One Day on Plane = Sixty on my bike

I cracked open “The Power of One” by Bryce Courtenay just after boarding my 7:00am flight to Philadelphia. As I read I came across a quote which read “Ahead of me lay the dreaded Mevrou, the Judge and the jury, and the beginning of the power of one - how I learned that in each of us there burns a flame of independence that must never be allowed to go out.” Hmmm. Tell me more.

My bags were packed, my bike was shipped, and I was on the brink of the adventure of my lifetime. As I sat there on that jet, it was strange to think that I am going to spend the next couple of months as a bicycle migrant, making my way across the North American continent; that I am responsible for every single decision. I looked down at the news on my phone and saw the headline screaming that Category 3 hurricane Irene is targeting New England. Good thing I brought my rain coat.

When I arrived in Bar Harbor, in a relatively small propeller style plane at a single terminal, basically unmanned airport, the magnitude of what I was doing hit me. I was on my own, the cool ocean breeze was chilling compared to the sauna heat wave I have been used to in Phoenix. I made friends with a woman, named Linda, on the plane who turned out to be a retired high school English teacher. After talking for a couple of seconds at the “baggage claim,” which consisted of a woman in a vest heaving bags from under the wing towards us herded passengers, she offered to drive me to my hotel. As we made our way to Bar Harbor, she revealed facts and tid-bits of interesting information. This included the idea that many tourists explore Cadillac Mountain since it is the first part of North America to see the rising sun each morning. I don’t know if this is true or not but it sounds like it’s worth checking out. Soon after, we dropped by my hotel room and she was gracious enough to take me to the nearby grocery store. Linda, I love you.

So it’s been an epic day of travel, and now I must bid you adieu. Goodnight.