Time to Spare

Tuesday I began a pleasant little 3-day, 170-mile bike trip. I left bright and early stopping in Farmington to say hello to Stacy and buy a Boston Globe. I got rained on during the first few miles and the forecast had gotten much worse since I had made my decision to go. I didn't want to turn back because of the impetus for the trip, two friends who had invited me to spend the night and were expecting me. The light rain stopped by the time I reached Farmington and stayed away the rest of the trip. As I pedaled through New Sharon on my way to mile hill I passed a pasture with hundreds of turkeys. When I passed by large numbers of them became excited and started flying to that side of the filed and cooing or whatever noise turkeys make. They probably thought I was a person out to feed them but the thought did pass my mind that a lot of motorists probably think I'm a turkey.

At nine fifteen I made my first real stop for the day in Belgrade Lakes. I had the breakfast special at the Sunset Grill. The waitress did an excellent job and I enjoyed items, such as bacon and sausage, that I rarely allow on my plate. I found myself sinking into the type of serenity I so often find on bike trips. I can best describe it by saying that I can't carry much on my bike and had to leave most of my problems behind. Those that did come along had to compete with the scenery and didn't get much attention. One of the joys of a bike trip is free time. I took a few short detours including one to the Maine Veterans Memorial cemetery in Augusta. It's a lovely spot on a hill with benches and attractive landscaping. When I pedaled up to the Barnes and Noble store I only had ten miles more to go and 4-5 hours to get there. So I read my Globe from cover to cover, a rare treat. Then I shopped and found some pretty Maine lighthouse cards and wrote some of those out to special friends. I called another friend who's coming for a visit and browsed through some gardening books.

In Augusta I did some sightseeing and took pictures of the old post office and the capital. I had lunch at China King and definitely got my money's worth from their buffet. After lunch I pedaled by 7 Elm Street, the first street address I ever knew. My grandmother lived there and no place has fonder memories for me. It seems strange now because the building is a nondescript two-story frame house. She rented the upstairs from the McCauslins and all of them have long since passed away. Back then the house was meticulously cared for. My grandmother filled her apartment with elegant antiques and kept it spotless. Compared to the chaos of our farm, or anyplace else I had been, her home defined refinement. Happily the reality of a modest, somewhat run-down house had no effect on my rich memories. A couple of blocks down the street I found the church she attended: the South Parish Congregational Church. I probably have sat through more sermons there than anywhere else. In contrast to the house, the church was bigger and more magnificent than I remembered, and painstakingly cared for.

Then, I took advantage of Barbara's offer to arrive early. She lives in a precious little house in a dense grove of trees and gardens on a point of land that sticks out into the Kennebec River. Sitting on the lawn chairs at her house is one of the easiet ways I know to move into an altered state of serenity. She had left the door open so I decided to get there in time to take a shower and short nap before she came home from work. Delighted to see me she made me feel welcome and valued. We sat and talked non-stop for two hours or so and then walked up to Hallowell a neat historic city filled with antique stores. We saw mutual friends Vern and Betsy, and eventually Barbara and I finally ate a late dinner. We had a hard time calling off the conversation but finally did so as we both had to get up early. She has a great guest bed and I slept soundly until 6:30. I wanted to sleep in as we'd been up late but was eager to continue my adventure.

Barbara had already left for work and twenty minutes later I headed south passing through Farmingdale and Gardiner before getting on route 24 a scenic road along the Kennebec river. I paid a price for the scenery: lots of hills. However, light traffic and morning scenery made the extra effort worthwhile. Fourteen miles later I rolled into Richmond with a serious appetite. At the market I learned that the Richmond News sold the Globe, but the friendly lady there said it hadn't arrived yet. She recommended that I eat at the Railroad Café and told me to watch for a big truck with Portland News on the side. No sooner had my coffee come than the truck went by and I got my paper. On a bike trip you appreciate the small things and I had them: a paper, no rain, a window seat, good food, a friendly waitress and a whole day in front of me.

Rested and fueled by blueberry pancakes I headed west on route 197. Gray skies and temperatures in the high 60's made riding pleasant as I passed lots of working farms. While I appreciate the old farms that have been lovingly restored by urban types, I really like to see cows, hay bales, and pastures mowed in that irregular pattern livestock leave. Sixteen miles up the road with lots of time to spare I decided to stop at a roadside place for more coffee. A little store called Oak Hill Gas with an attachment called Mooing Meadows Ice Cream seemed just right. I sat outside on picnic tables surrounded by rolling hills of pasture, hay and corn fields. Across the road all manner of strange-shaped equipment sat in front of a farm machinery company. I talked to the store clerk about the merits of two competing roads to Monmouth. She suggested I take 132 to avoid a few hills, and that sounded sensible to me. I passed by several orchards and enjoyed great views of Sabattus and Cochnewagon lakes. Big beautiful homes on large carefully landscaped grounds lined the road into Monmouth a modest village home to the ornate Shakespeare theater. I continued on country roads until I arrived very hungry again at the Winthrop House of Pizza. In no time I had a cold drink, a window seat and a bowl of spaghetti on the way. Nothing I've found tastes as good as that cold drink or feels as good as that table and chair after 46 miles of hilly scenery. So I read, wrote and rested until the urge to move on overcame the desire to relax.

The last stretch took me along Maranacook Lake to Readfield where I turned west and rode over Kents Hill to Fayette. Feeling ice cream deprived I bought some Ben & Jerry's Doonesbury flavored sorbet, a luscious mix of raspberry and blueberry swirls. Fayette has a fire station and an old store but nothing else, not even a post office. The Fayette Country store dates back to 1850 and attracted a lot of kids from summer camps while I was there. On group sat obediently across the street and the counselor allowed them to go two at a time into the store to pick out a drink and a snack.

I then combed my hair and pedaled over to my friend Beverly's house. It's a small little home on a big lot with lots of trees and gardens. She inherited the latter and struggle to find the time to do them justice. Her home really appealed to me: it was just big enough for her and her son Mike. They had all they needed but no extra space. She has it filled with books and mementos and I felt privileged to be inside as it revealed so much about her. Bev, a native of Richmond, Maine, once lived in Washington and had a rustic camp on Marancook Lake which would be my abode for the evening. Since she didn't have a bike rack I pedaled back over Kents Hill and through Readfield to gravel fire road number 4. There she left Michael with a neighbor and picked me up. She fed me a delicious home-cooked meal of rice and chicken kabobs designed to be agreeable to my low-fat preferences. For desert we had strawberries she had picked earlier in the day a farm on Kents Hill. After dinner we drove to Augusta to the new movie theater to see My Best Friend's Wedding. After the movie we went to the River Café in Hallowell. How ironic I spent all day pedaling from Hallowell to Fayette and here I was back in Hallowell. Lest I take myself to seriously.

I slept well but again awoke too early but too excited to sleep more. I loved the look of the lake as I pedaled around the circle and headed out. Not a ripple disturbed the surface as a silent mist rose toward the blue sky. What a peaceful spot. Not only was there no rain but the sun had come back out, and it was clearly going to be a hot day. I stopped at Bev's for coffee, fruit and homemade blueberry muffins. Then I pedaled to Livermore Falls where I bought a Boston Globe and had another breakfast at the Chuck Wagon. After a nice break where I caught up on the Red Sox, the Tour de France and the Patriots in the sports page I continued on to Wilton via route 133. Hills abound on that scenic road with not much traffic. I didn't regret the choice but got heated up on that leg. When I got to Bean's Corner I took a left and zipped over to Wilton where I went for a swim in Wilson Pond. The water felt cold at first but definitely refreshed me. I read in the shade for a while and then decided it had been long enough since my last meal for me to mosey on down to the Wilton Café.

The café, under new ownership, has wonderful big windows with nothing to block the view. The furniture is white except for blond wood table tops. With the white walls and ceiling and big windows they have made the place very bright and cheerful. The food would not have impressed me had I been hungry but with two breakfasts under my belt the turkey melt I had sufficed. Sitting there with my coffee I looked out at the stores in the pretty little village of Wilton. What kind of shops can survive the Wal-Mart/Shop 'n Save assault? From my seat I saw Wilton Printing, Shirt Tails (custom screen printing), North Country Consignments, Ironside Gym, Weber Insurance and Living Touch Florist. My waitress refilled my coffee and I took a break from the Globe to write a card to a friend in South Carolina. I can find lots of ways to fill free time; perhaps that's why I enjoy it so.

For a while storm clouds threatened but then dissipated. I got as far as Farmington and decided I hadn't had desert so bought a pint of low fat ice cream and ate it at the side walk table at Don's AG--delicious! After that interlude I pedaled home to my voice mail, e-mail and snail mail.