East Coast Greenway – Page 10 – Exploring by bicycle

Experiencing college all over again

We’re back in the dorms.

Usually we spend the night in hotels. But tonight we’re in the dorms of Unity College, a private college of 665 students focused on sustainable (ie environmental) sciences.

It’s better than the cinderblock building I lived in during my first two years of college at Mizzou. Five of us are in a suite — three bedrooms (one is a single), one lounge (big kitchen sink, no appliances), one shower, one half-bath. More space than the youth hostel in Richmond on last year’s ride. No air conditioning. Got to keep the beer hidden.

On the other hand, we’ve got the fastest internet service in days!

Dorm food has gotten better too (yes, I’m back to food). There was grilled chicken and also a vegan option, plus pasta with a spicy tomato sauce, a few options for side dishes of veggies and a generous salad bar with mixed greens, not iceberg lettuce. And we could have seconds — possibly dangerous when you’re dealing with cyclists.

And there’s real ice cream, not just soft-serve:

Too bad the chocolate syrup container was empty. I tried not to be crushed:

Admittedly, some of the good stuff was off-limits to us:

But it’s disappointing to read a printed poster from a college where “it’s” is spelled “its”.

And — really, college kids? Clearly I am a different generation:

By the way, to get another perspective on this ride, check out this blog.

Finally saw a moose, and more sights of central Maine

The sights of central Maine.

Sorry, just a statue…

We’ve also seen a 31-foot Paul Bunyan (Bangor claims to be the birthplace of this lumberjack, though a town in Minnesota says not so):

baseball (the poor team from Puerto Rico ended up losing by the 10-run rule):

and a private plane stored just off a grassy runway:

Why wouldn’t Alan the Mechanic haul some of this back to Portland for me? Think of what it would do for the garden:

Lawn furniture?

Who knew?

Because kale just doesn’t grow on the sidewalks of Brooklyn! (OK, that’s distorting a line from a former colleague, quoting her mom)

Day 4 — 41 miles from Bangor to Unity

Another food day on the East Coast Greenway, plus a lake.

And that includes one detour for ice cream and a second detour for a dip in a lake.

Today was an easy day — officially just 38 miles on the East Coast Greenway and only 1,857 feet of climbing. So it was all about the food. I know — I kind of said that yesterday too. Sorry. And then we cyclists wonder why we come home heavier than when we left.

The hotel’s breakfast was skimpy, so we stopped at a Maine institution about 5 miles along the route for proper fuel. Dysart’s is a truck stop with a diner attached. There was this, for example:

(don’t freak out — it was shared among 10 of us)

.. and this:

So our blueberry cobbler was really quite modest by comparison:I can’t say the same about our $3.75 ice creams:

But hey, that was lunch! (The chocolate loves chocolate flavor is really good, by the way).

Others in the group are so jealous that they’ve gone — by car! — to get some just before dinner (don’t tell their moms!).

Oh … the lake? They were jealous of that too. Hey, bike tours are as much about the stops as about the destination.

It was soooo shallow that I got this far from shore before the water first reached my knees:

And the water was so warm, it felt like a bathtub.

Saw some fish too:

And a parting shot:

Day 3 — 43 miles from Ellsworth to Bangor

Tough hills, filthy fries.

This was a short day, but the hills were the toughest we’ve had so far.

It started with a long, steep climb out of Ellsworth and barely let up as we followed U.S. 1 to Bucksport… where we again faced a climb out of town. It got to the point where I inwardly groaned when I saw a descent coming up because I feared the ascent. Some of these hills were Anchor-House-worthy! You know what I mean, Ken Carlson!

(Yes, some descents were pretty awesome. I hit 39 mph on one hold-on-tight drop.)

Of course, all that climbing — the “official” estimate is 2,571 feet — means you can eat whatever you want, right?

So while others drank their coffee in Bucksport, I (kind of patiently) waited for the ice cream shop to open at 11 a.m. 45 minutes!! (I know! But it was a short day, and I figured this town needed my $2.50 more than Bangor, given that a paper mill and 800 jobs had disappeared about a year ago.)

I peered in the windows countless times. I even spotted someone in there a couple of times. I swear she saw me too! But did she open up early? Nope. By the time she did, just about every rider had taken off. But I finally got my Maine blueberry ice cream.

Bucksport was the halfway point, and as we approached Bangor, Molly, the East Coast Greenway staffer responsible for Maine, said she wanted to check out a new riverfront trail in Brewer, across the river. The mileage was the same, plus there was a brewpub on the trail. Did we want to come along?

Of course!

Molly, Clive and the IPAs at Mason's Brewing Co. — Molly, Clive and the IPAs at Mason’s Brewing Co.

The food? Do you want your fries just dirty? Or filthy? We of course had to try filthy (think a Maine take on Canada’s poutine, down to cheese curds). Delicious!

Someone else went healthy…

Where’s the fun in that?

A second look at Maine’s Down East Sunrise Trail

I’m reassessing my view of the Down East Sunrise Trail.

Perhaps I was a little harsh yesterday.

The group that rode the Down East Sunrise Trail on Day 1 loved it. They took their time, seemingly stopping on every bridge to take photos. And the surface, while not consistent, isn’t as rough once you get more than a few feet away from a road crossing, they said.

While the trail is the longest trail segment on the East Coast Greenway, the big users are ATVs and, in the winter, snowmobiles, not cyclists. While the machines kick up some rocks, they also pack down the surface.

So we took a walk along the trail in Machias. It still felt too sandy for our skinny, slick tires, but it certainly looked better than what we saw on Sunday:

Taking the trail today cut off about 8 miles and all those hills. There’s barely a grade on on this trail Still, the surface seems to have beaten up our riders. Those who made it the whole way arrived much later than all of us who took the road.

Here’s a sign by the crossing in Machias that I liked. Can’t ignore the economic impact of trail tourism!

Day 2 — 68 miles from Machias to Ellsworth

We biked 68 miles today — it should be our longest day of the week.

We biked 68 miles today — it should be our longest day of the week — and climbed an estimated 3,212 feet, also the most of the week. We’re now at the gateway to Acadia National Park. The closest we’ll get, though, is this view from the road. I think Cadillac Mountain is the one on the right.

And while we left Machias after 8:30 a.m . (local newspaper wanted a group photo), we were in just after 4 p.m. Admittedly, our stops were relatively brief — while others opted for a sit-down lunch, we stuck to Clif Bars and the like. (Thank you, Steve, our five-star SAG, for keeping us plied with water and snacks.)

One of our stops, however, involved Columbia Falls and Rosa, who I wager is in her 80s, grew up in the town and now just summers here. She spotted a trio of riders taking a picture and clearly decided talking to them was far more interesting than washing the beet greens for dinner. Then more of us stopped. Among the tales she told us were of ice-skating to high school in the winter, the timber and fishing industries that once kept the town alive, and how in the 1940s there was no meat to be had and they ate venison in season — and out, she pointedly added. These sorts of encounters are one reason why exploring by bike is so interesting.

Our route along the East Coast Greenway was essentially the same as U.S. Bicycle Route 1. The hills just kept coming, but once again they weren’t too bad. The worst stretch was U.S. 1 and all the traffic, followed by the road we took to get off U.S. 1 that lacked a shoulder. But that’s why the Down East Sunrise Trail is there, right? Just too bad we didn’t have the right bikes (or at least tires) for it. It would have been the better choice for the second half of the ride. Plus the almost-finished extension goes right to the back of our hotel in Ellsworth.

A look back at Machias:

And I stand corrected on how those blueberries get harvested. It’s with a rake that shovels them into a box, and then eventually put in other boxes like these. Rosa told us her friends from down South who had helped their parents pick cotton said they;d never complain again — blueberrry harvesting is harder!

Blueberries!

Found some blueberries. Still looking for blueberry pie.

We have been told to stop for blueberries. Hey, bike rides are all about the food.

So when we spotted this blueberry field about three-quarters into our first day of our East Coast Greenway ride, we did. We focused on harvesting them by the handful. It felt a little like “Blueberries for Sal,” but without the bear.

The actual berries are smaller than the ones at home, and they’re grown on low bushes, not the high bushes at home. Our SAG driver said they serve another purpose — to act as fire breaks.

We saw someone harvesting blueberries as we drove to Calais yesterday. To me, it looked like he was using something similar to a tennis-ball hopper — push down and the balls (or berries) go in from the bottom, pushing up the balls (or berries) already there. Or was it some kind of scooper? He certainly didn’t seem hunched over, doing back-breaking work. Still, if it was hours in a field…

We’re still on the hunt for blueberry pie. Three of our riders have scored some, but it took a bit of sneakiness. The restaurant next to the motel in Machias had closed after lunch by the time they got in (and we can’t have been that far behind at 2:30 p.m.). But they waited outside the door until an employee wanted to head out, then bolted in and successfully pleaded for pie to go. They got the last three pieces of blueberry pie. And they just oozed blueberries. Look at that:

I admit I drooled. Enough, I think, that one of them felt guilt-tripped into offering me a bite. And then I said no. Crazy! Apparently they felt badly enough that they offered a bit to the next person who came by. And Alan our mechanic said yes!

We’ll be at that restaurant for breakfast. Maybe I’ll get lucky? (Because I certainly won’t be eating eggs!)

A bigger vision — a U.S.-Canada trail

Imagine the East Coast Greenway connecting to the Trans-Canada Trail, already the longest trail in the world. And there’s more.

One of the great things about these East Coast Greenway Week-a-Year tours is that you have a chance to hear what’s happening elsewhere on the 3,000-mile route and to talk with local (and sometimes state) officials.

This time, we’ve already heard about the vision to close the 110-kilometer (66-mile) gap in Canada between the East Coast Greenway and the Trans-Canada Trail, which will be completed next year to mark the Canadian sesquicentennial. That trail — a mix of road, trail and even water — stretches from the Pacific to the Atlantic and will be 24,000 kilometers (nearly 15,000 miles) long — the longest trail in the world. But when it crosses the province of New Brunswick, it’s well north of St. Stephen, the town opposite Calais. So that’s got to change.

Then we heard about an even bigger vision — to link two great national parks, one in each country, with a linear park. That would be Acadia National Park in the U.S. and Fundy National Park in Canada. The big missing pieces are two bridges on the Canadian side; otherwise the back roads, keeping you away from most of the RVs, already exist. And it would double as the connection between the East Coast Greenway and the Trans-Canada Trail.

Who knows when it will be done, but we heard support from an MP, among others. And the stars seem aligned in the sense that there is a Liberal government in charge at the national level and a Liberal government in charge at the province level.

Day 1 — 49 miles from Calais to Machias

A wonderful first day of our East Coast Greenway ride in Maine.

This was a wonderful first day of our East Coast Greenway ride in Maine — comfortable temperatures (perhaps it topped 80) and low humidity (especially compared to the heat dome we left behind). The hills were generally undulating and the uphill looked worse from the top of the previous hill than they actually were. They also seemed shorter than the ones at home and only rarely did we have to work hard in our lowest gear. The “official” estimate is we climbed 1,874 feet.

We started with a gathering of local and regional U.S. and Canadian officials near the border (more on that in another post), then headed closer for our own shot of the border. I’m glad we walked over last night because there was no way we were going to convince part of the group to wait for the others to go over and back. As it was, the American border agents didn’t take too kindly to a few of us going halfway across the bridge for a photo and then walking back — and not crossing over to go through U.S. customs. Thankfully, they said that since they had seen us, it was all OK … just don’t do it again!

Apparently they don’t take it easy during the international festival the two towns have. The parade from one side to the other? Get pre-approved if you want to do the whole thing.

This is most of the group well away from the bridge crossing, with Canada across the river. Notice the day’s uniform?

We found our welcome to Maine sign a few miles later, after we’d passed the turn-off for the last of the local crossings. The waves are to the friendly motorcyclists passing by who had also spent the night at the Calais Motor Inn.

Can someone photoshop “and bikes” to the bottom of that “open for business” slogan?

Signage was generally great — both for the East Coast Greenway and Adventure Cycling’s U.S. Bike Route 1. Our cue sheets really were more of a backup than anything else. Maine DOT has done a fabulous job!

We crossed the Down East Sunrise Trail quite a few times.

But we made the right choice — the surface is great for ATVs and snowmobilers but awfully bumpy for a cyclist. One of our Mainers told us it’s also plagued with black flies — and our few encounters with them were bad enough.

This was supposed to be a 46-mile day. Where did the other 3 come from? Two are the ride to the border and back. The third is a math mistake on the cue sheets — somehow it added just 0.2 instead of 1.2 miles for one stretch of roadway. Stuff happens. And it was no big deal.

Ready to ride!

We’ve made it to Calais. Now the biking starts.

We’ve made it to Maine — and taken the five-hour(!) ride in a school bus to Calais from Portland. I was last on a long ride in a school bus in Alaska — and before that to corn detassle as a teenager in Indiana.

But it gave us lots of time to get to know each other. One rider is from Maine (another Maine rider joined us at dinner), and another is from Florida, and the rest of us are from Pennsylvania north. There are quite a few who are on their first East Coast Greenway ride.

As we went up and down the hills on Highway 9 between Bangor and Calais, the group started wondering about Sunday’s route. We knew it would be hilly — but this hilly? Should we have come with fatter tires after all and taken the Down East Sunrise Trail, with its imperceptible 1% grade? Maybe a third of the group has planned to take the trail. One person even brought a second set of tires, so she could swap out for something more road-friendly after two days. Why didn’t we do that?

At least it’s only a 46-mile day.

The Down East Trail is the longest trail on the East Coast Greenway, at around 85 miles. The nonprofit that runs it is now finishing up an extension into Ellsworth, the gateway to Acadia National Park, and is envisioning an extension in the other direction, into the Moosehorn National Wildlife Refuge. Pull out and sell the rails to build the trail seems to be the way it’s done.

And just how isolated is this eastern part of Maine? Our bus driver said you wouldn’t take this highway in the winter because of the snow — you’d stick to the coast. He pointed out signs with the letters TWP and a number. That’s how areas of forest and or other “town without people” get identified in rural Maine. We went through an area where there used to be a lot of logging and paper mills, but there’s much less of that here. A few homes, small — small — grocery stores (think the size of a trailer), one little elementary school and lots and lots of forest and not much else, until we finally saw a sign for a proper supermarket … 7 miles away. That would be in Calais, a town of about 3,000.

And between Calais and Machias? We’re heading out with boxed lunches because there’s nowhere to buy food.

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