Over the Hill and Far Away……….

First of all let me wish you a happy birthday, America – 238 today and still looking pretty good.

We set off early this morning in the hopes of avoiding the rain. Yesterday’s estimate of 60 miles or so to cover was, in fact, wildly over-optimistic and the distance turned out to be over 140 miles in total. We travelled down Highway 3 which had signs marking it as an “evacuation route”. Mark assumed that this was must be pointing to where the nearest public toilets were located. There were quite a lot of people on the streets enjoying the holiday  and in Searsport we saw a convoy of fire trucks which were presumably on their way to join a parade somewhere. 

We later joined the Interstate 95 just before Augusta (the state capital). During the journey we passed through or by, Belfast, Palermo, Lisbon and China, giving it the feel of a bit of a world trip. 

The rain held off until towards the end of the journey. It did start to get rather wet then, although the big windscreens of the bikes seem to keep a lot of the rain off, so apart from the spray from passing trucks it wasn’t too bad. The worst part was the lack of visibility as the windscreens don’t have wipers and quickly become very difficult to see through. Fortunately the roads were reasonably quiet at this point and it was possible to ride with eyes closed for much of the time.

Our hotel, the rather quaintly named “Fireside Inn and Suites”, was just off the highway as we got to Portland and was thus very easy to find. It is a newish  budget hotel and conference centre but it does have a fireplace in the lobby with which to justify its name. On arrival we were presented with two rather alarming looking complimentary confections called “Whoopie Pies”! In fact “Whoopsie Pies” might have been more appropriate as they rather resembled turds filled with industrial solvent masquerading as cream. The receptionist’s corporate mask slipped for a second when she admitted that she didn’t like them either, before she hastily qualified that with the assurance that most people do! However once we had recovered from the welcome, the hotel itself is very well equipped and comfortable and even has a largish swimming pool and a bar (neither of which we have used). 

Once we had arrived, unpacked and binned the Whoopie pies, we called a taxi and set off into Portland. We started at the Great Lost Bear which I have always wanted to visit as it features in several “Maine Noire” novels that I have enjoyed. We got there just before 3 and the place was packed but within half an hour of our arrival it emptied out – which may say something about our personal hygiene as there seemed to be no other apparent explanation for the exodus. 

After a couple of beers in the Bear we got another taxi over the the waterfront where we ate yet another seafood meal in DiMillo’s restaurant, which is a converted car ferry moored at a wharf in the downtown district. By now the rain was pouring down and it’s still coming down heavily now (at 10pm). It seems to have dampened the 4th July celebrations a bit, particularly the fireworks, although it has brought more people out into the town bars and restaurants whereas they would tend to be celebrating with barbecues at home if the weather was better.   We’re just hoping that it has cleared before tomorrow morning when we set off for Portsmouth in New Hampshire. At least it is really only 60 miles or so tomorrow which should be manageable so long as Hurricane Arthur keeps away!

Having spent yesterday evening with a couple of contacts of Mark who share his commitment to both education and fine wine, we faced the day with rather less enthusiasm than usual. This was not helped by leaden skies that promised rain at some stage of the day. The weather forecast was equally gloomy, suggesting that we might be sandwiched between a thunder storm and the tail-end of an incoming hurricane. 

My spirits were lifted slightly when, on leaving the hotel, I was  accosted by a lady who asked me if I was the owner of the Indian. She then went on to say that her husband had just been admiring it (please note that this admiration was not apparently extended to the other bike in our party).  I am now beginning to realise that I am riding a middle-aged-man-magnet – a concept that I must admit I am not entirely comfortable with.

Anyway we set off into the face of some very unpromising weather to cover the 80 miles or so to the border crossing at St Stephen/Calais. However about 50 miles down the road the skies began to clear and by the time we reached the border it was sunny and hot again with the bike thermometer reading temperatures in the 90s. The crossing went reasonably smoothly, with Mark sailing through his customary strip search. The officer dealing with me was pleasant and courteous but seemed in no hurry to let me through and I became uncomfortably aware that, as time went on, I was starting to exhibit a lot of the signs that might be associated with someone who had something to hide! However eventually we both got through and sadly waved farewell to the land of Canaan Bog and Crapaud, the lumberjack shirt and the maple leaf and of course the friends who have been so hospitable to us on this trip.

The ride down through Maine was very pleasant as the rain held off and the temperatures stayed high. The speed limit was 55 but this was fine as we were in no hurry and the bikes actually seem happiest at about that speed. We passed through numerous pretty villages, including Cherryfield, which describes itself as the “Blueberry Capital of the World” and even seemed to have a blueberry-themed play area and a giant walk-in blueberry to prove the point.

We travelled along Highway 1 which is the coastal highway. It has been superseded by other roads now but originally ran 2400 miles from Key West in Florida up the east coast to the Canadian border. However Maine is another place that is not short of the odd tree or two so although we were riding along near the ocean we could only catch the odd glimpse of it through occasional breaks in the forest. 

After about 4 hours and 180 miles or so we arrived at the “Twilite Home for the Bewildered Motel” which describes itself as a “mom and pop”  place except that it transpired that Mom has recently taken off to visit her daughter who’s just had twins, leaving Pop to deal with the holiday rush. Pop immediately endeared himself to us by admiring the Indian and waxing lyrical about how crap Harleys are (although he confessed that he would never say that to anyone American)! He was also able to recommend a good lobster restaurant that was within walking distance (albeit about a mile away at the bottom of a steep hill). 

We have therefore just been into town and first had a couple of beers at an Irish pub (which was easy to find as it was bravely displaying the Irish tricolour amidst a sea of stars and stripes).  We then went on to eat a vast selection of crustaceans and shellfish whilst watching fish jumping in the Union River which runs just by the restaurant.

All in all it’s been a pretty good day and we are now back at the motel relaxing and contemplating an early night. Mark has already been practicing his snoring and is promising a virtuoso performance which will raise the roof later.

Tomorrow we are going to Portland which is only about 60 miles down the coast so we’re hoping for an easy ride and lots of time to explore the place.