We stay at our current lodging (Bethel Village Inn) for the next two days; and earlier we rode through three states, east coast states are smaller. After arriving, John and I walked to the town’s memorial center, every town seems to have one.
“Some people live an entire lifetime and wonder if they have ever made a difference in the world. A veteran doesn’t have that problem “. – Ronald Reagan
Those memorable words are inscribed below the names of soldiers and sailors from the areas who have given their lives for their country from the revolutionary war to the present.
I would have liked to have said that today we woke up at dawn and with a bone in our teeth, and a song in our hearts as we rapidly sped off to the coast of Portland Maine, to eat lobsta’ rolls for both breakfast and lunch.
Maine is known for both lighthouses and freshly caught lobsters. The temperature outside was a brisk 50 degrees with a 109% chance of rain. The Innkeeper drove us over to a local cafe and dropped us off. After breakfast we called him and he picked us up. Some of the entertaining stories he shared was skipping school at eight years of age and going to a baseball game with his mother. When a certain batter scored a home run she began crying and told him she only loved two men in her whole life, his father and the one that just scored a home run.
Yesterday before I could amend my words about our fractured decision making process when it comes to food, we again gathered in a semi circle while holding hands and sang another kumbaya song. The local nuns would be proud. And then all was good with the ride group. Shortly thereafter, we celebrated by walking to a local pub in the basement of a historic home. We drank copious amounts of the local brew and ate appetizers. Just behind our table was a table full of Appalachian trail thru-hikers. A guy carrying an overweight backpack caught my attention. Before long we spread all kinds of joyful trail magic, laughing up a storm about the mere joys of being alive and living life to the fullest.
The young guy was from Scotland and the woman from Florida. The Appalachian Trail, often referred to as the A.T., is an iconic long-distance hiking trail which runs for approximately 2,200 miles between Springer Mountain, Georgia and Mount Katahdin, Maine in the American East. People come from all over the world to hike it. Some like these guys started almost two thousand miles away.
From the pub we gathered up our foolish selves and walked right over to a Korean-Sushi place in a historic home and ate to our hearts content. It was either the Japanese mule, the sake or the kumbaya song that worked its magic on all of us because, this morning the day started off right.
“I can see clearly now the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way,
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind,
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
Oh, yes I can make it now the pain (in my ribs) is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for. It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
On a road not worthy of description we arrived in Portland to view our first Maine lighthouse. The roads suddenly all went to crap. Everywhere huge potholes and manhole covers sunk way in; a motorcycles worse nightmare. And in the downtown area; a beautiful park nearby was full of both Canadian geese and the homeless. Both coexisting in the same vicinity.
If I were homeless I can assure you that there would be geese on the daily menu. In the olden days and part of Americana history Lobsters were considered the “poor man’s chicken” and primarily used to fed the prisoners and slaves.
Some indentured servants even revolted against being forced to eat lobster. The colony agreed that they would not be fed lobster meat more than three times a week.
Soon all we could think of was a lobster roll. An hour later we arrive in Woolwich at the best Maine seafood house this side of the bridge. A sandwich of lobster will set you back $39.00.
After getting set back $39 for a sandwich and a $10.00 cup of French onion soup I could feel the rain in the air. The others proceeded on while I beat feet back to the Village Inn.
About thirty miles from the Village Inn the skies suddenly opened up to this perfect combination of ice, rain, hail and freezing temperatures all rolled into one plus road construction traffic whereby, one lane goes and then another. My iPhone held up in the rain until about five miles from arriving. back. I’m sure it will be a long while before the others arrive. Luckily I recognized the area and made it to a warm room.
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