We posted some photos. Hard to find an internet cafe that can do everything we want to do quickly, media-wise. We'll keep trying, but you may have to wait for other than text.
Off to Acadia.
Fooooooooooogggggggg. That's what a foghorn sounds like and we're hearing plenty of them these days. We ran around Acadia NP today on the park loop road and stopped to take a "Blue Million" photos as Betsy says. They're all a little foggy as the one below of Pemaquid point because, well, because it's Maine. The temperatures that come with the fog are awesome, however, and our decision to go North looks like a great one. It does seem kind of suspicious that every time we go to a National Park, the visibility is bad. We had smoke in Glacier and now fog in Acadia. We're going to start calling each other "Smoke" and "Fog."
We did see Bass Harbor light today, a whole colony of black ducks and their young, and we got to watch a mother peregrine falcon cruising near her nest at a trail called "The Precipice." The rangers had big spotting scopes set up and we both got to see mama on the cliffs.
We have reservations in a few minutes at Maggie's for dinner then it's off to an early bed. We've already checked in and gotten our boarding passes for the CAT high-speed ferry tomorrow, so all we have to do is show up, have the ferry guys strap down the moto, and go upstairs to enjoy the view for 3 hours.
Day seven and still no laundromats: we're getting pretty good at washing stuff out. We mailed a care package home today, including an old polo shirt I brought to wear to dinner, some t-shirts we got at the Gray Ghost, and a couple books about the cat at the Inn at Camden/Rockport. It's always nice to open those memories when we get home. Well, maybe not the polo shirt.
We got kind of a hard time from Barbara the Post Office Nazi in Bar Harbor. She was a nice enough old lady, but damn was she particular about everything: at the PO back home the guy would have taped the package for us, but not Barbara. We had to buy tape. Then she gave us the third degree about the one-ounce bottle of maple syrup in the package. Fragile, perishable, liquid, yadda yadda yadda. Stamps on the box, special stickers, yadda yadda yadda. Then she wouldn't take my credit card because the signature had worn off. The damn PO pen wouldn't sign it, either, so Betsy had to give Barbara the Post Office Nazi one of her cards. How can one person be so nice and so infuriating at the same time?
Blog you later.
Mark and Betsy
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We reluctantly left Vermont and the Gray Ghost in the capable hands of Magnus and his beautiful Scandanavian tribe of women and headed across a route he gave us to Maine. No stops in New Hampshire this time save for lunch. The goal was to relive a bit of a memory for Betsy, wherein her family of (then) 9 plus their poor housekeeper rambled a total of 32 hours in a VW bus to visit a cabin in Norway, Maine. We were just two on a motorcycle and our trip wasn't nearly as long, coming as we were from Vermont, but it was interesting.
First, Maine puts up road construction signs just to make you THINK they are doing something, but they really are not. The frost heaves and potholes had me dodging like a slalom skier, except on a loaded pig of a motorcycle. A couple times I really feared for the health of the wheel rims: good thing I had plenty of air in the tires. I saw a sign that said "rough road" one time. I wonder how they can differentiate that piece from the rest of the state, but what the hell. It may have been there for years.
So, our idealistic plan was to find a little motel or cottage on the waterside of Norway Lake (what was once Pennesewassee) and spend the evening awash in memories. As most idealistic plans do, that one got blown to hell like a slow duck on opening morning. All cottages on Norway Lake rent by no less than the decade, I guess and there wasn't a motel to be found. After several false starts, we ended up checking out B&B's. One in Harrison looked promising, but the lady just didn't want to be bothered. "Maybe if you'd called ahead..." she said. Yeah, I'll just get on the bike phone.
Anyway, our good karma held out and a short trip down a side road in Bridgton, ME led us to a great place called "The Noble House." Right off Highland Lake, near the beach, and walking distance to town. Friendly Belgian Shepherd dog. Discounted queen room in the carriage house and covered parking for the bike. Innkeepers who both ride. Ding ding ding ding ding, jackpot jackpot jackpot.
More haddock than we could eat at Ken's Kove later, we were having tea and a ginger cookie with Julie the Innkeeper. After a restful night, we had crab quiche and apple pancakes for breakfast, along with Julie's "Husband-catching Banana Bread." Killer. A trip to town to mail postcards and we were on the road by the crack of...11. No worries, short day today.
Off to Portland and US Route 1 via US 302, then slog up the coast with the rest of the tourist trash. One thing I can tell you for sure: stay the hell away from Freeport, Maine. Once the quaint home of LL Bean, it's tourist-trap hell as far as we're concerned and we couldn't get through it fast enough (which was pretty slow considering all the New Yawkahs crossing the streets at will to buy whatever designer crap the outlet stores that clog the streets were offering. Gawdalmighty get us outta here.
Fortunately, we took a side trip down to Pemaquid Point on a total whim on my part (because I was pissed off at US 1 traffic) and there we got our first real taste of coastal Maine. First, the temperature, which is unseasonably hot and humid, went down 20 degrees. It was foggy in the middle of the day. Then we clambered down over the rocky coastline to see the Atlantic ceaselessly hurling itself against the unyielding rocks of Maine. That made up for the T-shirt shop from hell atmosphere of Freeport (and just about every OTHER coastal town, by the way). Pemaquid Point was a great introduction to our Maine lighthouse experience.
Back on the road, we found a little Motel between Rockport and Camden called the Strawberry Hill Inn. We knew we scored when we talked to Violet, the owner's mother, who got us a top-floor room overlooking Clam Cove. It was Pizza Night for the Byers' as we were beat and didn't want to fight the tourist crowds of Rockport OR Camden: those Adirondack chairs on the rocky beach of Clam Cove just looked so right. Dominos delivers, and fast.
Next AM, check out with the hotel owner, a fanatical gardener and it shows. Pumpkin the Inn cat even has her own kid's book and Betsy buys one for her class, with a second donated by the owner for the school library. People on this trip never cease to amaze us.
We went to Stonington today on the way to Bar Harbor. It's on a neat loop down past Deer Isle, across a bridge and a causeway, and where the ferry leaves for Isle au Haut. Neat place, but the freakin' lunch was expensive since they have to cart everything but the lobstahs a long way. Very rustic, but not without its T-shirt shops.
Baaaaaaaah Haaaaabah was next and traffic was a bit beastly, but we arrived around 4:30 to our neat little B&B called "Aysgarth Station." The proprietress is British and she, her guy, and their 3 cats run the place. It's walking distance to everything. We walked down the the harbor, dinnered at an unremarkable place with a great waitress, and now we're blogging you up at an internet cafe over hot chocolates and a latte.
Tomorrow is Acadia day, then Thursday we depart on the high-speed catamaran ferry for Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. Let you know how it goes tomorrow, but no promises on regular updates from there since we have absolutely no idea where we're going in NS except North. Blog you later.
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Our second day on the road was a record for Betsy: 351 miles and 8 hours of riding time from Fogelsville, PA to West Dover, VT. It was threatening a lot of the day, but Betsy's mojo kept the rain away until just a couple miles short of our destination.
The Gray Ghost Inn on VT 100 in West Dover, VT is an amazing place! We knew it would be cool when we were greeted by 3 black labs: that's a lot of Lab lovin'! Magnus and Carina Thorssen and their children are awesome hosts and we had a great night (and morning) at a great Vermont Inn. Magnus made us some incredible blueberry pancakes for breakfast Sunday morning, served with VT maple syrup and local bacon/sausage. But I get ahead of myself.
Yesterday's long ride was the result of our late start Friday and not being able to get as far into PA as we'd hoped. We were coming to terms with packing the new bike, but we did fine. We went through Rhinebeck, NY, but didn't get to do the Aerodrome since we were in a bit of a push to get to VT. As soon as we hit VT 100, however, it was worth the ride! We did get a little Connecticut and Massachusetts time in, however. The Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, MA looks interesting.
Our dinner at 2 Tannery Road (walking distance from the Gray Ghost) was tremendous and well worth the ride itself. I had a thing called the "Nutty Vermonter" that was great and Betsy had a broiled halibut on a bed of polenta that was equally fine, all washed down with a good Spanish wine of Tempranillo grapes. I will not mention the chocolate dessert...
Today, day 3, we got a late start due to Magnus' pancakes and the need to play with Emma and Sofia, two of his beautiful daughters with ice-blue eyes and blond hair. Emma is going into 2nd grade and that happens to be Mrs. Byers' stock in trade, so a good time was had by all. Emma made a complete set of utensils for Jolly, our Aerostich puppet, out of clay, so Jolly decided to stay with Emma and Sofia. I think he waved goodbye when we left, but I'm not sure because he was helping four-year-old Sofia with a dead frog and the hunt for the pet snake, Billy Bob.
In an internet cafe in Ossippee, NH on the way to Norway, ME to relive an old vacation memory for Betsy at Lake Pennesewassee (Lake Norway now I think). Blog you later...
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