I decided to go on the Moosa and Lighthouse trips after meeting Steve Bell on the Florida Safari in April. He was very convincing that I would enjoy riding through Maine and Canada. Several friends I had met on the 1996 Santa Fe Trail ride were also going. I sent email to my friend Gill in London to see if she could escape to Maine for a week or so. That accomplished, the trip neared.
I'll learn in the future to call before going to the airport when there has been a plane crash at the airport I am scheduled to fly in to. My flight was cancelled, but I didn't discover that until I arrived at the airport laden with luggage. :( After 40 minutes of phone calls, I had a new schedule to get me to Bangor, via Houston and Boston.
I arrived (after much hassle) in Bangor at 8:00 a.m. Since the shuttle wasn't scheduled to arrive until 12:30 p.m., I had lots of time to wander around the airport looking for other Moosites. They appeared after a few hours and soon a small knot of cyclists were gathered outside the airport terminal, except for the couple from Hawaii who were sleeping upstairs. I was checking every arriving flight looking for Gill. She had flown in from England and we had originally been booked on the same flight to Bangor. That flight had been cancelled. I didn't know where she was, or even if she had made it to the U.S. I was a bit worried. Being on the move for the last 24 hours myself, I had no way to reach her. I knew she was resourceful, but I'd feel better if I knew she had at least arrived in the U.S.
All worries were laid to rest when Steve arrived with the shuttle. He loaded us into the vans and our bicycles were packed into the cargo trailer. I was really tired and probably not too coherent. "We've lost Gill." Steve reassured me that Gill was somewhere on the East Coast and would be in on a later flight. Whew - one major concern alleviated.
The drive to Skowhegan is blurry. I really wanted to take a nap but tried to stay awake to talk and look at the scenery. I'm not certain that my conversation skills were very good. I don't even remember who was on the shuttle. (Sorry gang.) We drove through countryside that vaguely reminded me of northern Florida (hey, it was green). I was told by the Floridians that Maine looks nothing like Florida, but to this west coaster, they look similar.
We arrived at the camp and unloaded our gear. I wandered around looking for friends who were supposed to be on the trip - By, "Gator" and Jan from Florida, Virginia Jerry, and Gill. I had a pleasant surprise as several other friends were there who I didn't know where coming. "Share-a-soda" Bob (from Sarasota, Florida) had been the driving force to get me through a century ride on the Florida Safari. We used to split a coke after our rides, hence the nickname. Bill from Illinois (he has *great* calves), and Lou was there! Lou is from Alabama. We had met on the Santa Fe ride last September. Our contact had been reduced to exchanging a few postcards during the past year. I heard that she was going to do part of the Santa Fe trip again and I was trying to figure out how to get to Santa Fe for a day or so just to see her. No need now, she was in Maine! This was going to be a great two weeks.
In typical Susan style, I had packed in a hurry and didn't have everything I needed for the trip. I couldn't find my groundsheet when I packed, so By drove me to a paint store in town to buy something suitable. At the store, I asked the man if they had dropcloths. He said they did, but they were too thin. He had a heavier piece of plastic that was 6' x 25'! I told him it was too big. "How about a top?" he said. "A top?" I'm thinking. A top to what? I was reluctant to ask him what the top went to. He took me to another part of the store. "A top should work fine." Then he pulled out a bright blue plastic TARP. Perfect! And I was sooo glad I hadn't asked what the top went to. Gotta love those accents! My "top" worked out just fine - even when I used it as a bottom for the tent.
By and I then went to the Old Mill Pub along the river. I couldn't get over how beautiful the river was - it actually had quite a bit of water in it! Very unlike the cement channels that we call rivers in Southern California. After a nice pint of Pale Ale, we headed back to camp.
It rained that evening and I awoke at dawn to a lovely red sunrise. I was to see many more sunrises on this trip. :| We packed up for a 6:30 departure (probably the earliest I ever started off the entire trip). A quick stop at the bicycle shop for some tools and a browse, then it was off to breakfast. We ate a filling meal, talked with other cyclists and generally kept the entire restaurant entertained. This was to become a common pattern as the trip progressed. I doubt any town, village or restaurant failed to notice our presence. The group was quite chatty.
Steve had mentioned that the first day was the toughest. I believed him. (More on THAT later.) So I tried to ride at a comfortable pace. There were a lot of hills that first day. There were a lot of hills *every day*. People fanned out and found others to ride with. I spent most of the day riding with By, while Gill (the speed demon) rode with Bill. Gill has always been a strong rider. Everyone knows that except Gill! She had just ridden 417K in 23:59 the previous month. So there weren't great expectations to spend much time riding with her. This could be a good trip for her to discover how good a rider she really is.
True to form, I forgot my map. It was packed away with my clothes. So I was following the road markings and other cyclists. I ended up riding most of both trips without maps. Once I figured out Steve's logic about placement, it was fairly easy to follow the route. A few times the markings were in odd places, IMO, which seemed to indicate that the markings had been placed at a different time. But I never got lost, so they had to be pretty good.
I had taken a fall on my last bicycle trip and had broken my computer. I didn't get around to replacing it before this trip, so a map only told me how far I had come and where the restaurants were. The bikes parked outside of stores also told me where food was. Some days I didn't want to know how far I had ridden.
We were riding along through some nice country, appreciating the fine vistas, the cool weather and the wildlife for most of the day. On a small uphill, my rear pannier need adjustment. I stopped at the side of the road across from a rest stop. Gill suggested that we cross the road and stop in the rest area. It turned out to be a good decision, as the snack stop was there! I had failed to see the vans, the bikes or the people through the trees. I was rather hungry and so the ubiquitous peanut butter/jelly/banana sandwich tasted great! The bread had little ears on it, so we nicknamed our snack "Mickey Moose" sandwiches. (That's what you get when you take a bunch of Floridians to Maine.)
There were loons on the river near our stop. They are lovely birds, with black heads and red eyes. You could hear them calling now and again. This confirmed the fact that I wasn't in California. We also found an interesting sign near the trash cans "For your health, no trash picking". A heated discussion followed to determine if this was meant for people or if the raccoons in Maine were literate. I don't think we ever reached a conclusion on that topic.
After chatting with other riders and the support folks, we pressed on. The weather was overcast. We saw a stuffed moose head on display outside a shop and some roadkill, but no moose. Well, this is only the first day. There should be plenty of time to find moose on this trip.
More climbing and fast downhills. We passed riders and they passed us back. The scenery was still forest. We saw moose wallows but no moose. Up and down, on and on. I'm starting to get tired. I didn't have enough time to get into condition before this trip started. Too much to do at work. I knew that going in but unless I just bagged the entire trip it was too late now. Finally, I spot the yellow letters saying "the last hill". At the top of the hill there was a gift store and currency exchange. We were heading into Canada tomorrow and Steve had suggested that we exchange money here. Oops, I had also packed my cash in with my clothes. Oh well, I'll just find an ATM in Canada. I browsed around the store, marvelling at what was sold and some of the clever displays. Have you ever seen a 50 lb stuffed beaver? It was fat. I wanted to buy a small loon for my bicycle. No luck. I thought about buying a little moose, but loons had caught my fancy. I was really tempted to get a cup of coffee. Since we were close to camp so I decided to wait. I was feeling the effects of lack of sleep and too much exercise.
The town of Jackman, Maine is pretty much a company town. The train pulling the dozens of sulfuric acid tanks was my first clue. There was that scent of wood pulp. It was misty by the time we reached camp and started to set up tents. Then it started to drizzle. Hmm, I don't camp in the rain in California (since it rarely rains in the summer or fall). I wonder if my tent is waterproof?? Guess I'm about to find out.
Dinner that evening was served in the school. Spaghetti. It was good and the cafeteria style seating allowed us to meet some new people and visit with friends. Don was telling riddles that kept several of us occupied for a few days. I enjoy the meals where everyone is in the same room. It provides an opportunity to meet others and start to recognize new faces.
After dinner a small group of us wandered over to a little store. I still wanted coffee. While searching the shelves to see what was there, I discovered some granola bars that I had seen in Kansas on the Santa Fe Trip. They were excellent and only $.25 I had brought one back to California to see if they were sold there. No luck. So in a moment of absolute overindulgence, I grabbed 10 to use as snacks. I was still searching for coffee, so I left my stack of bars near the register and asked the cashier to watch them for me.
One of the guys on the trip saw my horde and tried to buy them. The cashier saved the day. So Sam bought all the bars left on the shelf. (He confessed later that he had tried to buy my bars.) So, if any of you didn't get granola bars in Jackman it's because Sam bought them all!!
It rained off and on during the night. My tent was damp in the morning when it came time to pack. We had a reasonably early start and rode a few miles before stopping for breakfast. The small restaurant was packed with cyclists (no surprise) and we joined By, Bill and a few others at the trucker's table. Luckily, no truckers came in while we were eating. We talked, told the riddles to any newcomers who wanted to hear them and drank coffee. After an hour or so, we finally started off through the hills to the border. It was overcast again and there was forest bordering the road. By and I stopped at a dirt road leading to a cemetery. We rode our bicycles along the dirt road to the little cemetery. It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The graves were mainly from the late 1800s and early 1900s, surrounded by a low stone wall and the metal gate was locked. Kind of strange when there doesn't appear to be anyone around for miles.
On our way back out, we met Jane. She was riding alone and was walking up the road rather than riding. We found it funny that we were on road bikes while Jane had left her hybrid to walk. We chatted for a while then left to continue our ride. Jane was from Georgia and soon became one of the group. She was always cheerful and was content to ride alone or with others.
When we hit the border the entire flavor of the trip seemed to change. For the guys it probably started with the border guard. :) She was very nice. After showing my driver's license, I was allowed to cross into Quebec. Suddenly, the sun came out. The fields were well tended, flowers adorned houses. And the signs along side the road no longer had pictures of moose but of deer. I still hadn't seen a moose (though later I discovered that several people had seen fresh moose roadkill that morning. Uggg.) The roads were rolling. The hillsides were the foundation for picturesque villages. Life was wonderful! I was really enjoying this trip. The downhills were wonderful. I was singing and shouting and smiling.
At a small cafe along the road, I spotted Gill's bicycle. There were a bunch of other cyclists there. I suddenly remembered that I didn't have any Canadian money with me so I guess I'm not getting anything to eat just yet. Share-a-soda Bob had his video camera out catching everyone on film. "Great helmet hair! " Thanks, Bob. It was one of those pleasurable moments - everyone was happy and the scenery was lovely.
We rode on through more villages, past small farms and pretty houses where people were actually sitting on their porches. I was waving at everyone I saw. Almost everyone waved back. A far cry from some other areas I have ridden through. I was amazed at how many people we saw outside in Canada. I often ride through areas in the States where you see about 1 person every 5 miles. In Quebec, about half the houses had people in the yard or sitting on the porch. Perhaps it was due to the magnificent weather.
The snack van was my next destination. I wanted some gatorade, so while the others stopped at a little restaurant to eat I went on ahead looking for the van. It was parked along the river on the far side of town. As I pulled in, Vince was offering peanut and jelly sandwiches to us. What service! Somehow we got into a discussion of whether or not women ate more jelly on their sandwiches than men. It became quite amusing as both Vince and I were trying to prove our point. One guy asked for more jelly and Vince said he was an outlyer and had to be thrown out. I then discovered that when a woman stopped to get a sandwich, Vince asked if she wanted more jelly. A biased survey, if you ask me. ;)
While I enjoyed the view, drank gatorade and tried to engage others into this highly philosophical discussion, Meghan and Steve rode up on their tandem. There were several tandems on the trip. And many of the stokers were under 18. (Can this be considered child abuse??) Meghan is a neat kid. She is kind of shy and so it took a while before she got into the joking around. I think that this trip would have been very difficult for the kids. The days were long and once we got into camp there wasn't much to do but talk. (Though we did find the occasional diversion.)
We camped that night in a field near "Le Grand Tour". 2000 cyclists riding through Quebec on a 7 day trip. The only problem - the Moosa group didn't speak very much french. People kept talking to me and I could only reply with simple words or in spanish. It was odd, when I was taking spanish lessons in Baja earlier this year, I remembered a ton of french. Now that I was trying to speak french, I could only remember spanish! Someone must have an explanation for this phenomena. (I'm seriously thinking about doing Le Grand Tour next year. It would be really interesting to ride with french speaking riders.) Our lime green wrist bands came in quite handy to help determine whom I could talk to about the next day's ride. The Grand Tour riders wore a tan band.
Most of the tents were setup on a football field within arm's reach of each other. I wanted a bit of isolation (so I could sleep later) so I joined a small group on a little ridge and claimed the land for the crown. "Which crown?" Alan asked. I had a picked a spot near the Barr family - Alan, Pam and Ewan. They live in Glasgow and at 10.5 years Ewan had quite the accent. Alan and Pam were from England originally. They were doing both trips, with Ewan the stoker on the tandem with Alan. Pam had a mountain bike - circa 1985. During the days to come, I would spend a lot of time riding with them and visiting. Ewan was good fun to talk with. We sometimes had difficulty understanding what he said, but he was always willing to repeat it. His classic remark "Pedal harder" (which sounded more like "Ped A Ar Da") was to become a greeting when passing people on the hills.
Since we had gotten in at a reasonable hour, we decided to ride out to see the covered bridge. It was hot and I was tired but when you are a tourist...
First I tried to negotiate with Steve to get a van to drive us. That failed and so we got back on the bicycles. The road out was slightly uphill and we had a headwind. I was ready to pack it in, when we saw Don returning with a group of cyclists. Actually the bridge was very nice. We did our best to decipher the plaque (in French) at the bridge telling it's history. The bridge was 70 years old. Not bad. Another visitor translated it for us. Our version wasn't too far off the mark.
I was tired from all the riding and the heat. The weather was hotter than I had anticipated. On the way back we decided to stop in town and eat *before* riding up the steep hill back to camp. A good decision. We ran into Harriet, By, Bob, Gator, Jan and Bill drinking beer. They offered us some beer and invited us to have dinner with them. I still didn't have any Canadian money, and I was a bit concerned about how much money I had been spending. At first I didn't want to go, but after looking at the huge selection of food, I gave in. We ate at a buffet that had everything from pizza, roast beef, and shrimp to chinese specialities. I didn't think I was hungry until I started to eat. I packed away a lot of calories that evening!!
Gill was game to ride her bike back to camp. I walked up the steep hills.
I'd eaten a lot and I wasn't eager to get back on my bicycle just yet.
We stood around and chatted with some of the others for a while on our
return. I did take an informal poll of who had seen a moose. A couple
of people had seen a cow and calf, and one guy claimed he had seen a moose
rump. But his description was weak, so I didn't count it as an official
sighting. Then I heard about the moose roadkill. Glad I missed that one!
Official Moose count: 2 alive/1 dead/1 suspect
MOOSA Part 2
MOOSA Part 3