Oh Hoppy Day!

Nobody labours on labour day in Hallowell, Maine. Lonely Planet suggests skipping the chain restaurants in the Maine Capital, Augusta, in favour of the more unique and local in Hallowell, down the road. I did just that this afternoon and I was greeted with one closed sign after another, which was unfortunate on so many levels and not just because the local brew pub was among the closed. I found my lunch back in Augusta but was instantly nostalgic for my options at the beginning of the weekend when I found myself in Bar Harbor with a Saturday off.

I’ve heard that the lobstah chowdah in Bah Habah is wicked good. Lobster chowder may taste like pumpkin pie but I’d never know, ‘cause I’d never eat the mofo. Bah Habah has a great feel in the mouth, say it out loud, and more is better when it comes to intonation. Bah Habah.

Through some charitable act of the gods I ended up with Saturday off. Which was good because I squandered two and a half hours of my free time on Friday driving back to Bangor to pick up something I had left behind that morning.

My first stop on Friday was to the Bar Harbor bike shop to repair some of the damage that was done to my bike during my flights so I could head out for an afternoon ride. A local club hosts rides several times a week and I was excited to ride with local knowledge at hand. A guy at the bike shop suggested that I may be on my own for the ride since it was so late in the season, but I was resolute. I was going to ride the Acadia National Park carriage trails and I would get lost if I had to. Fortunately for me, Carol was unloading her Subaru while waiting for another to join her and she was most gracious to invite me along. It was a casual spin on hard pack gravel trails, although wide enough for cars, are limited to bikes, pedestrians and horses. I f I knew any better perhaps I wouldn’t make the comparison but Mt. Desert Island could be a Gulf Island.

The feeling of recognition was strong and during my wandering through town on Saturday I overheard references to Salt Spring, Powell River and Nelson. Could Maine be a spiritual second to a homesick, and wayward photographer from BC? Perhaps.

Saturday was what a day off should be for a guy alone on the road for work. Though it started early the day began with wild blueberry pancakes and coffee and was followed by a four hour ride through the carriage trails. The return to the carriage trails wasn’t by design, but by the sad fact that no one but me showed up for the local Saturday morning club ride. At times I felt like I was riding through a plateau over Nelson and at others I felt like I was looking down on the Georgia Straight. It was uncanny but there I was, as close to home I could imagine without actually being there.

The ride, however, didn’t end with the gusto and enthusiasm with which it started. About 40km in I started to get cold and I blamed the season, the wind and my lack of sleeves, but all those factors couldn’t explain why I was dragging my ass so egregiously. I was so cold that I found myself looking at people in jackets with envy and those in short sleeves with pity. But there was a much sadder reality at work. I was bonking. I was out of gas and I was suddenly regretting not ordering the triple stack at breakfast. With 15km to go I had to sit down and fish an energy bar out of my bag.

I managed to make it back to the hotel and through the shower process before I passed out in my hotel room. 15 minutes later I woke, dressed and headed off for lunch. Since I was so cold and hungry earlier I left my room wearing 16 layers and armed with a wicked determination to find a burrito as big as my head. An hour later, after successfully finding such a burrito, I was stuffed, over heated and I could still barely move. Moderation is a crutch. Welcome to Bah Hahbah.

I should explain the picture. After riding till I passed out, and then eating till I couldn’t move, I paid a visit to the Atlantic Brewing Co, just outside Bar Harbor, where I was treated to a tour and tasting and a Special Old Bitter. I passed on the all you can eat BBQ, but I won’t next time.