it will feel like freedom somehow, but I can say it will feel historic. 

Thre are so many people to thank, there are so many extraordinary memories, the journey has a life of its own, it has been a ship asail in the wind and I have been fortunate enough to be on deck, I don't know how I came to this fortune, I did not expect this when I stepped on board, but I can look to the night sky now and still not be able to navigate by the stars, but I can say "fuck it", where ever the wind directs me, I know now it will be just where I need to go.

See you on the road.......

Comments

[Ev and Paul]

..."but I can look to the night sky now and still not be able to navigate by the stars, but I can say "fuck it", where ever the wind directs me, I know now it will be just where I need to go."..faith v.
Paul read the above and simply stated, "well put, Cousin!"
Congrats on completeion. see ya soon....Love, Ev and Paul