Courtesy or Law?

July 16, 2019

Brunswick to Waldoboro

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Jackie’s avg speed: 8.8 mph
Scott’s avg speed: 10.6 mph
Weather: 60-70 degrees, strong sun, refreshing breezes

Without camping gas to prepare breakfast, we got to sample the cooking at Maine diners. Annette’s Diner in Naples was good, but the Brunswick Diner on Highway One was really good. The 06:00 opening hour fit nicely with our schedule - we were in a booth at 06:15. Scott is still on the hunt for a place that can fry eggs hard without breaking the yokes, but at least the eggs and bacon were good and hot. The place was tiny so the waitress could cross from kitchen to customer in six steps. I had the “Billie Holiday” - fried potatoes, onions, bell peppers, and cheese with scrambled eggs, plus two pieces of homemade whole wheat toast. (A splurge, fifty-nine cents extra).

The Brunswick Diner is a throwback to the 60s, with jukeboxes in each booth and good diner fare.

The first four miles of the ride were on a paved bike path along the Androscoggin River. What a beautiful way to start the day. We continued on Old Bath Road through the village of Bath, then mile fourteen brought us to Woolwich and the intersection of State Road 127 and Highway One. As we turned onto 127, we passed a road block on Highway One. All the Monday morning traffic was being pushed onto our route. (Later that evening Scott read in an online paper that a a short stretch of Highway One was closed for several hours that morning because of a serious accident). All those drivers going to work and tourists were crammed onto this narrow, bumpy road that had no shoulder at all. Cyclists had to ride right in the driving lanes.

The Androscoggin River seen from the bike path east of Brunswick, ME.

On this beautiful morning, a group of about 20 high school girls and adult coaches were on the opposite side, red faced, making their way up the steep hills. A couple cars honked at us, and some woman yelled out her window. All I heard was “dead” and “get off the road.” What a terrible initiation for these kids. Maine drivers had consistently gone wide around us anytime we shared a road. At first we thought this was a courtesy, but we had passed a sign earlier that told drivers keeping a distance of three feet from cyclists is the law. In this situation, it was impossible, so drivers were squeezing by and sometimes venting frustration. We kept on spinning, knowing the adverse conditions would eventually change. After about 15 minutes, traffic slowed to a crawl, so I walked my bike in the strip of gravel off the road. Up ahead was a road that connected with Highway One and flag men were directing cars. Scott was there waiting for me. When it was our turn, we continued on 127. The tension eased with each revolution of the wheels and soon faded completely away.

A sign between Brunswick and Bath, the only one we saw on our route. Maybe another should be posted on highways that cross state borders so drivers from out of state are aware.

The route led through picturesque small towns with stately homes, quaint cafes, and gift shops. We stopped for our second breakfast at the ramshackle-chic Treats of Maine café on Highway 1 just before the bridge over the Sheepscot River. Red’s Eats across the street and down a block is supposed to have lobster rolls that people stand in line for. Too bad it would not open until 11:30, we did not want to wait an hour. Since we could not have lobster, we went for strawberry-rhubarb crisp, a blueberry muffin, and turkey sandwich prepared by someone who knows and likes good food.

After crossing the bridge to North Edgecomb, Highway One goes up a long, seven percent grade hill. What a joy it was to be on that slope with a wide shoulder. The route stayed on Highway One until Newcastle, then we were supposed to take Biscay Road a couple miles, and get back on Highway One. That made no sense, so we stayed on One to the outskirts of Waldoboro. The Adventure Cycling route took us on Old Highway One into the middle of Waldoboro, which is built on two ludicrously steep hills. This stretch of lumpy pavement was the worst road we had ridden in Maine. It goes past the Old German Cemetery, an interesting place to stop if someone has time, and the library and post office, if those services are needed. Highway One is more of a business loop that skirts north around the hills and is dotted with gas stations, restaurants, supermarkets, auto repair shops, and the city hall.

We chose to spend the night in Waldoboro, because Scott is a Waldo and a shirttail relation to General Samuel Waldo (August 7, 1696-May 23, 1759) for whom the town is named. The general, who has been described as a merchant, land speculator, soldier, and politician, amassed land holdings in the mid-1700s and traded with the native Americans. He was also apparently a dissembler who promised the original German settlers a prosperous city, but when they came to the New World they “found nothing but wilderness” (inscription on a grave maker in the Old German Cemetery). During King George’s War, 1744-1748, also known as the third of four French and Indian Wars, he fought with the British against the French and led a successful attack on Fort Louisbourg, Cape Breton Island in what is now Nova Scotia. During the American Revolution, some of his descendants fought with the British against the Colonists. When Scott visited the Waldoboro museum, an elderly docent told him the town did not have any particular regard for the General. But he was important enough to have this town and a county named after him.

General Samuel Waldo, for whom the town of Waldoboro is named. Courtesy of Bowdoin College Museum of Art.

Maineanencyclopedia.com has interesting deets about Waldoboro. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, a granite quarry provided the economic base for the town. Now Waldoboro is known for clam harvesting on the Medomac River, the most productive clam flat in the state. The town has more than 5,000 residents, whose property taxes brought in more than $7.4 million. Wow. Besides clamming, locals make their living from agriculture, alpaca farming, and the arts.

Scott paid a visit to the museum to learn a little more about this town his ancestor built.

The museum is located mid-way on the steep hill leading from the post office to Moody’s Motel at the top.

A model of the "Willie Reed," the first five-masted ship, built in Waldoboro in 1879.

A reconstructed impoundment built by early settlers to enclose their cattle.

The Moody family are prominent Waldoboro merchants. They own a motel and cottages, plus the popular diner on Highway One. It's a “must visit” place for any visitor who passes through. We stayed in one of the cottages, which are perched on top of one of those crazy steep hills. Fortunately, the founder Percy Moody cut a road from the motel complex directly down to the diner in 1934 when Highway One was re-routed on flatter ground on the north side of town. Handy! When we cranked to the top of the hill and turned in the driveway to the motel and cottages, a refreshing breeze met us and cooled my annoyance at having to crank hills the last two miles of the ride. The top was calm and serene. The only sound was the rustling of leaves in the trees that surrounded the space.

A marketing expert might call the cottages “vintage,” but to a tired traveler they were well maintained cabins with essentialcreature comforts and no unnecessary frills. A screened-in porch facing the lawn and trees; a ceiling fan to bring in fresh from the windows; clean bathroom and shower; coffee maker; microwave and fridge; and pretty decent WiFi. The TV and AC we didn’t use.

We showered then walked down the hill to the diner to sample the lobster. Scott had the $16.95 lobster roll, I opted for the $25 lobster mac ‘n cheese. Restaurants close to Maine’s coastline all advertise “the best lobster roll in Maine.” Moody’s wasn’t it. The roll was packed with ¼ pound of lobster, but lobster has a subtle flavor that’s overpowered by the wrong condiment, in this case mayonnaise. The mac ‘n cheese was quite satisfying, but the lobster taste was elusive, and the corn came out of a can. For $25, can’t we get fresh corn?! Cameron’s Lobster House in Brunswick sautéed the lobster for their rolls in butter, which enhanced the flavor. So far, Cameron’s is in first place out of two.

Moody’s lobster mac ‘n cheese, lobster roll, and Maine’s Moxie soda pop. The special ingredient in the soda is gentian root, which tastes a little like nutmeg.

After dinner, I oiled my bike ( which I had been doing every 100 miles since Minot, North Dakota). When I texted the photo above to my sons, the younger one asked me to bring back some Moxie and a t-shirt for him and our two grandsons. The one he had as a Bowdoin student in the early aughts had worn out. I walked back to the gift shop for the t-shirts, the soda would wait until we had a car for the drive home to Montana.

We relaxed and read on the screened-in porch until it got dark, then got ready for bed. We were maybe a hundred yards from Highway One, but the tall trees blocked the highway noise. With the windows open and the slow ceiling fan bringing in the night air, it was almost like camping, but without mosquitos. We slept well.

Today's ride: 42 miles (68 km)
Total: 2,923 miles (4,704 km)

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Mike AylingThree feet clearance for cyclists in Maine.
Some AustralIan States have introduced a mandatory 1.5 metre (about 5 feet) rule but in my home state of Victoria it is advisory and not mandatory. Many motorist observe the rule but a few don't.

Mike
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5 years ago

Lori RabyDon't see family resemblance between Scott and Sam. I think you're the lucky one - but your grandsons are fortunate to have t-shirts with their namesake.
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5 years ago