5th July – Portsmouth, New Hampshire

We awoke reasonably early this morning and had time for a leisurely breakfast, which was somewhat spoilt for me by my mistaking custard for mayonnaise and liberally spreading it on my egg. 

On checking out Mark actually had the cheek to complain about the smell in our room this morning (although in fairness the stench was even more fetidly evil than usual – due apparently to the damp weather and the total lack of ventilation). 

We also bumped into a member of staff who was yet another Indian fan and started rambling on about the merits of American bikes. It was just after him saying that his favourite “bike” was a three-wheeler with two wheels at the front that Mark finally snapped. By the time I pulled Mark away, the other guy wasn’t looking too good so we hid him under a pile of towels and swiftly rode out. 

As we had plenty of time we decided to take Highway 1 down the coast rather than the faster but less interesting Interstate 95 that runs parallel slightly further inland. We consequently found ourselves in a 40-mile holiday traffic jam which crawled through the main streets and traffic lights of several coastal towns. We passed through Scarborough and Biddeford before stopping off in Kennebunk. The Bush family have a holiday home at Kennebunkport which is nearby but closer to the coast. We looked out for them but they didn’t seem to be about. Kennebunk itself is a long-established prosperous community which appears to have rather more banks, doctors and lawyers than would appear to be strictly necessary for a town that size. It also boasts some interesting houses dating back to the 1700s. There is also the “Brick Store Museum” which we conjectured might be a museum dedicated to bricks but were disappointed to find is in fact a museum that just happens to be located in one of the first local buildings to be built out of brick.

While in Kennebunk we also noticed a lot of police and fire trucks passing through with sirens sounding.

After leaving there we continued to make very slow progress through pretty little towns like Wells where a plethora of antique shops vie for attention with numerous craft shops and small businesses with twee names like “Brewed Awakening” (a coffee shop). There was about the same volume of traffic coming the other way with a large number of hairy, grizzled individuals on the inevitable Harleys, all of whom were probably lawyers, dentists and realtors out for their weekend ride. They tended to ignore us, and we them, although occasionally one would throw a sneaky last-minute low five which left us feeling guilty when we hadn’t had time to respond!

The traffic finally started to clear about 40 miles out of Portland around a place called Ogunquit but just after there we found out where all the emergency vehicles had been going, as we were diverted round a fairly nasty crash scene. It looked like one car had crashed at speed into the back of another but fortunately there was no sign that there had been any serious injuries. We did however feel probably more uneasy on this ride than on any other as, despite the slow speed, people seemed to be driving more aggressively and carelessly than usual.  

We eventually arrived in Portsmouth at 1.50pm having taken nearly three hours to cover 55 miles. However the weather had been kind to us and the ride hadn’t been too bad apart from the constant stopping and starting . We both also now have bulging left biceps from constantly squeezing the clutch lever.

We checked into our hotel and then walked  down the road a short way to a bar-restaurant where we washed the dust from our throats and engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat with two of the largest sandwiches we have ever seen. We are now about to get a taxi into town to have a look around. It is possible that the consumption of beer and seafood may also be on the agenda.