Mt. Cadillac

Arcadia National Park, Maine
June

It rained this morning. I was depressed, but that ended with the
rain. The clouds rolled away, and the sun came out. Hold on, the
mosquitoes are really hungry.

There, that's much better. I had to put up my tent. I pity the
animals out there. The mosquitoes are in a feeding frenzy heat. Now
where was I; oh, yeah—when I finally left the campground it was a nice
72 degrees (soon to become 80) and the sun was shining. I was so glad
to be riding my bicycle; it felt like I was sailing down the highway.

I took the cutoff up to Mt. Cadillac, a 1500-foot high mountain. On
the way there, I ran into Donna and Peggy. They were riding bicycles,
too. Donna was having problems with her derailleur, so I helped her
out as much as I could (not much). After that, the three of us rode
together to the summit. The view was super. On the east and south were
the ocean, islands, and inlets. On the north and west were lakes and
forest. The girls and I enjoyed the view and the sun. We ate our lunch
together. Peggy even offered me her place to crash for the evening.

The Harder It Rained The Louder I Sang

Seawall Campground
June 19

The misty, gray, weather had turned to rain. I was not going to let a
little wetness get me down, though. I started singing, and the harder
it rained, the louder I sang. Luckily it didn't break loose until
mid-afternoon, just as I reached the Seawall campground. I spent the
next two hours putting up my tent. This time, however, I put it up
underneath the tarp that I bought just after I left Richard. I didn't
know if my idea would work, but I had to try something. The pouring
rain made my engineering project difficult, but around 6 p.m.
everything came together. I even got a fire started and had a can of
hot Beef-a-roni for dinner. After dinner I walked down to the camp
store in order to phone home. I needed to find out if Richard was
somewhere in the park. I figured we could hook back up with help from
our parents. I received sad news. Richard's younger brother Steve had
been killed in a car accident and they had been trying to contact him,
but that was a couple days ago. More than likely, he was already on
his way home. I felt really bad for Richard as I mentally prepared to carry on.

Mountain Top Arcadia Park Harbor View

Maine
June ‘77


I'm sitting on top of a 580-foot mountain overlooking some
spectacular scenery in Arcadia National Park— forest, coastline, and
ocean—all beautiful.

After leaving Bar Harbor, I bicycled a beautiful ocean highway. The
forests were thick, so finding a place to camp wasn't easy, but I
found a reasonable spot in the pines. There was too much daylight to
set up my tent (I was getting tired of playing hide and seek with the
authorities), so I hid my gear in the trees and went for a walk. I was
close to a hiking trailhead, so I followed it. The climb wasn't bad,
and from the top the view of the harbor was fantastic. In an instant,
I realized that there was nothing preventing me from camping up there.

I hoofed it down the mountain and got my bike. After pushing it back
up the mountain, I was able to catch the last of the twilight as it
followed the sun beneath the horizon. The lights of Bar Harbor were
off to my left, and in front of me the lights from the inbound Nova
Scotia ferry drifted slowly across the harbor. When the ferry docked,
its lights became brilliant. Those were not the only brilliant lights
that came out that night. The sky was in full regalia. Looking up into
those stars, I felt right at home. I had to leave home to get home and
that was what made it all worthwhile! The mountain was obliging in
another way also. I was able to get a good picture of the morning
sunrise --just before the clouds rolled in bringing with them the
promise of more rain.

Arcadia National Park

Maine
June 17

Richard and I haven't hooked up yet. He'll probably arrive tomorrow.
After the weather cleared, I biked 80 or 90 miles, and camped last
night at Moose State Park. It was situated on one of the many
inlets that peppered the Maine coastline. I made
myself scarce around sundown, so as not to attract attention to
myself. As I was leaving the area, I met some hitchhikers who were
also planning to camp illegally in the park. We talked for a while.
The younger one had never hitchhiked long distance before. He exuded
the same enthusiasm and excitement for the road that I used to have.
Talking with him brought back some fond memories. It's true; I'm
getting older. That night I slept without a tent, under a star filled
sky, a beautiful sky. In the morning I biked into Bar Harbor.

Bar Harbor sat at the entrance of Arcadia National Park. It was a
neat little town. It had a lot of inviting shops—for tourists. I
checked out the price of taking a ferry over to Nova Scotia. For
$18.50 I could cut 320 miles off my trip, relax, and enjoy an
eight-hour ferry ride. But, if I took the ferry, I would miss some
nice scenery. The bike trip would cost me a good $10. or $12., so I
really wouldn't save much money. I decided to take the ferry. I also
calculated that I had about 1000 miles of bicycling left. My $120
probably wouldn't be enough to get me home. Somewhere along the way I
would have to send for more money.

Waking Up Next To Walden Pond

New Hampshire
June, '77
pics fog pond, map, Rich and I

In the morning, a cloudy mist greeted us. The fog bank covered half
of Walden Pond. After a moment's silence, I turned to Richard and
asked how his night had gone. "Not so good," he replied, "too many
mosquitoes. It was sweaty in my sleeping bag." "Yeah," I responded,
"the mosquitoes were bad, but, all in all, I had a pretty good
evening." We hiked down the hill and managed to get our bikes back to
the highway without being discovered. Then it was up the New Hampshire
coastline, under clouds at first, but late in the morning the sun
broke through making it a beautiful bicycle ride.

At the end of the day, we found a nice secluded area to camp. But
before we camped, we went for some beer. Sitting high up on a rocky
incline, overlooking the beautiful ocean surf, we drank our beers and
ate our store bought roast beef sandwiches. We had every intention of
making it back to our pre-selected campsite, but those intentions, I
guess, just weren't good enough because we crashed in the vacant lot
just behind where we were sitting.

Before we started traveling together, I used to bike long and doodle
little. Richard's agenda was just the opposite. He doodled long and
bicycled in-between doodles. We both understood the situation and
therefore it was easy to agree on a new procedure. We made a
gentleman's agreement to go our separate ways. Yesterday was such a
good day for both of us that it made it easy to leave on the best of
terms. I was the first to say good-bye to Richard who, when I was
ready to leave, was still reading his morning newspaper. Not far down
the highway from where we camped the road forked, so I took the scenic
route. (It wasn't very scenic, though.) The weather was holding, and
Maine was beautiful—a great state to bike.

As it turned out, the time I spent bicycling the scenic route was
about the same amount of time that Richard spent doodling in Portland,
Maine. Just outside of Portland, we ran into each other on the highway.
We camped just outside of Brunswick, in the woods, in the rain. In the
morning I packed up in a swarm of mosquitoes, chiggers, and eight to
ten leeches that I guess were enjoying the feel of my nylon tent.
Richard and I agreed to meet again in Bar Harbor. We planned a joint
tour of Arcadia National Park. (I wonder if I will ever compromise
enough to abandon my solitary nature? A little compromise, I know,
would be healthy).

Staring Into The Same Stars As Thoreau Did Filled Me With Awe

Walden Pond
June, ‘77

The sun had already set when we walked our bikes along the pond. We
stretched our sleeping bags out under a stand of pine trees that
covered a hill overlooking the pond. We were off the main path, but
still had a good view of the water. Actually, we were half way up a
large hill overlooking the whole area. The highway was on the other
side of the pond from where we rolled out our sleeping bags-- out of
sight and over the hill. It was peaceful. We decided against the
tents because we were lying on a pretty steep incline.

It had been cloudy all day, but the sky cleared just as we arrived at
Walden. Lying on our sleeping bags, we hoped it would stay that way.
We stayed awake into the evening, and when our conversation drifted
into silence, under the scattering of stars that could barely be seen
through the black outline of the scented pine trees above, I could
feel myself getting emotional. Thoreau's book, Walden, had been an
inspirational book for me. The book made me feel good about my life.
Looking up into the same stars that Thoreau must have stared into
filled me with an intense feeling of goodness.

Thoreau, a role model for me, took a critical look at what it
meant to be successful—success being measured by wealth,
material goods, and status—and found it wanting. He then went to his
cabin and bean field to live a life of simplicity. By rejecting the
conventional notions of success, Thoreau legitimated universal
life-affirming values while keeping the ideal of individualism fully
intact and alive. He strove for economic self-sufficiency, and a
"higher truth." By immersing himself in the wellsprings of nature, he
put himself in direct contact with the regenerative power of nature,
and in turn, was filled with a sense of the renewal that made possible
the development of a higher and richer knowledge. After a year at
Walden Pond, Thoreau discovered a "new sense of himself and the
world," and, in the process, he left behind a kind of diary--Walden.
In fact, I remember how envious I became when I read how he learned to
cherish the "present condition of things" in the same way that two
lovers might cherish their embrace of each other. I should be so lucky!

Baking Bread In An Oven Fireplace

Massachusetts
June 12

Richard and I straightened up the castle before leaving. The castle
had aged. It was never more splendid than when we first encountered it
two days ago. Just before leaving we put the bread that we had bought
at the store into the top of the 1720 fireplace—a bread oven built
right into the fireplace. It turned out scrumptious. What a treat!

When you're not traveling, expenses pile up. I guess that's the price
of a good time. I had $400 when I started and now there's only $180
in my pocket. The good news was that the rain had stopped and the
weather was clearing. I'm looking forward to a nice, long, bicycle
ride today. Maine and Nova Scotia, here we come!

June 15

Richard and I did Boston. We stumbled upon a youth center where we
both got a shower. We washed our clothes at a laundry mat and then, in
late afternoon, we left town. Thoreau's Walden Pond was next up for
us. By the time we had reached there, the park had closed. The
entrance was in a secluded area, and since nobody was around, we
decided to go inside anyway. After some difficulty, we got our bikes
past the locked gates.