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Riding the TransAm Trail in 2015 opened my eyes to a whole new kind of adventuring experience. No, I'm not referring to off-pavement epic adventures though that was certainly a big one for that. What I'm talking about is seeing America and its rich diversity of cultures, people, ways of living, and how people around the country find their own brand of happiness. So, when a friend of mine that lives in Georgia called me recently to ask me to join him on a ride to Fort Kent Maine on US 1, I jumped at the opportunity.

Several years ago, he rode US 41 from the driveway of his office in Atlanta all the way to Copper Harbor Michigan and back. I have to admit that I'm also intrigued by the concept of cutting a slice across America that isn't necessarily defined by great motorcycle roads and just experiencing whatever comes along the route. It is fascinating to me to see how people live in places other than me. We'd all love to do an around the world trip to experience this but the lower 48 states of the US also afford a broad diversity of people, places, and cultures. You just need to get out and do an epic ride on the road less traveled that crosses time zones more than once.

The plan was to lock on to US 1 just north of Baltimore MD going north and follow it to the end in Fort Kent Maine. Ordinarily I'd say Route 1 from Washington DC, through Baltimore, Philly, NYC, Boston, and up through Portland would hold no appeal to me at all and could be compared to, oh, say, a root canal of a ride. But there's something intriguing about this ride in trying to accomplish it during the pandemic with the possibility that we may have to get by without interacting with anyone or needing anything but gas and food.

We weren't sure what to expect so we were committed to camping every night of the trip if needs be even if there's no open campgrounds. In that event, we'd stealth camp popping our tents down after dark and being gone by sunrise - something we've done before. And as if it wasn't enough adventure taking this kind of trip during a pandemic and varying attitudes about lock-downs, now we have to think about the places we might encounter angry brick throwing mobs.

My friend arrived last Friday night and though we got away from Annapolis MD a bit latter than we planned, we hoped to put NYC behind us before dark. We approached this with no set itinerary and our only goal is to get to Fort Kent Maine on US 1, maybe taunt some French Canadians across the border Monty Python style, and then take a much more scenic back country ride through the wilds of New England on our way back south - about 2,500 miles if all went according to expectations.

When we left we joked that it wasn't out of the realm of possible that we'd get arrested and put in quarantine for 14 days before we got back or get diverted due to protests on the northbound leg. We left instructions for our wives that if the updates stopped to send bail money. As it turned out, we just happened to do this ride at a specific point in time that was right on the cusp of opening up and found it interesting how we found ourselves from time to time just on either side of locked-down.

 

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Saturday morning we fooled around catching up and didn't get away until about 8:30a. We set out from Annapolis to bypass Baltimore and hook on to US 1 just north of the beltway on our way up toward the infamous Conowingo Dam. I say "infamous" because to those of us who live on the Chesapeake Bay, the management of this dam frequently releases a crap-ton of debris down the Susquehanna River and it all washes up along our shores down here. Not a pretty sight if you're a recreational boater. But I digress.

The ride up through Maryland and into PA is a rambling and nice ride until we got to the outskirts of Philadelphia where we were expecting to see some of the result of rioting. Just the night before we left it was in the news that rioters had been dynamiting ATM machines not too far off our route. We rolled into Philly about lunch time. There were some boarded up stores but it all looked like preemptive protection for store fronts more than damage:




We dropped into a Mission BBQ restaurant that had picnic tables outside on the parking lot expecting to be able to sit and enjoy our pulled-pork sandwiches there. Nope. Outside dining was not yet permitted in PA so we walked about 20' farther away and sat under a shade tree to have our lunch. We were the only people there an there was no sign of anyone else coming or going around noon time showing us how tough this lock-down has been on restaurants.

We continued on US 1 the rest of the way through Philadelphia toward NJ and saw no more evidence of unrest but plenty of empty parking lots just about everywhere. The route goes by Ft. Lee and into the Bronx. Again, the evening before we left, we watched the news where looters were carrying out armloads of expensive purses and clothes from stores there. Just as we crossed the GW bridge a torrential rain hit us so instead of roaming through the middle of the Bronx on US 1, we stayed on the expressway until we were north of the city and headed to Connecticut.

Entering Connecticut, the contrast along US 1 was quite striking. Leaving NYC where it's, well, about as urban and diverse as you'll find anywhere on earth, we rambled through sea side towns like Greenwich and Stamford where the Maserati and Porsche dealerships were filled with 6 figure cars and, needless to say, there wasn't much protesting going on.

I have some friends in Norwalk CT which offered us an easy solution to where we'd stay on our first night on the trip. One of these dear friends has an underlying heart condition and was understandably being as cautious as he should have been about avoiding the plague. They graciously invited us to pop down our tents down in their back yard and we spent the evening hanging out (well distanced) over a most excellent cookout.



Up early with the sun the next day, we were again treated to an excellent breakfast by my friends and said our fully armored and protected goodbyes:

 
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On the second day of our ride, we worked our way up the coast of Connecticut where we saw the only signs of protest in the beautiful little town of Mystic. There were 6 pretty angry looking young ladies on the corner holding signs that said "Don't hate!" on them. Since we thought that's an excellent way to be we waved at them and rode on to Massachusetts. We were in the neighborhood of the home of the NE Patriots around lunch time and found a great locally owned burger joint that was open for take-out and where they had all kinds of opinions about Tom Brady leaving for Tampa Bay. These kind folks were mostly of the opinion that they hoped he had a short and painful season there. Yikes.

Anywho, US 1 bypasses downtown Boston so we skipped our stops at MIT and Harvard for t-shirts. "Hey, did you go to Harvard?" "Yep, that's where I got the shirt." I know, that's a bad dad joke and not enough reason to try to visit what would have probably been a closed bookstore anyway.

Onward where we ended up stopping in Ogunquit Maine. Now, as I mentioned we were prepared for camping every night but thought it might be interesting to interact with some locally owned businesses to see how they were dealing with the pandemic solutions. We dropped in to what was obviously a small, low key, locally owned motel, slipped on a mask, and wandered inside.

Us: "What's the story here with getting some rooms?"

Deskperson: "Well, if you're from Maine or an essential person we can rent you a room."

Us: "We're not from Maine."

Deskperson: "Unless you're an essential person, you have to quarantine for 14 days. What do you do for a living?"

Us: "We work in construction."

Deskperson in a very friendly and excited manner: "Excellent! Then you can have these two rooms."

We got our laundry done and walked about 100 yards up the road to a Thai place with outside dining and had a tasty meal of drunken noodles and called it a night.
 

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As I mentioned previously, there was no itinerary for this trip but I'd done a fair bit of research for what we might pass along the way up US 1 N. After getting north of Portland, the first thing we came across was the home of Delorme, now owned by Garmin, and the maker of the Inreach Explorer I had in my jacket pocket for tracking our trip for our friends and family. Delorme Drive is right on US 1 and we pulled in there at about 7:30a to see the big ball - Eartha Globe - the largest spinning globe on earth according to the wonderful people at Delorme.



Just as I was hopping back on my bike to return to the parking lot, a concerned gentleman pulled up on the curb to chastise me for riding on the side walk and told me that I should have used my legs to go take my photo instead of riding my bike up on the sidewalk. I politely replied that it looked like they were inviting me to do what I did by having nice access points on the curb and a convenient turn around area for me; and, besides, my bike was too heavy for me to carry there with my legs to get the photo. He just smiled and said it happens all the time and no harm, no foul. Just don't do it again. No problem.



Next stop for breakfast was the LL Bean mothership in Freeport ME. Rolling in to Freeport on a Sunday morning was a bit like being survivors of the apocalypse. The place was completely deserted at 8:30a and not a single place was open - not even the Starbucks.



Since about half my closet is full of LL Bean clothes, we wandered around here a little bit waiting on them to open up at 9a for seniors to shop.



Another closed place, Wicked Whoopies (more on that delicacy later):


There's a little cafe there called the "1912" in the LL Bean complex that we noticed had the door ajar so we poked our head in and asked the nice lady in there if she was open. "I can be!" was her reply. See, that's what I'm talking about - some entrepreneurial attitude - something we were happy to see so it immediately brightened our morning. We ate our breakfast sandwiches and coffee in this deserted plaza and had a very nice conversation with the owner who was from northern Maine and gave us some great tips about what to see and do as we got up there.



If you find yourself in Freeport ME definitely go and see Renee at the 1912 for some great food and to help a hustling small business owner.
 
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One of the things that Renee at the LL Bean Cafe told us about was the lighthouse at the eastern most point in the USA. It was only about 30 mi. round trip off our US 1 route so we went off to find it:







We were close enough to Canada here that unbeknownst to me, my phone had sync'd up on a Canadian network activating my international day plan making the lighthouse visit cost me $10. Definitely worth it - this spot was spectacularly beautiful looking out across the water to the Canadian islands there. We also met the lighthouse keeper and his family that were out playing on the lawn and enjoying the weather with no black flies around (foreshadowing of things to come).

Before we left on the trip, I'd found a reference to the scale model solar system project:

The Maine Solar System Model

I totally forgot we were to be looking for the planets until we can across Jupiter standing right along side US 1:





So how's that for epic? How many of you can say you've been to Jupiter on a ride?

Not too far beyond Presque Isle we saw a sign on the highway that said something like "TransAtlantic launch site this way." So again, having nowhere to be and all day to get there we rounded up in the road and ambled a few miles down a country road to this:







So far, so good on the effort to see some interesting things from our named route track to the northern end. One of the other things that Renee told us about was the four corners park in Madawaska - designated as one of the corners of the USA and apparently a place that a lot of Harley Riders visit - which brings me to another question that was puzzling me about this time on the ride. How can Harley Davidson be in trouble? I'm going to say that something like 19 out of 20 motorcycles we saw on this entire 2500 mile trip where Harleys. If they're selling that many motorcycles, or even if Harley riders are just using them more than the rest of us, then why can't they make this business work for them? Flawed business model I think is likely the answer but that's another question for another time. We got to the Madawaska Four Corners Park and it was all about Harley Davidson:







Now, don't get me wrong. I love the fact that HD obviously sponsored this fine park; and, for that matter that there are so many motorcyclists out enjoying life on two-wheels on Harleys. I'm just puzzled that they can't seem to make that work as a business.
 
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Before we knew it, we were pulling up to the very end of US highway 1 at the Canadian border crossing in Fort Kent Maine.







But I looked around standing at the monument and decided that we were still about 100' from the end of US 1 which, by my reckoning, was in the middle of the intersection of the border crossing, US 1, 161, and 11. So I wandered out and stood in the middle of the intersection and took my selfie, with a US Border Agent giving me the eye, thus proving that the actual, ACUTAL, end of US 1 had been attained:





Of course, while we were there standing on the bank of the river separating the US from Canada, we took the opportunity to shout some insults Monte Python style at the French Canadians on the other side:

"You tiny brained socialist with your boy prime minister and your hairy armpit women! You know everything in Canada is smaller, eh! We direct our American exhaust in your general direction!"

Woowee, we sure showed them.
 
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I commemorated the northern end of our quest with a celebratory Whoopie Pie.



This particular northern delicacy has a special and hilarious place in the history of our riding group. If I may digress for a post.... Several years ago we were all in Acadia NP coming home from a trip to Nova Scotia. There's one guy in our group that always gets the attention of the ladies. He's a faithfully married guy and has never encouraged this behavior but it's pretty obvious sometimes when a woman is flirting and fawning all over him. So there's this prominent feature in Acadia called Cadillac Mountain and we all thought it was pretty funny to start telling people in these flirting moments that his stripper name was - Cadillac Mountain. As we were all gassing up leaving the Bar Harbor area, we see Caddilac Mountain talking to a pretty woman just outside the store. He wanders over to us at the bikes with this big grin on his face holding something that looked like the photo above and announced to us "That pretty young lady just offered me her whoopie pie." Because we all regress to the average intelligence of middle school boys on these motorcycle trips, that pronouncement dropped us right there in the parking lot and we laughed hysterically for an embarrassingly long time.

Since Cadillac Mountain wasn't on this particular trip to Fort Kent, I had to send him the above photo telling him that some of us have to pay for whoopie pie.
 

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Having attained our goal at the end of US 1, the plan now was to head off into the back country wilds of central Maine. We set off down Hwy 11 until we reached Stacyville, turned west toward Millinocket at the south end of Baxter State Forest, and ended up at the Big Moose Campground and Cabins. I lost count of how many times we saw this sign or something similar:



I can however tell you how many times we sighted a moose. Zero. Nada. It's my belief that all the moose have moved on to other places and that Maine puts these signs everywhere to keep up the appearance that these mythic animals still inhabit the state. Prove me wrong. When we left Maine we resolved to order up a Moose Xing sign and take it with us and put it up on the causeway when we make the south end of this US 1 trip to Key West.

We were the only people at this campground and had our pick of the tent sites or cabins so we jumped into this two room accommodation right on the lake:



This is when the black flies decided to show up as we were unloading the bikes into the cabin. I'm told that these aren't bad in June and don't really get that way until August when they hold the Black Fly Festival in Allagash (no, I'm not making that up.). I'm going to call bovine scat on that because this was Alfred Hitchcock bad. Like Stephen King, black flies are part of a hive mind intelligent alien, bore into your brain and take you over for their evil bidding bad. In June. That's the reason we ultimately decided to leave the tents packed and grab the cabin. That's my story anyway.

This is what I saw out the big slider window when I awoke the next morning:


Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning... More on that later...

We took off by 6a and found ourselves on Golden Rd, a nicely groomed dirt/gravel forest road that eventually turned into a bit less nicely groomed, then some ruts and rocks, but never got anywhere near uncomfortable. We kicked up some dust for about 25 or 30 miles until we emerged down around Greenville on Moosehead Lake. Our general goal was to try to make it to Lake Placid by night so we headed down and hooked on to Highway 2 going west - this was a really nice ride through the rest of Maine into NH where we rolled in to Gorham around lunch time. Now, Gotham is the local nice town at the foot of the Mt. Washington Auto Road up to the top of the mountain. We talked about it and decided since we'd been there, done that, and had the sticker, that we'd find a place for lunch.

Please let me digress again for a moment. We first started these trips in 2011 when we rented Harley Ultra Classics and rode from Seattle to LA on the PCH. We started jokingly calling ourselves "The Road Hawgs." So, now back to the present - we're rolling along 2 through Gorham and see this sign:



A general rule of thumb for anyone blessed enough to be born in the Deep South of the USA is that there's no point in visiting a BBQ joint much north of the Carolinas because, well, they just don't know anything about good BBQ. Hey, I don't try to tell you what makes for good pirogies or whoopie pie, so please don't judge me because I have a discriminating palate for delicacies offered up by the noble pig. But, in this case, the sign sucked us in. As we walked in, a couple of people eating at the outdoor dining area told us that we had to try the Paradise pulled pork - it was the best they'd ever eaten. We trusted them and let me just say that if I could have yakked it up in the parking lot before jumping on the bike, I would have. I didn't even take a photo of it, it was so disgusting. It was basically stringy shoe leather soaked in a pineapple/jalapeno sauce dumped over a bed of soggy French fries. W. T. F. By the way, this place spoiled what was a streak of excellent meals we'd had thus far on the trip.
 
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So disgusted by what NH had done to us that we didn't even stop the rest of the way through that state and Vermont until we got to the Essex Charlotte ferry across Lake Champlain.



It was a reasonably nice ride from there over to Lake Placid, a place I'd never been to before. As we crested the hill down in to the town we were greeted by the sight of the twin ski jump towers from the 1980 Olympics:





I can't imagine standing at the top of that thing with a pair of skis on my feet and saying, "let's do this!" Nope. I'm not sure I even admire people who do it because it's likely just a mental illness, right?



Lake Placid, at least during the pandemic shutdown, looks a little worse for wear with not many places open. We scored a couple of rooms at the Best Western in the middle of town and walked down the street to forage for food. Nothing was open for inside or outside dining but we found a place who's door was still open 10 minutes after a 7p closing time. We again stuck our head in and asked if they'd make us some dinner and they said "Of course, come on in!" Properly adorned with mask and keeping our distance we ordered up what I can rightfully say made up for the horrid lunch we had. The Purple Saige in Lake Placid is worth your business if you ever find yourself here. The chicken saltimbocca was probably the best I've ever had. Sorry, no food porn photo - I was so hungry I ate it before I thought to take a picture.
 
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The next morning we woke up to the first weather that wasn't pretty much perfect on the entire trip. And it was a gully washer.


We diddled around a while until it slacked off a bit and this hit the road with the goal of enjoying a ride through the Adirondacks. Once the rain slacked off, we saddled up and started working our way through the Adirondacks toward Seneca Lake and Geneva. We thought the rain had passed us by but in less than an hour we were in it again. Nothing too worrisome but just wet and overall it was a memorable ride through a beautiful part of upstate NY.
 

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We spent the morning admiring the scenery and nice roads through the Adirondacks toward Seneca Lake and Geneva. I'd never been there and was looking forward to the ride but it continued to dump on us, off and on for a while during the morning - nothing too worrisome but just wet and overall it was a memorable ride through a beautiful part of upstate NY. We ended up in Seneca Lake for lunch at some tables outside a take-out Italian place and started discussing where we'd like to end up that evening. I'd done some searching around before the trip and discovered that there's a few things in this region that might be interesting to see. The finger lakes region is known for its wineries and scenery also for a couple of other things of note. Watkins Glen is at the south end of the lakes, home of the NASCAR IROC races and many club races at the regional and national level. The other thing of note nearby is a place known in the Mormon religion as the Camorah. A couple of the guys that I've been riding with over the last decade are Mormon and from time to time we've been known to drop in and see something of historical significance in their faith. Since it was only about 30 miles away, and my friend hadn't been there since the '70s, that's where we headed after lunch.

While we're riding over that way I started thinking about how many Mormon places of significance I'd seen. On a ride to Glacier, we rode along the Mormon pioneer trail, Winter Quarters in Omaha, the Mormon Tabernacle and visitor's center in Salt Lake and now we're on our way to see the place where an angel delivered the Book of Mormon to Joseph Smith on a hillside near Palmyra NY. I'm not Mormon but I enjoy learning about things like this so I asked and my buddy confirmed for me that I'd probably seen more historical Mormon sites than most of the people they know in the church.

Anywho, we rolled up and as expected found the facilities closed for the pandemic but it seemed that most of what there was so see was outside and open. This is the statue of the angel Moroni at the top of the hill - the probable location of where Joe received the gold book:







I'm standing there at the foot of the big statue looking up with the deep blue sky and white wispy clouds moving by and caught an interesting optical illusion that made it look like the statue was moving toward me. I tried to capture it on my phone and it didn't come out quite as obvious as being there:



View from the top of the hill:


Nice place here but closed to visitors until later in the summer:


I'd say if you have Mormon friends, or obviously if you are yourself Mormon, this place is a beautifully done, peaceful and relaxing, and an interesting place to learn a bit more about the faith. That done, time to move on back through Geneva NY and what was a very pleasant ride south along Seneca Lake to Watkins Glen.
 
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Watkins Glen sits in an interesting intersection of the weekend winery tour getaway folks and both amateur and professional motorsports racing. It's a pretty and clean town that obviously derives it's place here from tourists so I imagine was a bit hard hit by the pandemic. All spring events at the race track were canceled and though we didn't stop in to any, I also imagine the walk up winery tasting rooms were hard hit. That didn't stop this place from actually bustling with folks on the street and eating at outdoors tables when we stopped there on Thursday night. There's some obvious upscale hotels right on the lake and marina but we were more interested in a walk about town so we stopped in a public parking lot off Main Street and did some googling. Right next door to us was a place called the Colonial Inn and Creamery - oooo, ice cream. We called them before dropping over and yep, they had a couple of rooms for us and the price was right. We rolled up into a rough looking parking lot next to a building where a guy was scraping all the paint off the side of the place but the initial impression didn't bother us and I'm glad we didn't judge this book by its cover.

As we're checking in the nice young lady tells us that when the owner found out that we were on motorcycles, we got another $10 off our room rate. About that time Paul wandered in and introduced himself as the owner and gave us both the first firm, hardy handshake either one of us had had in, oh, about 3 months. It took me aback for a moment but Paul had such an infectious friendly way about him we laughed and shrugged it off (and a few minutes later were disinfecting our hands). We pulled into the back where our bikes were parked right outside our rooms and not visible from the street and got settled.



Did I mention yet that not only does Paul run a friendly hotel in the middle of Main Street, but he makes all his own ice cream every morning and that it's delicious.

He also has a bunch of bee hives and collects and sells his own brand of honey.



While we're standing there checking out the honey, Paul walks up and asks us if we'd like a wood fired pizza on the house? The next thing we knew we were sitting outside near the street eating delicious pizza with Paul asking us if we'd like some cold beer to go with it. My Mormon buddy declined but I only felt it proper to not refuse his generosity for free beer to go with the free pizza. He sat down with us and we coaxed his life story out of him about how he ended up in Watkins Glen owning a hotel, creamery, wood fired pizza kitchen. I'll skip over that for you to find out if you decide to visit here and just say that I'd happily come back to the Colonial Inn & Creamery on my next visit to Watkins Glen.
 

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After our dinner with Paul, we went walk about town and discovered a local donut & coffee shop that opened early so we headed over there about 6:30a the next morning to kick off the day. There's a lady outside setting up the tables and she tells us to go right in. Here's the markings on the floor for social distancing as you walk in the entrance:











The owner was a plucky 4th generation donut maker and was having none of "Emperor Cuomo's" nonsense about pandemic rules and behaviors. Whether you agree with that or not here was yet another example along our trip of a small business owner making the best of the situation - something to admire.

Donuts, coffee, bathroom visit - check. Onward to the last stop on our way back south - the Flight 93 Memorial near Shanksville PA.
 
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We did ride by the Watkins Glen race track on our way out of town and again got that post apocalyptic vibe - not a soul around anywhere.



If you ever find yourself going north/south through the middle of Pennsylvania, state road 287 is an excellent way to spend a few hours on a motorcycle. It's a flowing road of sweepers along side streams and passing through quaint PA towns with some history.

I take my trials and dual sport bikes up into PA from Maryland several times a year to various places that are great with vast amounts of area and terrain to ride. PA is a very enlightened state like that with lots of opportunities to get off in the woods on your bike with knobbies. I've been near the Flight 93 Memorial a few times on dirt bike trips and never managed to see it so we made a point on this trip to make some time for it. The first thing you see when you pull in is the Tower of Voices:







There are two different areas of the memorial after the tower. The main center was closed for the pandemic but all the outside areas were being visited by a lot of people on the day we were there. This photo shows a walkway that is along the final seconds of the flight path:



As you walk down between the walls you pass by the visitors center and end at an overlook of the impact site and location of the debris field:









Down below the main visitors center and overlook is the Memorial Plaza adjacent to the impact site:







This photo is looking back up at the overlook in the previous photos from down near the impact site:



The memorial wall with the names of all the passengers and crew of the flight:



It's very well and tastefully done as a tribute to the brave passengers that thwarted the attempt to crash it in to the US Capitol Building and had me imagining what it must have been like to be on that plane, getting the news of the other attacks, and seeing your flight being hijacked and knowing that you're likely about to die - but doing something to save others. Every politician running for office in our Country this year should visit this place and let it sink in the enormity of the responsibility they have above the fray of partisan politics. There's so much more at stake, so much more value to what the US represents, to sully all that with the crapola that's going on in Washington these days.

To say that this place moved me would be an understatement.
 

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So after about a week on the road, we grabbed some lunch to reflect on our travels both through the most populated corridor in our country up the east coast, and through the backwoods of New England on the return. Everywhere we stopped we saw evidence of the impact of the pandemic and more impressive was the optimism and spirit of the small business owners we met all along the way. When we started out, we didn't know if we'd get a hotel room or a restaurant sit-down meal anywhere along the way. We were prepared to camp and make our own food if needs be but other than the one night we camped in my friend's backyard, we ended up staying in locally owned motels or cabins every night. And, other than the disgusting meal we had at the Road Hawg restaurant in Gorham NH, we had excellent food along the way with only having to consume it in a parking lot just a couple of times.

We parted ways out in western Maryland, Phil headed back to Georgia and me to Annapolis. Other than a gas stop, I ran straight back home on the expressway and the adventure was over just in time and all too soon. Just in time because after about a week I start feeling homesick for my family; and, all too soon to end what was an excellent time with an old friend and the getaway breakout ride on the cusp of reopening during the pandemic.



Despite the pandemic, we're in the heat of the a highly energized political season here in the United States. So we were naturally tuned in to how this was manifesting during our ride - campaign signs on businesses, in residential lawns, bumper stickers and the like. Coincidentally, in 2016 we did a epic ride from N. Georgia to Cooperstown NY, as much in the dirt BDR style as we possibly could (this was before the MABDR was published). From Georgia, through the Carolinas, Virginia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York we must have seen about a thousand Trump signs and in all that way through rural Appalachia and eastern USA, we saw only one Hillary sign. Just one. We started calling it our unscientific Road Hawg political poll that predicted the outcome of the 2016 election. I'm not trying to make any political statement at all here nor am I voicing my own political leanings. Just stating a fact that the overwhelming amount of visible support seemed one way. So, given that we knew we'd be riding through some blue states, we were kind of curious as to what we'd see this time.

Anyone care to guess before I post the result of our 2020 Road Hawg unscientific political polling?
 
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Awesome Posts Grey Beard, It's great riding all over the North East. My go to for a bike tour... Thanks for sharing your travel stories... Finally something worth reading in the midst of all this Covid Crap!!!!
 

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Excellent post Grey Beard! I'm from Maine and love the many rides to Freeport (L.L. Bean) and up through Bass Harbor, Rockland, ferry over to Swans Island and Vinalhaven Island when I can. Great pics and stories you have expressed here! Thank you for the moto-log!
 

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Nice write up, GreyBeard. Doing a "theme" ride is fun, I agree.
I few years ago I researched and then rode the Jefferson Highway, first N/S cross country national highway, from downtown New Orleans to Winnepeg. It was great.
( Travels with L'il Red: Up the Gut of the USA 2016 )
There are so many named roads, storied roads in this country just waiting for someone to ride them.
Thanks for bringing us along, and thanks for calling out BAD food and sparing us the picture.
 

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Discussion Starter #19
Doc, it was your ride report up the Jefferson Highway that was part of my motivation for doing this ride.

We need more ride reports on here!
 
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