Riding from Quebec to Maine

Frankly, when we set out on this leg of the trip, T and I were both somewhat apprehensive about it. Not only were we a little reluctant to be leaving Quebec, but this was going to be a long day of riding. From Quebec City to Bar Harbor is about 280 miles, maybe a quarter of it expressway, so the ride was going to be approximately 6 hours plus any stops. This was going to be the longest day of riding since the stretch from Maryland to Vermont, which hadn’t really been much fun to tell the truth.

We were both tired before the day even started. I’ve not mentioned the difference in daylight times up here. I assume it’s due to being farther north, but the sun rises about 45 minutes earlier each day than back home. I’m kind of an early riser anyway, so I’m unable to sleep through the ambient light for too long meaning that I’ve been consistently been waking up around 5:30AM. Our nights out on the town in Quebec had been late ones so we were both a little behind in our sleep.

In spite of all this, we sucked it up and got going by around 9:30AM, which was a little later than we had hoped. Again we weren’t really that excited about making this leg. As we drove out of the city, the overcast skies didn’t help our enjoyment of the ride. We made our way south toward Maine on Autoroute 73. The Autoroute ended about 30 minutes outside of the city and we were back to riding desolate, two-lane roads with few towns along the way. The terrain began to get hilly again so the scenery improved somewhat, but the overcast skies blunted our appreciation for it.

We reached the U.S. border around 11:30 near the town of Jackman, ME. Near is a relative term. The first 100 miles we were in Maine we went through 4 “towns”. It wasn’t until after the 4th town that we came to the first stop light and fast food restaurant. We made it through customs easily. My parents had been to Canada a couple of weeks ago and told us that while entering Canada had been quick and easy, coming back into the U.S. was more difficult so we were anxious that we might have to do a fair amount of unpacking and repacking. The border guard kind of poked around at our stuff, asking the typical questions (how long were you in Canada, where are you headed, for how long, what’s the purpose of your trip) and then cleared us to go through.

As we were both getting hungry, we asked the guard how far it was until the next town. He asked if we were low on fuel. Nah, we replied, we just want something to eat. Jackman was about 17 miles away he told us. After riding along through northern Maine, I understand why he made a point to ask about fuel. As I mentioned, this is a desolate patch of real estate.

We had decided that today we were going to have a fast food lunch for the first time on this trip. However, by the time we arrived in Jackman we were ready for whatever the town had to offer. It was a small town, but did have a couple of mom and pop type of diners. The gravel parking lot at the Four Seasons was pretty full so we decided that must be the place. We went inside and saw that there was a long line leading into the back of the restaurant. It turned out that the full parking lot was not an endorsement by the town, but that there was a family reunion going on there. We took a seat and ordered some “safe” diner food. T got a hamburger (which was good) while I ordered the chicken fingers (not so good).

We finished up our food and got back on the road. We were still kind of dragging and not really into the ride. The road we were on once we hit Maine ran through dense forests where the trees were just beside the roads, blocking whatever view might be available. About 20 minutes outside of Jackman, we both started slapping each other and pointing off the road. I slowed the bike down, turned it around and we dismounted to get a closer look at our first moose. We could see that he had antlers starting to form so we knew that he was a bull. I walked down the bank beside the road to within about 30 feet of him. I’m not a moose expert, but I’ve heard that they can be dangerous and charge you. I wasn’t prepared to find out. This wasn’t some white-tailed deer back home, this was like a horse with horns. It was big. I would guess that he was about 6 feet tall at the shoulder. T kept pushing me to get closer for a better picture. She seemed more interested in a quality portrait of Mr. Moose than she was for my safety. Even though I was still armored up with my riding gear and helmet, I stayed a decent bit away from him. He watched me carefully as I approached, but didn’t seem to change what he was doing. I guess he didn’t feel I posed much threat to something of his size, so he just continued grazing.

By the time I had finished shooting some pictures of the moose, there were a few more cars stopping along the shoulder of the road. With our bike drawing their attention to something happening they too saw the moose and stopped to get their own pictures. A family from Massachusetts ran past me down the hill anxious to see the animal. Then a local man walked past T and I poking a little fun at the family; “Heh…You can always tell the first-timers”, he said to us. In spite of his seeming nonchalance and assertions that moose sightings were quite common we noticed that he too climbed down the bank with a camera to see the moose.

Seeing the moose lifted our spirits and made our day. We had kind of ridden through the first half of the day in a daze. This day’s ride had become just about getting somewhere rather than an enjoyable experience in and of itself. We had seen signs for moose crossings since we had been in Vermont, but had seen no moose. While we were hopeful we knew that the odds were not in favor of us seeing one. I think it was a combination of the pleasant surprise and perhaps a touch of feeling a favor from the travel gods, but we were soon enjoying our ride a lot.

The scenery improved shortly after our moose sighting as well. We passed along several lakes, rivers, and many places with some mountain views. Again, these mountains are different from the ones in North Carolina. They are more like the Vermont hills, but instead of green valleys of meadows and pastures, the valleys of Maine are forested and almost absent of people. Even though the highway was 2-laned, the traffic (what little there was of it) zipped along at around 70 miles per hour. It was a fun ride.

About the time we entered the more populated southern part of Maine the sun came out and the temperature warmed. This was the first day that we had used our long-sleeved shirts because it was cool and overcast. With the sun warming things up we decided to ride in our t-shirts for the rest of the day. Tooling along in the warm sun riding through rolling hills toward the coast what we had dreaded being an arduous ride of endurance had instead become the best riding day we have had so far.

We stopped at a rest area just outside of Bangor to ask about accommodations for our stay in Bar Harbor. Most states have one of these as soon as you cross the border, if you’re on the interstate. You can pick up a road map, some brochures, and talk to a travel host. This was the first one we came across in Maine. I guess the day off in Quebec had thrown us from our habit, because we had failed to do any research on accommodations before we left. The nice gentlemen helped by making a few suggestions and also giving us some booklets on Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park. We had to call about 5 places before we found a room that was available within our budget. About 90 minutes later we were riding into Bar Harbor.

We were both pretty tired, both from the day’s ride and from the consistent late nights and early mornings throughout this trip. We ended our day with a short stroll down to the water front, had a quick dinner at Geddy’s pub and then came back to the room to get a good night’s rest.

Today we’re going to head out into Acadia for some riding. We hope to get some good pictures of the scenery. We’ve been told by several folks that this area is beautiful so we’re excited to be taking another ride that’s not just about getting us somewhere.

T's Terrific Thought of the Day: Amazing how quickly one acclimates to current culture - It took me a few seconds last night to realize that some of the other tourists in Bar Harbor were speaking French and it did not seem out of place to me.