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Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson

Bicycle touring journals

October 21 Friday Bicycle touring from Mattawamkeag Maine to somewhere in rainy Maine

We camped in a playground inside a gazebo behind the café. Our small bicycle touring tent didn't quite fit. The poles were dangling off the edges of the platform, but the roof kept most of the rain off us. We should have remembered to cover our bike seats though. The rain in Maine falls mainly not on the plain.

We had breakfast specials at our favourite Mattawamkeag café. We were practically regulars after five cups of coffee. In more way than one. Yep, in restaurants I've switched to coffee from tea or hot chocolate because they give lots of free refills. Two eggs, toast, jam, hash browns and five coffees: $1.79. Not a bad way to begin a day of bicycle touring, eh?

However, outside is a different story. It's not the greatest day to be bicycle touring. The rain continues to fall. Last night was warm though -- the warmest we've had outdoors in a while.

At a Walmart in Lincoln, I cycled in to buy a rain poncho. They have great customer service. A girl shows me the ponchos, where the restroom is, then while I go in to use the washroom, she goes and gets a raincoat and poncho from the sporting goods department and is waiting at the restroom door when I get out. How about that? Then she takes me over to an aisle in sporting goods and shows me what is available there. As she leaves me to ponder my decision, she says, "There is a snack bar with hot coffee at the front." What a difference from a Gulf station in the middle of nowhere where I wanted to use the washroom and the girl just shook her head no. She wouldn't even speak to me. It seems like when the weather is foul, some people become less friendly and cooperative. Their mood becomes foul as well.

We put grocery bags over our cycling shoes and went back out into the lingering rainstorm. We cycled to La Grange and hit Bubba's Restaurant to try the turkey sandwich special with four cups of coffee.

I was soaked, but I was warm while riding with my new bright orange poncho. But I still got wet from the inside. The poncho is plastic and doesn't breathe. I thought there would be enough air flow from beneath to counter that. But apparently not. Ah well, another failed experiment, as Sharon would say. Maybe it will make a good ground sheet for our compact cycle touring tent.

We studied the map, trying to figure out the best route to Montreal. It is Friday, and rain is forecast to last until Sunday. We could cycle Hwy 201 back to Quebec City. We could have lots of hot showers and rest up at our cottage with Maurice and Jacqueline. Wouldn't they be surprised to see us cycle into their yard?

We have gone pretty far south already though in an attempt at warmer weather, so it would be a shame just to cut back up. We decided to cycle southwest to Hwy 2 and go west through New Hampshire and Vermont before cutting back up to Quebec. It will probably be great bicycle touring once the rain stops. A few trees still have green leaves; lots are yellow, and lots are bare.

We are near Bangor, Maine, where Stephen King lives. He is supposed to have a weird house. I wonder what he does for Halloween in his yard? Lots of houses around here are decorated. I have never seen anything like it. My favourite so far was the guy coming out of the grave though. We have pedalled past lots of headless people sitting on porches.

Maine has its share of ratty cars. Not like Quebec, where almost all the cars were new. We cycle past many houses in disrepair. Some have six dilapidated cars in the yard. No pollution control here. Maine has about one-and-a-half million people, of which about 30 percent live in cities, so there are lots of rural folks. Maine is the third largest potato producer in the US, after Idaho and Washington. It is not a big cash crop though when fifty pounds sell for $4.00.

We are holed up in some no-name town in a ransacked laundromat. They must have a tough clientele. Most of the windows are busted out including the two front doors. There are holes in the walls and ceiling. The washroom is disgusting with no hot water. It is after 9 PM and it is still raining. We washed a load of clothes and dried them. We ate supper. We are writing in our journals, hoping the rain will let up enough to cycle to a park.

I shrunk my insoles in the dryer. And one got so hot it stuck to the dryer drum. Part of it peeled off as I tried to remove it.

We put fresh-scented household garbage bags over our socks and inside our cycling shoes. I'm definitely a class act. Plastic bags over one's shoes look pretty silly; it's okay while I'm pedaling, but looks goofy in towns. And I don't feel right tromping around inside stores like some hillbilly.

At the rest stop in Houghton yesterday a bus load of seniors stopped. I overheard some of them talking. Where are we going again? Nova Scotia? How do you spell that?

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