Sunday May 11 – Saturday May 17, 2003
Kenny, Myko & Me
The Route:
We started our day by taking the 7am Port Jefferson ferry on what appeared to be a perfect day. It’s about an hour from Port Jefferson to the other side of the sound in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
Our intention for this day is to make the full push from Bridgeport to Kenny’s parents place in Maine. It’s is a trip that easily doable in a single day.
Our first first stretch across Connecticut should only be about an hour or so up RT 8. It was smooth, sunshiny sailing all the way.
As we were rolling along, we saw an unmarked cop car on the other side of the highway ticketing someone. We drop the pace slightly and press on. Not 5 minutes passed and in my mirrors I saw a set of headlights gaining on us in a hurry. We got buzzed by the same unmarked car going well over 100mph. He headed off out of sight.
My spider senses were tingling. I KNEW he is going to be waiting for us… and he was. Luckily we were shielded by an 18-wheeler as we passed him on the right hand shoulder on a sweeping turn. Sneaky. I snickered to myself in my helmet and thought, score 1 for us.
Massachusetts gave us a nice treat called route 8. It snaked along next to a small river. Ess turns on new feeling pavement, shaded by trees and framed sweetly with the flowing water. It set my smile firmly in place.
We boogie on through Massachusetts and into Vermont, the air feeling fantastic. We happened through this town. (Pfft, how juvenile.)
Village. Um…ok. I didn’t see any cannibals or pots boiling with dancing villagers. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t there!
We arrived in Vermont in no time at all. It’s funny when you look at a map and see a twisty road and get excited about it. You forget about road surfaces. In my mind, a 2 lane major roadway on the map that rolls through the mountains always has a smooth finish. Enter Vermont Route 100. Frost heave city. Bumps galore. Oh well. My spirit were still high. The Ohlins on my bike rules 🙂
Lunch break at Dot’s in VT. Myko gets caught off guard.
The guys are jealous of my expert packing skills. I have a weeks worth of stuff creatively stowed in my tank bag. I bought pre-packed cotton Ts, socks and underwear. They packed vertically very small and neatly. A single pair of jeans & sneakers and toiletries. I was able to just throw out the undies as I wore them and discarded anything I didn’t need as I used it. I ended up coming home with less than I left with. We stayed at a place that we were able to do laundry in so it worked out great.
I had never seen a moose in person. While we ate at Dot’s the waitress who gave me a flower as it was Mother’s Day, had mentioned Moose being out and about. In my naiveté I thought that it would be so cool to see one. I later found out, I really didn’t want to see one while I was riding. They’re frickin’ HUGE when they cross the road in front of you.
Somewhere in Anytown USA in Vermont.
As we sat here, the rain started. We pulled out our rainsuits and pressed on hoping that it would subside. After about an hour, it did. Little did we know, this rain was just the beginning.
You can’t really tell by the photo, but the lean angle for my bike on its sidestand was severe enough that I had to have one of the fellas move it to a more level ground so that I could lean it up off of the stand. I feel dumb even typing that.
Ahoy Matey! Captain Crudmop says we be a hearty lot.
Lincoln, New Hampshire after we pass through the Kancamagus Highway. Steady rain. Temps dropping sharply After Kenny’s rain suit disintegrated over the Kanc, I shared my rainsuit with him – he had perforated pants. Pouring rain, 40 degree temps and holes in your pants don’t work very well.
We could have never imagined the weather we would experience as we pulled away from that gas station where the Captain joked. We went on to spend the next 200 miles in soaking rain, fog, frogs and 40 degree temperatures all the way.
Shivering, aching, plagued by darkness. My suburban mind didn’t factor in all the places that do not have streetlights. There were none to be had from New Hampshire and across our route to Maine.
A layer of fog clung quietly to the ground. The rain tap, tap, tapped steadily for hours on my helmet.
Me & Myko, warming up by the fire outside of the house.
The moon over the lake at Kenny’s. A rare break in the clouds for this trip.
Off to Bar Harbor… or maybe not.
When we set off for Bar Harbor, the skies just look sorta, cloudy but not really threatening. Of course, that means rain. We stopped off in Freedom, Maine.
This mom & pop gas station provided us with some shelter. I got some coffee to warm up and wait out the rain. I opt for the French Vanilla, in which the French was crossed out on the dispenser and replaces with ‘Freedom’. Freedom Vanilla coffee.
Acadia National Park
Cadillac Mountain near Bar Harbor