My Route

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Day 2: Tuesday, 3rd July. Destination: Blue Skye Farm B&B, Waldoboro, Maine

Breakfast with the bikers in Verona. That’s Verona Island across the river (where we ate last night). I revolted E&E by ordering oatmeal, which I have a soft-spot for. Plus, here I get to laden it down with maple syrup, brown sugar and raisins. Heading down the coast Edward was having bike problems: his front brake sticking. He had to stop and get it fixed. The first bike shop we came to didn’t look too hopeful, and the guy wasn’t going to put himself out by doing anything in a hurry, but none-the-less we decided that Edward would stay while Ewa & I press on to Belfast, 7 miles ahead, to see if the shop there could offer a speedier service. Well, it couldn’t. But on the bright side, our guy said Edward’s mechanic was probably the best in the area. We relayed this to him via the bike shop phone, and agreed that Ewa & I should press on at a leisurely pace and let Edward catch us up.

And so we had spinach savoury snacks in Belfast; lunch at a lovely old trading post in Lincolnville Center (where Ewa befriended the trading post dog); stopped for ice-cream in the pretty seaside town of Rockport; and enjoyed wending our way through more picturesque Maine countryside before arriving in Waldoboro just as we were beginning to feel a bit tired. The place we were staying, however, turned out to be a bit of a distance from the centre of town, one of those places that are always round the next corner. A very charming farmhouse B&B built in 1775, but in the middle of nowhere.

Edward arrived 45 minutes later, safe and sound but having neglected stopping for ice-cream and scenic views. We had to cycle our weary way back into town to eat, but were rewarded by good food, real ale and live bluegrass music, “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou” style, at the Narrows Tavern. A fine evening. Even the cycle back to the B&B in darkness, with a heaven full of stars above us and our blinking bike lights illuminating the road in front, seemed determined to compensate for the out-of-town inconvenience. I think it’s safe to say we slept like logs.