Our bike shorts have extra padding, kind of like a sewn-in diaper, but only for absorbing road->butt forces. We wear special shirts to wick the sweat and special gloves to prevent road rash if we fall. We outfitted our helmets with two-way communicators that also connect to our cell phone for music, GPS directions, and even phone calls. Oh my. We each have a special pack to carry patch kits, and other bike accessories, first aid kit, a jacket, and, of course, something chocolate. When we get on our matching electric mountain bikes and set off for a ride, we definitely look like the geeks of the week – talking to each other.
And so it was for this 44-miler. Leaving the folding-chair folks staring at their mid morning smoking campfires, we rode a short section of highway, some back roads, and then into the Acadia National Park. Then the trees, the lakes, the rocky shores, the sailboats in the distance – it was as if they all coordinated with each other to make the sum more than the parts. Gorgeous.
This park goes back a long way, maybe the first in the country, and certainly a special place set aside by John D. Rockefeller (“Thanks, John!)” and a few of his other cronies and conservationists. By the way, I learned that John was the richest man in US history, having personal wealth equivalent to 2% of GDP. Not even Jeff Bezos or Bill Gates can claim that.
Nearly halfway through the ride, we stopped at the Jordan Pond House for a late lunch and a sample of their famous 100+ year specialty tradition, the popover. Popovers have a lighter crust than Yorkshire pudding, with a cavernous middle designed to fill with butter and blueberry jam. We dutifully obliged, with guilty smiles.
Back on the bikes and heading south, we ventured along a road outside the park and along the coast. Most of the homes there were 6-12,000 square foot summer cottages, and must have been Mr. Rockefeller’s great great grandchildren’s, or perhaps other aristocrats who located their second, or twelfth, homes nestled among the trees and rocks overlooking the Atlantic.
We circled back through Bar Harbor (pronounced “Bah Ha Bah), and slowed with the traffic and the crowds. Beautiful as it is, Acadia is over-toured. And we weren’t even there on a cruise ship day – yikes. We steeled ourselves, parked the bikes, and followed the camp host’s recommendation to Mt Desert Island Ice Cream. Soon, all the tension of the tourist crowds melted away with our double scoops of frozen excellence.
The eight miles home was a dream fueled by ice cream for this two wheeled geek team.
–Fred
I am always happy riding our bikes, so much fun and the pedal assist make hills a non issue, something we need to stay healthy as we move into our 60’s! Yum, Yum, Popovers! The Best! When we arrived back to the campground after our ride we both were talking about how much a quick swim would be in order. We got into our suits and walked to the pool, it was about 7:30pm and the sun sets about 8:15pm. When we got to the pool the gate was locked and no one was around “What”, the sign said the pools closes at 1/2 hour before dusk. That was an invitation for Fred to go inside the office and talk about the relative position of our latitude, tilted sun, dark matter, and the applicability of the “pool closes 1/2 hour before dusk” (I was ok with turning around and just take a shower) but no here comes Fred with the guy with the keys and they both had a smirk on their faces, the guy opened the gate and said have fun and enjoy! Fred is the BEST!
–Milissa
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