Bicycling Maine and New Hampshire

In Another Pine Forest
Aug. 8, `82

Yesterday was good. Rain slowed me down in the afternoon, but not too
much. Maine is a beautiful state; I expected it to be so, but it’s
extra nice to actually experience it that way. I have been traveling
on secondary roads. Biking is always better that way, except on
grades. The inclines tend to be a bit steeper.

Last night I passed a cottage on a lake where a party was going on.
I heard a voice call out, “come on over and have a beer.” Under the late afternoon sun,  I enjoyed the company of a group of boys, or perhaps men (a couple of them had
their children and wives with them) I guessed they had been partying all day. One particular dude got uptight when I wouldn’t smoke the dope that he
passed my way and then I knew that it was time to leave. To set the record
straight, it’s been years since I gobbled down pills or smoked
anything more potent than campfire smoke. I bid my new found friends
adieu, and hit the road. A little while later, I took my cucumber and
honey sandwiches across the highway from where I set up my camp, and
watched the last of the red sun sink into the trees on the other side
of the lake—nice!

I expect to make quite a few miles today. It’s already sunny and hot
with every sign of turning hotter.

Aug. 9

I’m sitting in a breezeway of a house that is in need of repair. If
nobody saw me bring my bike up behind the house I’m safe; otherwise,
before I finish this writing the local militia will probably be here
to put matters straight. This house is uninhabited and for sale.

Yesterday was hot and sunny — fantastic. Bicycling through Maine was
like riding down the Redwood Highway in California, only with smaller
trees. New Hampshire was beautiful also. It would have been nice to
bicycle through the mountains– maybe next time; even these hills are
not pushovers. Around 6 pm it clouded over. I was lucky, though,
just before the rain, I managed a pretty good camp on quick notice.
It was in another pine forest, but this one was on rocky terrain. It
rained all night. In fact, it never quit raining. That’s why I’m
sitting in this breezeway where I’m not supposed to be.

To make matters worse, I’m having problems getting money. My Prestige
credit card is not working. Banks in this area won’t recognize it. I
have $30 left and, if I am to get more money, my only alternative (or
at least the most convenient one) is to head south to Albany, New
York. I’m sure I can get money there, but unfortunately I will not be
able to bicycle through the Adirondacks, which is what I really wanted
to do.

It’s raining again, and it’s nice to be inside. It looks like I’ll
be safe. All I need now is a shower and some clean clothes, perhaps
tomorrow.

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About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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