Mission Accomplished?

. . . In the words of our venerable former president. And as George stood on the deck of that ship making his pronouncement, little did he understand that the mission had just begun.  And so, I suspect, it is with me.  The physical journey has come to its end. The understanding has barely begun.  The people I have met, the places I have seen, the experiences I have had will forever touch my life.

(This post will have noticeably fewer photos. Why? Bev took my camera in Burlington. The Thompsons gave me a copy of their photos but I can't open them. So, this post will have noticeably fewer photos. Sorry.)

THE ROAD TO BURLINGTON

The trip from Ticonderoga up to Burlington took me first along the west shore of Lake Champlain in New York and then across the bridge in Crown Point and up the east shore in Vermont. A treat of smooth, quiet back roads with picturesque views of farms and the lake. It nice to see so many small farms apparently thriving. Contrast this with the get big or get out nature of farming seen in the mid-west. Nice to know that there is still a place for both.

The new bridge across Lake Champlain from New York to Vermont.


I stopped at a small store on the way for "second breakfast". Why is there always country music playing in these stores? Must be some kind of federal law. Here I met Maurice, out for a ride on his lightweight carbon road bike. We made fast friends and resolved to do a two person pace line for the balance of 21 miles into Burlington, he on his 16 pound bike and me on my 70 pounder.Must have looked an odd sight but with the thought of seeing Bev I was hot on his back wheel and he on mine on the downhills.

  Maurice paces me into Burlington. Does it look like I wore him out?

Bev and I had a wonderful visit, like a couple of newlyweds. It was hard to say goodbye but made easier with the knowledge that I'd soon be home.

Joe and Rhonda Thompson caught up with us the second night, had a chance to meet Bev and poke around town with us. (What is it with these people that keep following me around?  I reluctantly agreed to let them carry my bags for the rest of the trip and to let Rhonda resume cooking for me and supplying me cold beers at the end of the day's ride. I didn't know what else to do.)

Bob gets a spruce-up in the hotel in Burlington in preparation of the final leg of the ride.

OVER THE MOUNTAIN AND THROUGH THE WOODS.

The road from Burlington brought me over the Kancamagus Highway through the White Mountains in New Hampshire and into the woods of western Maine. Often have a driven the Kancamagus; it was a thrill to bike it. The climb to the peak at 2890 was very manageable, the views spectacular, the the last big coast of the trip into Conway, fun.

Here I am at the peak of the Kancamagus with some friends. (What, the sign says Katahdin?  How'd that happen? What do you mean I'm not in this picture? Ok, Ok, remember I didn't have my camera?  This was the best I could do on short notice. Sorry.)

The woods of Maine proved more challenging than I had expected with constant rollers ("hills" for you non-bike types) with a day's ride adding up to some significant climbs. It was nice to arrive on the coast and the territory I could call home.

NOT DONE YET.

On August 15th Joe and I rolled down Perry Road and into the driveway. Paul had stretched a ribbon across the road labeled "Finish". (Odd, because I'm largely English and Irish.) I luxuriated in the company of my friends, family and familiar surroundings. Bev and I celebrated our 33rd anniversary on the 16th. Rhonda, Joe, Bev and I headed for New Harbor for some lobster. Brother Ed arrived from New Jersey with brother Paul in tow, a wonderful surprise. Friend's visited. I spent time with my mom, siblings from New Jersey and siblings from Maine. Karen and Alan arrived on their continued cross country trip to visit and later we had a delightful meal at mutual friends (and discovered we had more mutual friends). And yet, and yet, there was still some unfinished business. . . .


SEEMS AS IF YOU CAN GET THERE FROM HERE.

Most cross country bikers end their ride in Bar Harbor. Bar Harbor? That's practically on the west coast! No, the end of my ride lay two days and 115 miles east from home in Lubec, Maine. On August 21st, Joe, Paul, and Ed accompanied me on this last epic portion of the journey (we allowed Rhonda to "sag" us as a special favor to her). A cadre of friends and family awaited at ocean-side to help us celebrate. What a fitting way to bring my trip to an end.

(There was a camera in attendance for the last day.  Thanks to Bill Lagerstrom for most of these shots as well as the front wheel picture in the main part of the blog.)

Pace line down Route One

Says "Easternmost".

Is this guy excited or upset?  Looks like some seaweed on that wheel.

Cheers!

Thanks, Bev.

What can I say?  It speaks for itself.

RE-ENTRY.

So it's back to the demands, comforts, and pleasures of everyday life.

To all who have graced this journey, you will forever be a part of the fabric of my life. For those of you whom I have contact information: I look forward to reaching out to each of you individually.  Please be patient with me.

I'm not ready to make any observations, pronouncements about the trip.  Give me time and look for a post at a later time.

Peace