To Bustins Island, Casco Bay, Freeport, Maine

As I was getting closer and closer to leaving the good people of the Fryeburg New Church Assembly summer camp, I began to realize just how attached to them I had become. In three short days, less than 72 hours, I had made friends really connected with that community. As I left, three of them ran ahead of me to the end of the driveway and waved to me until I was out and gone down the road. They made me feel very special and I shed a few tears. That sense of leaving again hit me, but it passed a bit more quickly this time.

The actual riding was fairly good, even though I didn't end up leaving until 9:20 A.M. on Friday the 13th! I liked the roads quite a bit, and I stayed off the beaten paths a bit thanks to some good maps at Fryeburg and some advice from Deane. I especially liked the look of the town of Naples, ME, even though it was clearly designed for tourists. It was really clean and fun-looking. I estimated that I had plenty of time to ride the 40-50 miles and catch the 3:00 P.M. ferry to Bustins Island if I left about 9:00 A.M., so I planned in a stop for library computer use. I made that library stop fairly early on, in Bridgton, and used up an entire half hour on the internet. I also stopped into a sporting goods store to ask about the nearest bike shop.

Unfortunately, the nearest bike shop to my route was in the opposite direction from that in which I was headed. They said Conway had a bike shop, but that is westwards, in New Hampshire, and I was headed eastwards to the coast. I was worried that I would kick myself for the decision later, but I knew I had no intentions of turning around, even though the pump that I did have was broken, and might not have been fixable. I was carrying it along, just in case, but I had little hope it would help me in a jam.

In another shop later on the route, I was told that there were bike shops in Freeport. So, I figured I would be okay, riding the remaining 15-20 miles to Freeport. And then I began to realize something was wrong. I kept looking at my cyclocomputer which reports several types of data, and I realized that this stage was nearly complete if my original distance estimation was correct, but that I was only about halfway if my mental picture of the towns of Maine was correct. If I was going to catch the 3:00 P.M. ferry, I was going to have to hustle. So I did.

It was downhill for the most part, even though it didn't seem very dramatic at all. I was really starting to push hard as I came through Gray into Yarmouth, in search of Route 1 North. I looked at my clock and told myself that if I didn't reach Route 1 by 2:35--MAYBE 2:40--I was not going to make it in time. Then 2:40 came and went with not even a sign for Route 1, but I was clearly in Yarmouth now, and I kept pushing, despite my rational side which told me to take it easy on my body and just take the 5:00 P.M. ferry instead. But suddenly I found Route 1, and I couldn't help but keep pushing then.

I thought I would have several miles on Route 1 from Yarmouth to Freeport, but it sure seemed pretty short. Soon I spotted the restaurant where I ate dinner two summers ago when I biked to Bustins from home on my first real bike trip ever. That was exciting because I knew I was close now. The trouble was, I only had 10 minutes or less. So I really started to lay it on, and really started yell at myself up the hills. I was not mild in my yelling, but forceful, and it worked. Up the hills I pushed hard, down the hills and on the flats I pushed harder. From the time I reached the top of the hill by the restaurant to the time I reached the ferry dock I probably averaged 18 or 19 miles per hour, and the adrenaline was pumping full-force.

By now the stage was not 40, 50, or even 60 miles old, but rather 65 miles long, and I was tired. But I wasn't letting up as I could tell I had a real chance to make the ferry. As I turned down the street to the ferry, I caught sight of a welcome figure: Dave. I knew that he often cuts it close with timing, but isn't known for missing the ferry, so I whooped, and we made the ferry on time together, with about 1 or 2 minutes to spare. The sprint of the last several miles and the pushing hard even before that put me in such a great mood, having sprinted successfully. My average speed on the bike was the best of the trip to this point, at almost 15 m.p.h.. Best of all, I did it all with no flat tires, so I didn't have to deal with the pump issue.

My stay on Bustins with the wonderfully hospitable Ryan family was both relaxing and engaging. I got in three nights of wonderful frisbee, and one morning of tennis. A great sail on the one sunny day, and a great concert by Jeff Warner also made my stay a fabulous time. The hurricane/tropical storm talk beforehand had me believing I would both be riding through nasty weather on my bike to Bustins and experiencing nasty weather Sunday while on the island. As it turned out, the weather was mild, while not actually sunny, and I had no weather problems.

Bustins Island is one of my all-time favorite places to be. Things always taste better, are more fun, and are better for you on an island, and Bustins is a beauty. Dave Ryan and his family graciously took me in and fed me. Thank you so much!

Total stage distance:  65 miles
Total stage time:  5.5 hours
Net elevation change:  -500 feet

On to Stage 9: To Kittery, Maine

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