Stage 41 - Bangor to West Quoddy Lighthouse - July 4th Thursday 

I am up at 6:00 a.m. I had a difficult time sleeping anticipating today’s ride, ruminating on the past journey, and eager to go home. 

The final day is here.  The last ride of The Norseman’s Passage has arrived. It’s surreal how quickly time has passed. 

The weather is unbelievable again. Sunny. Nary a cloud. No discernible wind. Warm getting hotter. Maine and Mother Nature have been generous. 

DAY’S BEGINNING ... 

I look at the elevation map of our upcoming ride at breakfast. It is an image evoking countless jagged teeth, a constant series of ups and downs. I hope reality isn’t as bad as the picture. If it is, though, we are up for a challenge. Even more, I hope Maine’s roads are merely bad if not good and that we don’t encounter what we rode the last ten or so miles yesterday. 

We van to our departure point. It’s a short drive of 17 miles and gets us outside Bangor. We start our cycling in Maine’s countryside. 

TODAY’S RIDE PART 1 ... 

We finish our morning preparations and are ready to leave. Damn, Jonah’s rear tire has flatted. I decide this isn’t the time for a learning experience for David or Jonah. I take a few minutes myself replacing both tube and tire. It’s the fastest repair I’ve ever done and I’m pleased with my skill at this small task. 

We start off on route 9N. July 4th is a busy day and there is plenty of traffic. I don’t know if this is the common experience but I find Maine’s drivers accommodating and patient. 

The ride is fun. All three of us spend time riding together. Jonah rides up front with his dad. He drifts back and rides with me. At times, we ride alone separated by 50 to 100 yards. The various configurations we arrange ourselves in feel natural and comfortable. 

By midday, I am in trouble physically. The temperature is in the mid 90s and has been since early morning. A gentle wind would be nice but there is none. No clouds break the sun’s glare. Our road is more highway than byway. No shade provides a cool break. The heat radiating off the blacktop compounds the effects of the 90 degree weather. I am sweating like a pig and doing my best to stay hydrated but the sun is having its toil on me. 

The elevation map didn’t lie. We climb 3,500 feet in the first 52 miles. It’s grueling constantly going up and down and up again. I pace myself and limit my exertion as best I can but when you’re climbing, you have to work. 

Towards the end of the first half of our ride, Jonah and I spend most of our time together. Over the weeks riding and rooming together we have learned how to be comfortable with each other. We’re separated in age by four and a half decades yet we have found many ways to enjoy each other’s company. 

LUNCH BREAK ... 

After 52 miles cycling, we stop at P&J’s Grocery for lunch.  I feel out of sorts. The sun and heat are getting to me. I feel lethargic and flat. There is a limited food selection. Perhaps the best part of lunch are the two chocolate milks I drink and the Dove ice cream bar David buys me. 

Before we renew our ride, I revisit my gear. Off come the sun protectors I wear on my arms. I remove my head’s cap worn to divert sweat from my eyes. I take off my undershirt. 

TODAY’S RIDE PART 2 ... 

Luck is on my side! Two miles after P&J’s Grocery we turn off route 9N onto Jr Williams road. Shade, glorious shade!!! The break from direct sun is restorative. Lunch break provided needed rest. Energy from my meal kicks in. The cooler clothes help immensely. I’m feeling better and stronger. I’m still slower than David and Jonah and fall back. 

I decide to start Strava (a cycling application) to let my family monitor the last 58 miles of my participation in The Norseman’s Passage. I feel good knowing they are that much closer to what I’m doing. 

The cycling is fun again. I love Maine. Seeing a different part of the State from my bicycle is a joy. I’m probably suffering from too many endorphins but at times I feel moved to yell “I love Maine”. I don’t but that’s the joy I’m feeling being in Maine. 

I’m riding third most of the time. Jonah keeps drifting back to ride with me. Normally I’m in ‘the two position’ but not today. Jonah is the stronger cyclist. Suddenly, impromptu, he and I are racing each other. Uphill. It’s nuts. As Jonah pulls away, I quickly concede. I’m happy he’s victorious. It’s testament to his development. 

The day drags on. I’m having trouble staying in the moment. I can feel the end and the distraction draws me. We ride through East Machias where I catch my first smell of salt water. Emotions overwhelm me - this smell has marked the beginning of Maine Time for decades in my life - and I cry, briefly. 

The second half of the ride is every bit as lumpy as the first. We climb another 3,500 feet in the last 58 miles. In total, today’s ride has the most climbing in the Norseman’s Passage. 

We cycle along Maine’s coastline. I think about all that has happened the past 40 days to bring me to this point. Once again I find myself crying. Again briefly. I’m not very good at crying and make a miserable mess of it when I do for any extended period.

Ironically the temperature has dropped but to another extreme: it’s in the mid 60s. Ahh Maine, I do love thee. I put on all that I took off earlier: undershirt, cap, arm covers. Doing so warms me but also drops me further behind David and Jonah. 

Once again Jonah comes to the rescue. Or said perhaps more correctly, he waits to be rescuer. I catch up and we’re riding together again. His presence helps me carry on. I match his pace and the miles drop away  ...begrudgingly. The Norseman’s Passage won’t end easily. 

Jonah is having a totally awesome ride. We average 14.5 MPH for the day and Jonah never wavers. It’s a noteworthy accomplishment especially given all the climbing involved. 

THE LAST TWENTY MILES ... 

I am totally gassed. There’s another hour plus of riding and my legs are dead. I don’t hurt. I just don’t have anything left. I’m empty. 

I think about Terri and my daughters. I wish so much that they were waiting for me at journey’s end. I know Terri’s schedule precluded her being here; she’s had a busy week with meetings and the veterinarian. I schemed with my daughters for months on how to get them here and nothing worked; northern Maine is so remote. I fantasize how it would feel to be greeted by family and tell myself to stop. I want to define journey’s end by who is here.

My cycling is being driven totally on emotion. My legs are gone. But a team of wild horses couldn’t pull me off The Slim Miss Piggy. I am finishing The Norseman’s Passage on my bike. 

We’re a mile away. David, Jonah, and I race each other. I have brief bursts of energy that I squander in fun. Away go David and Jonah. I’ll meet them at the Lighthouse. 

I video the last couple tenths of my ride. I want to share these moments later via text with Terri and my daughters in a message we’ve been sharing today. 

I join David and Jonah at the entrance to the West Quoddy Lighthouse. The ‘finish’ is twenty-five yards further but we linger at the entrance enjoying the view. 

David, Jonah, and I start moving slowly downhill towards the lighthouse.

SURPRISE SURPRISE ... 

I see a couple people emerge from the building. The furthest woman has short hair, vaguely familiar. The young lady in front has longer straight hair, also vaguely familiar. She starts moving quickly uphill. Samantha? Jennifer? Who’s the second woman? It can’t be Terri, she’s in Atlanta. Which means that other person can’t be Samantha or Jennifer either. I’m confused. 

“Hey, someone needs to come down here; their wife is waiting” shouts someone else by the lighthouse. What’s going on? I want to shout out Terri and Jennifer’s names but cannot. These people below me are surely meeting someone else, someone behind me. Calling out Terri’s name would be the height of embarrassment. 

The young lady starts running uphill. Doubt vanishes. It is Jennifer. The other woman is Terri. I start running. Jennifer and I collide in one big hug. I hug her tighter. I can’t believe it. Terri is here!!! Jennifer is here!!! Emotions start to overwhelm me and I catch myself. I want to hug Terri. Now I’m with Terri. We kiss. We hug. I’m happy beyond words. 

Terri shares notes from each of my daughters. One from my son in law. There are notes from my grandchildren. The messages are sweet. 

Terri pulled off the biggest surprise. She and my daughters and friends masterminded a deception that totally hoodwinked me. 

More happens the rest of the evening (pictures, hotel, dinner, a walk) but I’ll end this blog here. 

This moment - hugging Terri  - is The Perfect Ending to my Norseman’s Passage.