Month: August 2016

Since my sister, Pat, picked me up at Quoddy Head, ME, I’ve been somewhat lost.  After three months of daily cycling, it feels weird to sit still and not be checking weather apps and Google maps regularly throughout the day as I peddle country roads.  It is going to be an adjustment to get back to “normal,” whatever that is.

I have been mulling over a synthesis of my trip, what it all means and what I take away from it.  Here are a few initial observations; I’m sure there will be more with further mulling.

• A long trip – or a big task – is not so daunting if broken up into small, doable pieces.  For me, taking one day at a time allowed me to focus on that day’s miles and not dwell on the immensity of the continent.
• It IS a big continent, for sure!  I got to appreciate that fact day after day as I slowly worked my way east.  One friend has noted that I’ll never look at a map of the U.S. the same again.
• The variety of climates, terrain, farms and forest, along with the people who live across this vast land, offered an ever-changing experience.  Each day was an adventure.
• You don’t have to be in Olympic shape to do this kind of trip, or to start out.  You can get into shape as you ride!
• Journeys such as this are as much or more mental as physical.  Persistence is a key trait to cultivate along the way; others include curiosity, open-mindedness, trust and positive mental attitude.
• Tail winds are almost always good, except when they allow the mosquitos to keep up.  Head winds, by contrast, are almost always bad, with the one silver lining that they keep the bugs down.  A stiff head wind, greater than 18-20 miles per hour, is worse than climbing over the Rockies.  Trust me.
• The wind does not blow consistently west to east.  Weather systems tend to move west to east, but the wind blows all over the map, daily, depending on the position of high and low pressure areas.
• Lightening can sneak up on you.  You know when the cloud is lurking, but sometimes it is hard to predict when to get off the all-steel bike.  A flash-and-bang within a couple seconds is a signal.  Seeing the lightening bolt hit the road ahead is like God saying, “Dave, get the hell off that lightening rod!”
• Roads come in all shapes and conditions, as do their shoulders or lack thereof.  There is no clear preference between a country road with low traffic but no shoulder and a busy highway with a wide shoulder.; both have their plusses and minuses.  Busy highways with no shoulders are clearly not preferable but are sometimes necessary to take, yet dangerous.
• Most American drivers are surprisingly courteous to bicycles, across all the states; I was pleased at how 98% of drivers would give me plenty of room.  I give another 1% of the drivers the benefit of the doubt that they simply didn’t know how to drive with a cyclist on the shoulder.
• About 1% of drivers are jerks.  These guys (predominantly) tend to drive black or red pick-up trucks with over-sized tires and throaty mufflers, or Jeeps.  Logging trucks are right up there, too.  Yet none of these guys threw anything at me or knocked me into the ditch, as I’ve heard horror stories about from other cyclists.  Maybe it was the American flag I flew off my panniers from Idaho to Maine?
• People are basically nice everywhere, as I noted repeatedly in my posts.  Regardless of background or political stipe, Americans (and Canadians in southern Ontario) were uniformly friendly, helpful, curious and caring.  This experience was one of the best discoveries of my trip.
• Rural bars and cafes are the social centers of the locals.  All eyes turn toward the door when a stranger walks in, then turn back to their drinks and neighbors.  But sooner or later one of them will be curious about this stranger, and quickly the whole place is alive with conversation about why someone would ride his bicycle across the country.  These interactions were the gold of my trip.
• A sign in a rural cafe speaks volumes about the locale:  “Not much happens in a small town, but there sure is a lot to talk about.”
• Angels are everywhere.  So many people helped me out across the continent that I lost track.  The kindness of strangers is a wonderful thing to experience over and over again, and an amazing antidote to the toxic politics in today’s news.

• Anything is possible if you put your mind, body and heart into it.  Set an adventurous challenge, then make it happen.  It is a great experience – for the soul as well as the body.
• A parting thought from the Dalai Lama:  “Trust leads to happy days and happy lives…. For a happy life, physical well-being is important, but true wellness must include a happy mind.”

 

• Dave (posted on 8/22/2016, now safely back home in Seattle, wondering what is next…)

(For more summary comments specific to the bicycle ride, see my updated F.A.Q.s.)

 

A light tailwind offered steady support as I savored the last few miles of road into Lubec.  A loon flew low overhead uttering its wonderful, erie call, as if to say, “Welcome, Galvin.  What took you so long?” I took it as a good omen and a fitting bookend to the chirps of Bald Eagles who saw me off from Neah Bay, WA, three months ago.

West Quoddy Head Lighthouse sits high on a ledge above the Bay of Fundy and the Canadian border – the Easternmost point in the U.S.  I achieved this red-and-white-striped goal just before noon today, August 16th, after 94 days and 5042 miles!  My sister, Pat, the No. 1 Road Angel, was waiting for me with a big grin and hug.  It felt great to achieve this goal, yet it is going to take me days to sort out my current emotions.

(Road Angel extrordinaire Pat with me at Quoddy Head, ME, with the Bay of Fundy and Canadian islands behind us.)

 

This bicycle trip has been the most wonderful adventure of my life, made so not only by the geography covered and time spent, but even more by all the people I’ve met along the way.  Don’t be discouraged, America, by all the negativity you hear on the daily news – the reality is that people all across this land are friendly, helpful, kind and considerate.  You would like them and they, you – it turns out that we are more similar at the basic, human level, than divided.  This trip reaffirmed my faith in America.  But I digress, and will likely return soon to debrief with you about my experience.

 

On the third-to-last day of my trip, I explored Acadia National Park on Mt. Desert Island.  The weather turned sunny and clear, so I peddled up Cadillac Mountain, which, at 1527 feet above sea level is the highest point directly on the coast north of Mexico.  The views from Cadillac are spectacular.  Most of the gaggle of tourists couldn’t believe that I had just ridden my bicycle up the mountain (a nice, 5% grade on the old carriage road), let alone ridden from Seattle in order to get to Cadillac.  I saw a lot of “omg” expressions.  And I had one on myself as I gazed out at the Atlantic Ocean and the beautiful coastline of Maine.

 

My neice, Kelly Sanborn, and her husband, Norman, invited me to spend the night at their house on Great Cranberry Island off Mt. Desert.  An added bonus was the arrival of my sister-in-law, Jean Galvin, just hours earlier from Florida.  We motored out aboard Cinchona, the wooden motor yacht that Norman skippers for his boss, Mrs. Nelson.  My brother, Greg, had given me a Cinchona hat which I have worn in his memory, so it was a special treat to ride in this boat and to finally meet her captain.

Kelly and Norman’s two island girls, Jessica and Melanie (ages 10 and 8), reminded my already, at their young ages, of the Maine girls, Anna and Julia, from Chebeague.  There is something about growing up on an island that fosters independence and strong character.  I can’t wait to see what Jess and Mel do as they continue to grow.

(Island Angels from Great Cranberry, Maine: Jean Galvin, Jessica, Kelly, Melanie and Norman Sanborn.)

 

After one more day of steady peddling, I arrived in Lubec for the finale.  Pat came the night before and we managed to have both dinner and breakfast at the famous Helen’s Restaurant in Machias, where all the food is excellent and the blueberry pies are extraordinary.

 

And that concludes my trip.  Pat is bringing me back to Concord, MA, where I’ll pack up and ship the bike and then jump on a plane back to Seattle.  I’m ready to be home.  I am looking forward to seeing Mary Sue, helping Nick and Bree with wedding preparations, and beginning to figure out what the next chapter will include.

Thanks for your interest and support over these many months and miles.  It has been a treat for me to share the adventure with you.  I’ll post some follow-up commentary soon, but for now: I’m done!

 

— Dave (posted from somewhere in Maine as we drive away, on 8/16/2016)

 

 

I peddled into my thirteenth and final state on August 8th, 86 days after leaving the Pacific Ocean at Neah Bay, Washington.  After riding on back roads a bit inland from the coast (in order to avoid all the tourist traffic on U.S. 1, such as around Kenneybunkport), I turned a corner and smelled salt air over the coastal marshes.  A rush of memories swept over me as I recalled summers on the New Hampshire coast at Hampton Beach, diving through waves in the cold ocean water, and watching shorebirds in the nearby marshes.  Funny how a smell can bring back such vivid memories in a flash.

 

I visited my cousin, Mary, and her husband, Bob Dall, at Cape Elizabeth just south of Portland, Maine.  They have a lovely place and were wonderful hosts.  It was fun to catch up with them, their son, Bobby, and grandson, Charlie, and to recount stories from the extended Lagasse clan.

(Road Angels Bob and Mary Dall in Cape Elizabeth, ME.)

 

I passed through downtown Portland and its historical, red brick buildings on my way up the coast (or “Down East” as the locals would say)

…to Yarmouth, where I met Carol White, another old college friend and the younger sister of Michael, my high school buddy from Providence, RI.  Carol and her husband, Herb, took me across in their skiff to Chebeague Island in Casco Bay, where they have lived for 30 years.  Their two daughters, Anna and Julia, who grew up on the island, are working on a lobster boat for the summer hauling traps. They brought home a handful of the day’s haul for dinner.

 

To maintain my ale addiction, they produced a wide selection of local brews from Maine to sample.  I’m happy to report that they all go well with lobster!

 

These Island Angels even let me stay an extra day when the morning weather radar looked ominous.  I tagged along as Julia and her mom cleaned young oysters, and added East Coastal species to my bird list as we toured the island.  It was a treat to catch up with Carol after 40 years; to see how life on an island presents unique benefits as well as challenges; and to meet her and Herb’s offspring who reminded me very much of my houseboat kids.

(Island Angels – the Maine/White family: Herb, Carol, Julia and Anna, Chebeague Island, ME.)

 

I headed inland as well as farther Down East to visit my old botany professor, Bruce Fowles, long retired from Colby College, in Washington, ME.  He and his wife, Rhoda, live on 20 remote acres and  house rescued dogs.  Bruce admitted that the only lichens he looks at now are on the bark of logs he cuts for firewood. I have to admit the same minimal contact these days with the plants he and I used to study intently 40+ years ago.

(Road Angels Rhoda and Bruce Fowles in Washington, ME.)

 

(A rescued poodle with character… and a strong attachment to the rescuers.)

 

(Student and teacher, 40+ years later.)

 

I then headed farther Down East, over extremely hilly country in the Camden/Belfast area, in 90 degree, humid conditions.  Road signs at junctions pointed toward Union, Liberty, Freedom and Hope, all local Maine towns slightly inland from the coast.  I particularly like being headed for Hope, while sweating profusely grinding up a 12% grade.

 

These Maine communities are deep in history, and share a common heritage that includes old churches, graveyards older than Seattle, and houses with a traditional architecture (and almost always painted white with black shutters)..

 

I reached Bar Harbor (or “Bah Hahbah” in Maine-speak) on a cold, wet Saturday – the first time in months that I felt cold while riding, and such a relief after the preceding hot, humid days.  Like a bad penny, I turned up again to enjoy the hospitality of my old college friend, Michael Lynes, whom I stayed with in Connecticut, and his wife, Kristine.  They have built a lovely post-and-beam house on Mt. Desert Island, and a new addition that will keep Michael busy for years finishing. He has an interesting hobby doing barn-raisings around New England, and their beautiful house is a testiment to this community practice as well as appreciation for wood and careful craftsmanship.

(Island Angels Michael and Kristine in Bar Harbor, ME.)

 

The end is in sight even through today’s coastal fog – I expect to reach Quoddy Head Lighthouse on Tuesday, weather and bicycle allowing.  Here is a map of my progress to date, with a little over 100 miles to go…

 

Thanks for your support all along this journey.  Stay tuned for a final post soon!

• Dave (posted 8/14/2016 from Northeast Harbor, ME)

(The Atlantic Ocean, at last!)

 

I crossed into Connecticut on back roads through the edge of the Appalachian Mountains from the Hudson River valley.   I got some good exercise on these hills – here in the East, where the roads date back to the 1700s, the grades are steep!  I discovered that most Connecticut river valleys run north-south, so as I traveled across the state (west to east), I had to go up-and-over the ridges between these valleys.

 

I peddled into New Haven, the largest city I have been in since Seattle.  It was so great to see my daughter, Veronica!  She is working on a Ph.D. in neuroscience at Yale and seems to be thriving in the research and academic setting.  I am a proud papa, for sure.

(Veronica in front of her apartment on bustling Chapel Street)

 

She rode with me to the harbor, where I could see Long Island Sound and thus the Atlantic Ocean.  I almost fell in doing the ceremonial dip of my front tire in this Eastern salt water!

 

I headed north by way of University of Connecticut to visit my old Colby College friend, Michael Lynes, who is a professor there.  It was a treat to catch up with this guy who shared my freshman dorm many decades ago.  He was yet another Road Angel as he put me up at his house on a rainy night.

Then I worked my way through hilly country and a steady rain into Rhode Island, including a stretch of “road” that Google maps put me on that went straight ahead into an old wood lane that looked like it hadn’t had any vehicles on it in decades.

(Google says keep going straight anead.)

Luckily it worked out, as I emerged onto paved roads after a couple miles.  One has to be careful with Google’s bicycle directions – I’ve had a few occasions where the computer routed me onto un- bicycleable spots and I have had to backtrack for miles.

 

My high school buddy, Michael White, met me inside the Rhode Island border and rode with me along beautiful rail-trails into Providence, where he teaches at Brown University.  It was a treat to have a college professor as a guide as we decended along the old Pawtuxet River, passing mill after mill that had thrived 200 years ago at the dawn of America’s industrial revolution.  Some of these impressive buildings have been converted into housing, while others are still empty, hoping for a new future.  Very few are still engaged in commercial production – we passed one factory that was still making soaps, but that seemed more the exception.

 

My reputation for enjoying craft beers, especially India Pale Ales, preceded me, as Michael collected a sampling of local micro-brews from Rhode Island. He and his wife, Jane, said this was the most beer they have ever had in their house!  We barely scratched the surface…

(Road angels Michael and Jane in Providence, RI)

 

Professor White guided me north the next day along the Blackstone River and its old canal through more 200+ year old industrial history. He turned back after seeing me across the line into Massachusetts, and I enjoyed the rolling hills on back roads to my sister Pat’s house in Concord, MA.  What a great feeling it was to arrive in that familiar driveway after 4500 miles of peddling and get a big hug from my sib, the best Road Angel of them all!

 

My two rest days at Pat and Bob’s place included getting fit for a new suit by my old elementary and high school buddy, Bob Brennan; minor repairs of the bicycle at a local shop; kayaking on the Sudbury River with my Philadelphia friend, Doug Wechsler, who happened to be in the neighborhood; dinner with Scott Cassel, Susan Podziba, and their daughter, Sarah in the North End of Boston; and enjoying meals and conversation with Pat and Bob in Concord. Busy but relaxing to not be on the bike.

(The First Parish Church, now a U.U.congregation, a few steps away from Pat and Bob’s place in historical downtown Concord, MA.)

 

(Sarah, Scott and Susan in Boston’s North End.)

 

I then peddled north, visiting my mom’s three remaining siblings and their spouses, as well as a few of my many cousins in the area.  It was wonderful to see all of these relatives, and they all tried to fatten me up.

(My Uncle George Lagasse with cousins Kathy, Elaine, Bill, Anne and Anne’s husband Brad in North Chelmsford, MA.)

 

(Uncle Jim and Aunt Marie Lagasse, who live in the house where my mom grew up in Haverhill, MA.)

 

(Uncle Ken and Aunt Joan (Lagasse) Veroneau in Plaistow, NH.)

 

Exeter, New Hampshire, was my next stop as I headed toward the coast and the final leg.  My college friend, Byrd Allen and his wife, Linda, were gracious hosts and Road Angels indeed. Always a pleasure to see them and catch up on their lives and that of their dog, Clipper.

 

And then the final leg.  Stay tuned as I cross the border into my thirteenth and final state, which has a very long coastline!  Here is the image of my progress to date as of New Hampshire.

 

Thanks for your interest and support.  The end is in sight!

— Dave (posted on August 8th from Cape Elizabeth, Maine)