Gig Harbor Washington to Bar Harbor Maine 2001

I waited until I could see sunlight before I got up. I was determined to get on the road early. Then I found out that Greg was making us pancakes. We had breakfast and got to know his wife, Vickie. They had taken a bike tour of Canada about 20 years ago. They were looking for a non-existent laundry that was shown on their maps. When they asked an old man where it was, he told them there wasn't one, but they were welcome to use his washer. They also stayed the night with him. Their kindness to us was just passing along the favor. We'll have to keep an eye out for bikers in need, if we ever get home

After breakfast, we packed up and they led us, like a docile team of horses, through their pasture to the highway. We avoided the sandy gravel road and got to see a bit of their spread. They have 700 acres with about 120 quarter horses, plus cattle and hay. They offered to let us help them bale and haul the hay he'd cut yesterday but we didn't want to impose any further.

Greg and Vickie.

We rode about 10 miles back into Brainerd. We ran into a couple on bikes. He was riding a Rans. They assured us that our intended route would be a disaster on the Sunday after the 4th and our destination campground would be full. We decided we'd ride to Garrison at the top of Mille Lacs and reevaluate. Kathryn had a flat near the only restaurant around, a highway franchise with an abundance of Sunday customers and incompetent help. We ate an enormous amount of food, more chicken fried steak for Kathryn and me.

It was hot when we got back on the road and the traffic was thick. It was better when we got through Brainerd and onto a smaller road but the holiday traffic was scary. Which would be the drunk? We made it to Garrison and I pulled into an outdoor store looking for stove fuel. When I came out, Garcia and Katherine were talking to a guy in spandex on a road bike. He assured us that the route the other couple had recommended had no shoulders and every road would be full of post holiday traffic. He recommended that we camp out at his house and wait out the weekend. We've learned our lesson and didn't hesitate to accept.

Pat Lanin had only done 20 of the 80 k he planned to ride, so we got some ice cream and some dinner supplies before heading for his house. The road to his house is a mile and a half of bad gravel. He and his wife, Emily, pulled up (in their car - they drive their bikes out the gravel road) as we started up the gravel and ordered us to stop in the shade, he'd be right back with a trailer. The trailer battered the bikes a bit, but he brought ice cold pop and beer for our ride.

Pat and Emily.

Their house is right on Camp Lake, with beautiful gardens, a cabin with lots of beds, a shop to work on our bikes, a workshop for Emily's pottery, miles and miles of mountain bike trails and cross country ski trails and a dock with a boat, canoe and paddle boat. Kathryn and I paddled out into the lake and jumped in. It was wonderful, warm on top, cool underneath. Kathryn and Emily combined our dinner supplies with theirs and created a huge and delicious spaghetti dinner followed by ice cream with berries from their garden.

I sat on their balcony to write, overlooking Camp Lake, listening to loons and watching several hummingbirds trying to get the nerve to eat at the feeder over my head. They have bright red throats with a white collar underneath. Ruby throated hummers. Loons are calling occasionally. Pat's been going over maps with Gridley while I've been writing and the kids went paddle boating through the mosquitos. It's about time for bed. Gridley and I chose to pitch tents overlooking the lake rather than sleep in the cabin. He likes to sleep in his own bed.