Rides on a paved road.
The plan was simple: Leave Portland early and ride up to Greenville, Maine – 157 miles north: three hours, forty-five minutes away. Okay, I can't do 60 miles per hour, so let's call it about four hours plus a little bit more.
My BRW (Beautiful Redheaded Wife) called me "a dreamer". Actually, she told me that I really, really, should think a bit more about going up-country in April. For those not living in Maine, April is just about mid-winter: a least another month is needed before we even begin to mention Spring.
But. I convinced Tom Keene, of Scooter By The Sea fame:
that it would be fun, and he agreed, so I figured "how wrong could I be?"
This was the plan:
Start at the bottom and go to the top. On the way home, start at the top and go to the bottom, with one difference: a choice of either of two routes – leader's choice.
Well, at least we made it to Farmington: 78.6 cold, wet, miles.
By that time, we had been showered upon, winded upon, buffered by the many, many logging trucks headed in the opposite direction, and (did I mention that it is April?) cold-ed upon enough that we were ready to stop and smell the flowers.
Farmington: Home of the Twice Sold Tales Bookstore and the Wicked Gelato, a soup, sandwich and gelato store. How could we resist? So we parked, made ourselves presentable and trundled in.
The bookstore managed to take half our coins; the gelato shop, the rest.
Thus fortified, we decided upon our next steps. A quick call to Greenville, provided us with the knowledge that they had received snow the night before (it's April after all), and that the wind was blowing and it was a bit "chilly". It was the "chilly" that clinched it. It was time to bow to reality and scoot home, via the red-line route.
Relieved of the pressure to make it to Greenville, we were able to stop and grab a few shots of the fantastic views.
And, as we were punch-drunk from riding in cold, wet, weather, we even took pictures of each other taking pictures.
And so, our road to Greenville turned out to be a "Good Intentions" road – paved, true, and hellish, also true.
One-hundred, seventy-four (and a bit more) miles later, I slid into my local DD, grabbed a coffee (black and large, thank you) and, sitting back, watched the traffic go by.
Next time, with luck, the road to Greenville will be better paved.