Shortly after 7 am this morning, Jodi and I completed our last five miles of the Northern Tier, having bicycled more than 4,000 miles across the North American continent. We walked slowly and purposefully down to the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean where the seawater lapped up over the rear tire of our bicycles, signalling the easternmost point of our journey. Bar Harbor was stirring to life behind the sea wall above us, greeting a new Sunday, a new day for rest, for contemplation, for faith and for dreams.
Our ending was very much like our beginning, a small, humble embrace of salt water that resounded only with the calling of seabirds, the caress of the wind and the gentle warmth of the rising sun.
To all of you, we are profoundly thankful for your support, your prayers, your words of kindness. Dream big and dream often. Walk through fields of wildflowers and watch honeybees leave trails in the sky. Sink your toes into seashells on the beach and wish upon shooting stars. Love one another and extend kindness when you are affronted. Remember the preciousness of every day and the promise in the rising sun. Know that just as the changing tide erases and cleans, so too do we have endless opportunity for rebirth.
The tent was completely dry when I took it down. Matt had already started to mix his coffee and carnation breakfast drink, when I handed him the cinnamon muffin. “Happy Birthday!” I said cheerfully. He said thanks. We looked over the maps and thought it might be too long of a day to try and push to Bar Harbor. At this point we hadn’t had much luck reserving a camp spot and so the smart thing to do would be to try and get to the town outside of Bar Harbor like Ellsworth or Trenton and finish on Sunday. The only birthday gift I could give Matt at this point, was a hike up a mountain. Before we left, I told him I wanted to hike Mount Battie. As we biked to the trail head, the option could be bike to the top or hike the 1.6 miles through a blue blazed trail. I said I could go either way, and Matt opted for us to hike. The trail was full of roots and rocks and within the first 500 feet we had to climb on logs that immediately brought me back to the rugged terrain of the 100 mile wilderness in Maine along the Appalachian Trail. About half way up the mountain, Matt began to open up under the comfort of treeline and marked path below. We had journeyed almost 4000 miles at this point, side by side, day by day and talked about the conditions of the trail but never how the trail was actually affecting us.
It is grueling day in and day out with the threat of cars pushing you off the pavement. It is not serene or a time for great reflection. You are always surrounded by people and machines. We are finishing up this trip and it’s as if it didn’t even happen. There is no real ‘awakening’ or feeling of accomplishment that comes from months in the woods or on the water, because everyday we are riding the same roads as people who are going to work or to shop. We are biking on the same infrastructure that so many of us want to escape from. Both of us revealed our disappointment at the finale of this trip and our realization that biking long distance was challenging, without much of the rewards that so many other trails offer.
As we made it to the top of the mountain, and the expanse of Penobscot Bay opened up before us, we settled into the overwhelming peace a summit can bring you and once more, had the feeling that this entire trip was worth it. This mountain top experience, although not even 2000 feet high, brought us back to our roots and once more I saw the sparkle in Matt’s eyes. We stayed a long time looking out onto the ocean and letting the glisten off the water stain our eyes. This site and hike, although only lasting an hour, was just enough rejuvenation to get us back on our bikes.
We cycled quickly side by side when the shoulder was wide enough, flicking off all of the Maine drivers that crept too close. We passed Bucksport and Orland and before we knew it we were descending into Ellsworth. We stopped at subway to carb up and checked camping options one last time for Bar Harbor. It turned out that Bar Harbor campground had one tent site available and so after 5 we continued our last leg of the day. We pulled in as the sun was starting to set! We took a quick swim in their heated pool and watched the sky turn from pink to gray over the Frenchman Bay.
Today has been full of emotions and physical fatigue, but tonight I am once more thankful for the opportunity to climb inside a tent, lay next to a partner who is now one year older, and dream about finishing a trail started many months ago.
I woke at 5:30am. My inner clock is starting to suck, especially when I have a cozy, warm bed to wake up in. I got up and went downstairs to get the laundry that had been drying overnight. Stan and Peg’s new house is beautiful. I looked at the kitchen and deck and the finches that were at their bird feeder. They had chosen a house big enough to host lots of family and friends and I envisioned spending our traditional thanksgiving together reminiscing about grandma and grandpa Eller. I walked back up stairs and started to pack and get things ready. By the time I returned back downstairs Uncle Stan had already started the french press coffee and had blueberry pancakes crackling on the skillet! It was so nice to have breakfast with them. Aunt Peg gave us a few maps of the state and National Parks in the area and Stan recommended staying in Camden Hills State Park. He told me that Mount Battie was the last mountain he took Grandma Eller on. Somehow over breakfast we convinced Stan and Peg to bike with us back to the Northern Tier Trail. They hadn’t tried out their bikes since moving and it was a joy to have them bike beside us. We headed out, and they lead us on a short trail through the woods and then through a nice neighborhood. At McKeene street we said goodbye to them! Thank you again Aunt Peg and Uncle Stan!
We quickly found our way through downtown Brunswick and onto a beautiful bike trail along Merrymeeting Bay. When the path ended, we turned onto Old Bath Road which ended in a ‘road closed’ sign about two miles down. Much like our journey thus far, if there is a bridge to be worked on, it is going to happen during this trip. I flagged down the first car that pulled up and asked if she thought we could still get through. She said the bridge has been completely torn out and that we would have to back track to the trail and take US1. She offered to take us back to the bike trail and we said YES!! We unloaded the bikes, removed the front tires and within 15 minutes were back at the bike trail. We road along with her two kids, one of which told us he was 5 and that he was going to start school this year. He then went on and talked the whole way about his chickens and skateboarding! They dropped us off and I thanked the woman for taking us the two miles back. I know it seems petty, not biking back two miles, but it meant the world to Matt and I at that moment.
The rest of the day was hard. Similar climbs like the day before, but even more unruly traffic. Today is also the second day that Matt and I are not talking. The biking is silent, and there is anger and frustration in the air.The additional emotional stress weighs down the bike and it is slow moving all day. I can’t even explain what is happening between us. We have been fighting about petty things, like when to take breaks, and both of us feel a loss of control. I think as the days continue to push us closer to finishing, there is a feeling of not wanting the trip to end. There is something deeper that is working itself out, and Matt appears to be suffering. I thought he might be coming down with something, but there are no physical symptoms, rather just a dark cloud that sits a top his brow and causes his eyes to gray over. It is very hard for me to see him like this. At the moment, I want to be screaming with joy as we crawl toward the finish line embraced in the memories of the last three months. But I can’t when my partner is struggling.
We ate the hard boiled eggs aunt Peg gave us in silence half way through the day. We ate dinner in silence. We set up the tent at Camden Hills State Park in silence. His birthday is tomorrow. He will be 31. Perhaps that is what is tangling his thoughts. I asked him how he was feeling and he said “I am done.” Those were the only words he’s spoken to me. I hope tomorrow brings him peace.
Today was a long mileage day weaving around Highlandland, Long and Pleasant Lake. We stopped early morning in Bridgton and headed into their library to update the website and check the forecast for the next couple days. We started the day early, before 7am, but when we left the library it was already noon and we still had over 60 miles to make it to Brunkswick. I had also eaten all of the delicious tomatoes and granola bars Jessica and Chris gave us the night before. Thanks for the treats! Have I mentioned I am hungry all the time? The hills were ridiculously steep and at one point the gradient seemed to be at least 15%. One of these side streets, right outside Danville had us cross the railroad tracks and then start one of the steepest, shortest climbs of the trip. We ran into the Germans, the ones we had met back in Idaho and were so happy to see that they had made it to Maine! They were going to take their time getting to Bar Harbor though. They didn’t want to arrive on the weekend. We wished them well and said goodbye!
We made it to Brunswick and pulled into Aunt Peg and Uncle Stan’s driveway a little before 6pm. They both came out to greet us and gave us the warmest welcome! They hurried us into the showers, started a load of our laundry and then drove us to the coast for the Best Lobster around that can only be found at Ericas! We put in our order of three lobsters, fries, coleslaw and seafood chowder and grabbed a picnic table. We opened up some beer and wine and feasted as the sun set. Matt and I have only had lobster a few times, so Uncle Stan was gracious enough to walk us through step by step instructions of how to get the most meat out. Step #1: Put on your bib!!! It was a great night on the Atlantic ocean. As the night wore on, Matt and I were not much for words, as the duration and mileage of the day started to kick in, but as always Uncle Stan and Aunt Peg were so thoughtful to treat us to such a feast. We crawled into bed around 10pm and fell asleep to the wonderful familiar sound of family.
