Bath   June16

Morning on Sebago Lake

Oh my, it was cold last night in my tent. I put on almost all my clothes and managed to finally get a fairly decent night’s sleep.

After the sun had warmed things up a bit, I stopped to take off my jacket. Across the road, the calls of frogs in a roadside swamp sounded like bass strings being plucked on a poorly-tuned banjo.

I managed to take a wrong turn out of West Pownal and wound up in North Pownal rather than where I was supposed to be in Pownal Center. (Gobs of originality in place names, eh?) While the southern states had their eccentricities, at least they identified all of the roads on which I traveled. Evidently tight-fisted New Englanders see little reason to sign every road in the belief that if you’re on that road you should know its name.  Many a time my map will direct me to “Turn right onto unsigned Whatever Road/Street.” So, it’s a crap shoot and sometimes I lose. Hell, signs cost money.

They also seem to take great pleasure in screwing up everyone’s mind by applying multiple names to the same piece of asphalt that runs from A to B. For this block it could be Maine St. but in the next block it’s Foster St. and even further on it’s Sagamore Road.

The other day I asked a man if I was on Old Ayer Road, as the map directed I should be. “I’ve never heard it called that and I’ve lived here 40 years,” the man said. Sure enough, four miles up the road there was a sign saying this was Old Ayer Road but no such sign existed any closer to the town of Ayer.

So it was no surprise when I got to a country intersection (Again one of those “turn left on unsigned road and then immediately right on…”) that a glorious estate appeared, complete with elegant Georgian buildings, extensive and well manicured lawns, burbling lakes, winding walkways and a beautiful fenced flower and vegetable garden. This was in the middle of nowhere; it just suddenly appeared.

A Pineland oak that was a
spaling when George
Washington was
president. 

A man sitting on a bench in the flower garden said it was Pineland Farms. Their mission is “to provide a productive and educational venue that enriches the community by demonstrating responsible farming techniques, offering educational opportunities and encouraging a healthy lifestyle through recreation.” www.pinelandfarms.org

Pineland Center in New Gloucester (So, that’s where I was.) was established in 1908 to serve as a home for the mentally handicapped of Maine. When it closed in 1996, Pineland consisted of a 28-building campus and 1600-plus acres. A large part of the acreage consisted of farmland which had at one time been cultivated to sustain the needs of the Center's staff and residents.
The Libra Foundation of Portland, Maine purchased the Pineland campus, made extensive renovations, built new buildings and made additional land purchases. The Pineland property now encompasses a 19-building campus and 5,000 acres of farmland.

I finally made it into Freeport, that madhouse of consumerism centered around the LL Bean Company. I had a minor adjustment made to my bike and managed to avoid buying anything in that purchase-frenzied atmosphere except for a tasty lunch at The Corsican, a well rated eatery tucked off the main drag.

A recycle of old bicycle wheel rims and old inner tubes
to hold a mailbox.

To understand why I'm riding and raising money, please go to the first post--April 26.
To make a donation to the ALSA, please go to: http://web.alsa.org/goto/deirdresride