Only forty miles to Mount Desert Island

   Laura fed me like the prince that I am; pancakes, sausage, coffee, everything Maine organic. A late start of 10:25, give it a rest, her place by the water was worth the delay.  Anyways, what is the rush?  My driven nature is unrelenting.  

      Laura's rooster tuned up at 4:30 and crowed  for two hours.  My window was thirty feet from the hen house.  Terrific!  Actually, I slept like the dead given all the riding I am doing.

       Once on the road, the hills were steep and frequent.  Twelve miles to Blue Hill and another thirteen to Ellsworth.  I remember Ellsworth as being a run down town with not much to offer; forty-three years later, the historic district is restored and thriving.  The terrain flattened out as I head for Trenton, the gateway to Mount Desert. Six more miles and I arrived at Bar Harbor Campgrounds where I set up camp and took the propane powered bus to Bar Harbor.  A chalkboard advertising a small local pub caught my eye. Good find, two IPAs and a succulent corned beef sandwich was perfect.  I chatted it up with some folks at the bar and then headed out to find myself ice cream.  God's teeth,  Bar Harbor is a huge tourist destination for the hords who haven't a clue about real Maine.  The stores sell  chotski (sp) which is total crap, if I may be so crude.  Anyways, I enjoyed being the fly on the wall seeing Joe America in vacation mode.

     I caught the last bus back to my campsite. Tomorrow there is an 80% chance of rain, not a good situation for someone in a tent riding a bike. Bon nuit.