The Arrival

Well, Mike and I talked last night. He's coming back to join Josh and I after a short absence from the team. In Exeter for the last two days, he got up at dawn and cycled all the way to York before Josh and I were even moving this morning. 

We slept like we had died. When Josh finally woke me up for breakfast, I was a zombie. My eyes were heavy as rocks and I zigzagged my off-balance body into the kitchen.

Nell and her mother made us baked eggs. It has never occured to me to put eggs mixed with feta and cheddar into the oven. As a fresh-out-of-college kid, my list of cuisines I can create are extremely short and they would probably make you cringe. Yes, Ramen Noodles proved to a key part of my nutrition... and peanut butter sandwiches.

Breakfast was wonderful and Nell was patient enough to listen to Josh and I sleepily talk about nothing. She had work at eleven and gave us both a hug before leaving. Josh and I both agreed that we had really connected with Nell and were sad to leave but alas, such are the ways of the road.

Josh and I eventually left to retrace the route Nell had driven us on the night before. Along the way was a Mr. Michael Hinchey holed up in the York Public Library. On the way, Josh and I went to the cemetary that Nell had told us about.

A grave in the cemetary belonging to a Miss Mary Nasson is supposedly that of a witch. A rectangular stone slab rests above the grave supposedly to keep her spirit from leaving the tomb.

As it turned out, her husband placed the stone slab over the grave to keep animals from messing up the area. So much for all the witchcraft fables.

Just across the street was one of the oldest continuously used churches of America, built in 1742. It was also around this time that the Native Americans finally relented against their previous raids on the settlement. York had virtually been wiped off the map by a late 17th century Native American attack known by locals as the "Candlemas Massacre". The French, usually supported by the local Native Americans, continuously fought the English along the border of Maine for well over 100 years, basically ending after the Seven Years War around the 1760's.

Anyhow, just a bit down the road, Josh and I found a rogue Mike Hinchey reading a book in the quiet room of the library. 

We were complete once more.

Anxious to get onto the beautiful bike path today before I fell back asleep, I left Mike and Josh at the library. Just a few miles out, I saw the first view of the coastline that we would follow for the day. 

I had to go down there. Still sleepy, I went down onto the beach to read for a bit. I got about ten pages down before I passed out amongst the half-naked beach inhabitants. 

I woke up with drool crusted alongside my face. The sounds of giggling children and laughing gulls was a lovely alarm.

Chocolate peanut butter + bread = Bike fuel.

I road further down along the coastline passing through the tourist town of Ogunquit, which I can imagine must be of Native American influence. However, the people living there now live quite luxuriously. Everything is perfect: fertilized green grass, people wearing those weird sweater things tied around their necks, 5 star beachside getaways, a-list architecture, and old people. It was chill.

The next town was Wells, home of the famous (in my family, this place meant the world to my mother) Maine Diner. 

The Maine Diner. My family of six would vacation in a northern part of Maine every year since a very young age, and every year, my mother would force my dad to travel an hour off the beaten path to eat their famous lobster rolls. By this point, us kids were usually going insane from the time spent in the car. I can still recall the absolutely mad laughter and giggle fits we would get in here, largely triggered by the silliest and simplest things.

I waited for Mike and Josh to get there for an hour. Once Josh called me to inform me Mike had gotten a flat, I became impatient and left. In my haste, I lost our maps. Yeah, way to go me. It's not a big deal though. After tomorrow, we would be done with the map anyhow.

We all met up at a McDonalds down the road a bit and ate a bunch of shit.

Mike's grandfather had a friend that lived in the town of Biddeford, ME. He was away for the evening but graciously told us we could camp out in his yard, which is where we are now. It's only five miles off-route and the ride here was a lot of fun. I had way too much caffeine at McDonalds and was wired like a child. It's a good time here in Biddeford.

We took a bunch of back roads from Kennebunk to Biddeford.

John's location is absolutely prime.

Special shout out to Nell's cat Tiger. The poor girl is an outdoor cat but has to adapt to living in the house for two weeks before they can let her out. She's Nell's boyfriend's cat and is 18 years old. 18! She slept on my lap on the couch last night.

She also didn't allow Josh to sleep, bellowing and howling all night for freedom. I feel your pain, Tiger. We're sorry.