Breakfast and Lunch on Mt. Desert Island

Sept. 16.

We woke up at about 7:30 this morning--about two hours and 15 minutes after the sun's light first touched the peak of Cadillac Mountain. We neglected to purchase any sort of breakfast food the night before, so we resorted to some sort of dehydrated food pack for breakfast. It was chicken risotto. Too my surprise, it tasted all right.

Nicole enjoys early mornings at Acadia Park.

As soon as we got up, I appreciated the cool air that the sea and the woods of Acadia offered. Not so much for Nicole, as she was slightly reluctant to get out of bed this morning. Even after she left the tent, she took her sleeping bag with her. The air was a little too crisp for her taste.

Because we had a friend to meet and a wedding to attend, time didn't allow us much time to dawdle. Shortly after breakfast we packed up and were on our way. Instead of taking Acadia's main road, we initially went south towards the paradoxically named Northeast Harbor, than rode north, sandwiched in between Sargent Mountain and Mt. Desert.

Sargent Mountain as seen from the south. Its rocky face and steep grades are different then anything I've seen in a long time.

The initial ride was almost a dizzying, disorienting experience. The tall crests and sharp jagged rocks looked lest like New England and more like the rocky mountain west to such an inexperienced traveler. Riding up and down hills was also confusing. Every little hill we climbed was well over 250 feet from its base. Whenever we reached the hills summit, we were flummoxed from the physical exertion of the climb, yet with two bona fide mountain peaks on either side of us, we felt as if we hadn't climbed at all. Thus, every time we descended 200 or so literal feet, we felt that that we shouldn't be going downwards at all.

Real Food Good? I think Cookie Monster wrote this sign.

Things flattened out once we approached to town of Bar Harbor. I spotted an interesting sign on the road that boasted, "real good food." Eager to check it out, I signaled to Nicole and we pulled over. Good timing: it was almost noon and time for lunch.

It was restaurant that served almost exclusively, fresh, local food. How local? The garden was in front of the store. Nicole and I each had sandwiches so fresh that we wondered if the lettuce had been picked that very morning (a sidenote: lettuce actually has a distinct taste, although most lettuce is grown in the Arizona desert, hence the taste of solidified, room temperature water that most of us are familiar with).

The just stared at us. The horses down the road treated us the same way.

Just like that, we were on the road again. We were supposed to meet Chris in nearby Ellsworth, but by the time we got there, he had already reached our destination in Orland, about 25 miles away. And so we rode on, through the cute little township of Ellsworth and into rural Maine. We turned off of Route 1 once we left Ellsworth and into some sort of back country. Even though we were just a few miles from the strip malls of the main road (no pun intended), some of the local farm animals stared at us, puzzled at these outsiders in their fancy clothing and strange non-motorized contraptions.

After some amusing animal interactions, we found ourselves pedaling on route 1 again, somewhat exhausted. We had ridden a bit further than was ideal for the first day in order to make the wedding on time. Fortunately, we found Chris at an intersection, complete with his decked out Surly Long Haul Trucker, gear and all.

"What took you guys so long?" he asked, smiling.

"Everything hurts," said Nicole. "We left at 7:30 this morning."

Chris' grin widened. "Yeah, it's when you're spirit is completely broken that you're just about ready to ride!"

We chuckled. The campground was no more than half a mile away. We pedaled in and set up camp for the night at an RV park. A large percentage of the "campgrounds" in Maine are merely seasonal homes with wheels those who spend their summers in Maine and the rest of the year well below the Mason-Dixon Line.

Thus concluded day 1 . . .