Ah home, sweet, home and the post-bicycle touring blues!
I brake for donuts.
Maine disintegrates at its eastern most point into a series of islands located in the Passamaquoddy Bay. Extreme tides and a place I’d love to come back to kayak.
“It seems like every third person in Maine has a dumptruck!” I told the young, overweight guy in a sleeveless, green smock of a shirt as I took a picture of his truck. With a flat smile, he said, “There ain’t nothin’ else to do here.”
Instant shots of Maine.
As long as I can remember I’ve wanted to go to Acadia. It’s been a rough start to the tour, but the folks I’ve met have made it worth the ride.
What if the bit of you that is your natural legacy diminishes, lies unrecognized, remains hidden.
These are the questions doped-up kids and failures ponder. I think about it all the time.