DENIED

Wednesday, July 20th

Bar Harbor to Augusta, Maine is a 102 mile drive.  I drove from Bar Harbor to Augusta, but drove 330 miles.  My intended route home was from Maine to Quebec City, to Ottawa, to Toronto for a reunion with friends from Korea, then Buffalo back to Cleveland.

After I came back from Cadillac mountain, I had a delicious breakfast at a cafe, packed up, and headed for the Canadian border.  From Skowhegan, Maine, the last city in Maine to the border with decent cell phone reception, it's 80 miles up a two lane road called the "Old Canada Road."  The Old Canada Road Scenic Byway is a snapshot in time, this segment of U.S. Rt. 201 winds right alongside the Kennebec River and Wyman Lake.  For generations, it was the preferred thoroughfare for those traveling between Maine and Quebec, looking for a better life and a way to support their growing families.  Thousands of French Canadians journeyed south along the road in the 1880's to work in Maine's woods, mills, and factories.  It's a beautiful drive with very small towns along the way, and logging trucks.  The logging trucks annoyed me because bark frequently falls of the trucks, but I enjoyed the smell of freshly cut trees.

  


I got to the border and pulled up to the Canadian border agent's booth.  She asked me the usual questions.  Where are you going?  How long will you be in Canada?  Do you have any weapons on you? etc.  I answered all the questions, seemingly to her satisfaction.  She then handed back my passport with a yellow sheet of paper and told me to pull over because I would be searched.  I pulled over under the canopy as instructed, and two border agents came out and did a very thorough search of all my belongings.  After they finished, and found nothing illegal, they allowed me to put all my things back and said to follow them into the immigration building.  They told me to sit down.  Shortly after, one of them called me up to a counter.  He asked all the same questions the border agent at the booth had asked.  In addition he asked, "How much money do you have?"
"On me?' I responded.  It's normal for them to ask how much money you have in your possession.  
"No, in total."
"In my bank accounts?"  A bit confused that he wanted to know my net worth.
"Yes.  Do you have thousands of dollars?"
"Uh, yes.  I have thousands of dollars."  Annoyed he wanted to know my net worth.
"Have you ever been arrested?'
"Ever?"
"Yes."
"When I was 24 I got a DUI."
"Did you go to jail or pay a fine."
"I paid a fine."
"And?"
"And that's all."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Sit down."


I sat down and struck up a conversation with an elderly couple from Florida that were going through the same process, and had been one step ahead of me.  They had driven through the border several times, and this was also their first time going through this process.  After about 15 minutes, the elderly couple was called up and given their passports.  They were free to go.


Then I was called up to the counter.  The agent held my passport in his hand as if he were reading a book, and had some papers spread out on the counter.  He looked at me and said, "Sir, you have been denied entry into Canada."  I nervously laughed, a bit in shock at what he had just told me and asked why.  He said that I have a DUI on my record from 2003, and that no one is allowed entry into Canada with a DUI on their record for ten years after the offense.  In the past year, most recently March, I had driven to Toronto, and had no problems getting through the border, and explained this to him.  He said that those two times they did not do a background check, and if they had, I would have been denied entry.  Then he explained that I was not to try to enter Canada through any other border, and that if I tried, I would be detained.  Two of the documents on the counter were identical.  One was for Canada, and one I was to give to U.S. immigration when I drove back through.  A third document was to expedite the process of allowing me entry into Canada.  He explained this process would take about a year.  I signed both documents, picked up the one I needed to get back into the U.S., and he gave me my passport.  Then he tried to hand me the document to expedite the process.  I said, "No thanks.  I don't want that.  I won't ever come back to Canada.  Now how do I get outta here!"  I was not happy.


As I drove back down the "old Canada road", I laughed, then got very upset and was near tears I was banned from a country, then got angry.  I had payed for that crime in the states long ago, and had been to Canada since.  Periodically I raised my left hand high, with my right hand twisting the accelerator as far as it would go, and gave Canada the finger.    


I drove to Augusta to get a room for the night.  I drove 330 miles to stay in Maine.  Dejected, I checked in, then went back outside to get my things and park my bike.  Two guys were hovering around it.  Turns out they were admiring it.  They were from southern Illinois.  One retired.  One enjoying his six week vacation.  They had ridden here on Honda Goldwings.  They told me about their trip, and I told them about mine.  They were in awe, and asked to shake my hand.  We ended up talking for quite a while.  Stories from the road, great routes to take, and future rides we'd like to take.  I'd really like to thank these guys for lifting my spirits out of my "banned from Canada funk."  They helped me realize how amazing my trip has been, and how lucky I am that I got to do it.  After talking to a couple of hard working Americans out enjoying our great nation on two wheels, I wasn't so down about not finishing the trip with my planned Canadian route.  


I called my friends in Canada that night to explain why I wouldn't make the reunion.  Fortunately, four of them could make it down to Buffalo on Saturday night.  So while I won't make the big reunion in Toronto on the 26th, I'll get to see four of my friends in Buffalo!   


P.S.  I did a little research.  Canada's land mass is 7% of the earth.  I am banned from setting foot on 7% of this earth!....until 2013.

The Fourth Corner!

Tuesday, July 19th

It was a sunny day as I left my grandma's house in Hooksett, New Hampshire and headed for the fourth corner.  I started the day on the highway, but because of construction and high winds, I jumped off and took the coastal road.  What a great decision!  It was very Maine.  The drive leads you through some smaller towns with quaint harbors, dotted with sailboats. It made me think of the history that lies in old pubs in these towns.  Stories of lobster fishermen, a family man trying to take his family out for a day of boating and getting caught in a storm, or the tourist that tried his hand at sailing and learned what a boom is the hard way.  Outside of the towns, you see old cemeteries and fields with rock scattered about that reminded me of the rock wall lining a hay field from the movie Shawshank Redemption.

I crossed a bridge, and was on the island where Acadia National Park, my fourth corner, resides.  Once on the island, you could smell the sea with a hint of pine.  A cologne I would wear, but don't know if women would find attractive.  I got to my hotel, rested, then took a walk at sunset through idyllic Bar Harbor, Maine.  Oranges, purples, and pinks blended together for a surreal sunset that I watched from a grass knoll over looking the harbor.  On my way home I grabbed a lobster roll to satisfy my stomach, and was feeling very calm, but looking forward to the next day's ride up Cadillac mountain, the first place the sun's rays touch the U.S. (Part of the year, but not this part.  If I'm honest, the fall and winter.  But still a pretty cool place for the fourth corner!).

                 Bar Harbor (Bah Hahbah)

Despite my best efforts to be up in time for sunrise, I woke up at 8 am, jumped on my bike, and drove up Cadillac mountain, completing my mission of touching the four corners of the lower 48 states!  I took in the spectacular view, and thought about the journey that led me to this point.  It's now July 20th.  I left May 5th, which now seems like at eternity ago.  I could no longer feel the cold wind that had chilled my bones, had completely forgotten what it had felt like being soaked to the bone, my resentment towards the wind that pushed me so hard so often had faded, and I could no longer vividly recall the sting of hail on my face.  It was as if I had nothing but warm sunshine embracing me the entire trip.  It was all worth it.  I didn't have the beaming smile I thought I would, but just felt content.  I didn't feed any starving children.  I didn't save any lives.  I gave my self a fun, exciting challenge, and I'd completed it.  Almost.  I'm not home yet.

Vacation from Vacation from Vacation

Wednesday, July 13th

It was just a short 56 mile sprint up a very bumpy I-93 from Boston to my Aunt Joan's house in Windham, New Hampshire.  I felt a few sprinkles, but fortunately the rain waited until I was safe and sound to really come down.

For those that don't know my family, maybe I should explain.  My mom comes from a family of sixteen.  Eight boys and eight girls.  The four oldest live in the Cleveland area, one lives in Puerto Rico, and two live in Florida.  The rest, nine, by my count, live in the Boston/New Hampshire area, as well as my grandma.  The age range is 59 to 37.  So I'm closer in age to some of my aunts and uncles than I am to some of my cousins.  I saw two of them in Florida, Jack and Colleen.  I'm always pumped when I get to see the New Hampshire crew.  It's rare that I see them, and I love the opportunity to hang out with my aunts and uncles, and get to know the younger cousins, the youngest of which is 3 years old, I think.

I spent Wednesday to Tuesday spending time with the family.  Highlights were boating on Lake Winnipesaukee, riding the Kanc, or Kancamagus highway through the White mountains with my Uncle Dan (he rented a Harley), bbqing, dirt biking with my cousin Davis, and just spending quality time with my grandma and family that I love so much.  I have been blessed with an amazing family.

My cousin Davis getting some good height on this jump!

       A nice ride around the lakes region

From left to right:  My cousin Ally, Aunt Nancy, cousin Steph, Aunt Joan

       My cousins Katie and Jack

      Joan on the rope swing!

     One of two Uncle Dans and my cousin Christian

        My cousin Katie and another cousin Jack.

I do have to say that after this vacation from my vacation, I was exhausted and felt like I needed a vacation from my vacation from my vacation.  But it was worth it.

Choppers

Friday, July 8th

Are you familiar with the show Orange County Choppers?  It's a show on the Discovery channel about a father and son duo that builds custom motorcycles.  A motorcycle trip around the country would not be complete without checking out some custom choppers.  The OCC headquarters is just 70 miles north of NYC in Newburgh, NY.  I decided to stop by on my way to Boston.  After fighting NYC and New Jersey traffic, I arrive at OCC headquarters, which on TV appears to be an impressively large building.  In reality it's much smaller, and I was a little disappointed.  The motorcycles they have built and are on display, however, are much more impressive in person.  You just can't get a true appreciation for the detail, and craftsmanship on these bikes seeing them on television.  Truly impressive pieces of machinery.  I left OCC with awe at the magic of television, and the skill the custom chopper builders have.

I rode on into Connecticut, and quickly was awed again.  This time at how much rain can come down in one day.  The skies opened quickly, and with another scary, blind, soaking drive I made it to an exit on the highway to wait out the weather.  After hours of hoping for the sun to muscle through the clouds, and checking radar and seeing that it wouldn't, I got a hotel.  No Boston today.

The next day I woke up to sunshine, and finished off the 111 miles I had left to my friend Colleen's apartment in Boston.  Well, Cambridge.  I felt wicked smaht as I drove through Harvard Square down Mass Ave. to Cambridge.  Colleen quickly whisked us off to annual pub crawl that happened to be on the Saturday I got there.  Sunday we went to her friend's surprise birthday party, and I relaxed Monday and Tuesday.

It's now Wednesday and I'm departing shortly for a short trip to New Hampshire to see my family!

Country Boy

Tuesday, July 5th

I slept of the 4th celebrations and made my way to New York City with a later-than-usual start.  Unfortunately, for the time being, I think the wide open roads with little traffic are behind me.  High volume traffic and crowded rest areas are what lie ahead.  No more finding an empty picnic table under a a tree at a rest area, and listening to the birds.  Now there are people every where, and a distinct lack of what I was enjoying so much.  Solitude.  I really enjoyed taking a break and sitting under a tree for a while just soaking in the quiet.  Maybe I'm a country boy?  Cities and states flew by on the 239 mile trip.  Maryland, Delaware, and New Jersey were gone in a flash and soon I was crossing the Verrazano-Narrows bridge from Staten Island into Brooklyn, where my friend Rich lives.  The Brooklyn-Queens expressway may have been the scariest piece of driving I've done so far!  I've visited Rich a couple of times before in Brooklyn.   I absolutely love his neighborhood, and am happy to be back.

                                                 Brooklyn Bridge

                                         The Statue of Liberty in the distance.   

Wednesday I took my laundry in to be washed, got a huge turkey sandwich from one of the many delis in the neighborhood, then took a long nap.  I'm tired.  Tired, tired, tired.  That night I met my cousin Beth in Manhattan for dinner.  It's really nice to see family along the way.  Thursday was a bike maintenance day, although I only planned for it to be a bike maintenance morning.  I needed an oil change, and a new set of tires.  I had called the three closest shops to Brooklyn, but they were either booked solid til the next week, or closed.  A shop in Rahwah, New Jersey, 20 miles from Brooklyn,  could get me in for an what needed to be done.  I got there at 8:45 am, like the guy on the phone had told me the day before.  He said I'd be first in and would be out of there in a couple of hours.  But that was not the case.  After more than 4 and a half hours, and the mechanic finding a thing or two wrong I was unaware of, my bike was finally ready.  25,000 mile maintenance, new tires, new horn, new brakes.  The cost of which I do not wish to share, was a lot more expensive than I thought!  I left Rahwah at 2 pm, not happy with the time or money I spent there.  But, knowing my bike was as healthy as an ox, and more than capable of finishing this epic adventure, I guess it had to be done.  My afternoon plan of going to Coney Island and relaxing on the beach was shot, so after fighting traffic and getting back to Rich's at 3:30, I took a nap.  Then met another friend of mine, Mike, who lives in Manhattan, for dinner.  Specifically, the meat packing district, which I recommend checking out.  I thought I'd seen everything I'd wanted to see in NYC on previous trips, but this was pleasantly surprised by the Highline.


The High Line was originally constructed in the 1930s, to lift dangerous freight trains off Manhattan's streets. Section 1 of the High Line is open as a public park, owned by the City of New York and operated under the jurisdiction of the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation. Friends of the High Line is the conservancy charged with raising private funds for the park and overseeing its maintenance and operations, pursuant to an agreement with the Parks Department.
When all sections are complete, the High Line will be a mile-and-a-half-long elevated park, running through the West Side neighborhoods of the Meatpacking District, West Chelsea and Clinton/Hell's Kitchen. It features an integrated landscape, designed by landscape architects James Corner Field Operations, with architects Diller Scofidio + Renfro, combining meandering concrete pathways with naturalistic plantings. Fixed and movable seating, lighting, and special features are also included in the park.

Thanks to Rich, Ivy, Beth, and Mike for another great trip to the best damn city in the world!

Fireworks

Sunday, July 3rd

Although the forecast called for thunderstorms, I was blessed with sunny skies for the short 204 mile journey to DC.  I was not the only one with the bright idea to head to our nation's capital for our nation's birthday.  Despite the heavy traffic, I had a smile on my face as wide as the National Mall when I rode into Washington DC, and past the Washington Monument en route to my friend's apartment.  Crowds of people were walking around the National Mall, and preparations were being made for the next days festivities.  Washington DC for the 4th, as I had planned almost 4 months ago!

Megan and I went to a house party that night that had a bluegrass band playing.  A nice little precursor to the next day's events.  We woke up on the 4th and made a big breakfast to fuel us for the day.  A short bicycle ride later and we were on the National Mall, and accidentally caught a parade!  It was a site to see such a patriotic parade, with the Washington Monument as the backdrop.  Then we went to a raging pool party at the Skyline Hotel, complete with lots of floats, a bouncy slide, burgers and hotdogs, and of course plenty to drink.  Megan is fortunate to have a friend of a friend of a friend who has a houseboat on the Potomac River, which is said to have the best view of the fireworks.  I've never seen the fireworks in DC from anywhere else, but the view was outstanding!  A parade, pool party, burgers, beer, houseboat, and fireworks all in our nation's capital on our nation's birthday!  Thanks Megan!

Trade

Friday, July 1st

It was raining when I left Orlando, but the further north I drove, the clouds parted and the sun smiled upon me.  It's was July 4th weekend, so I traded the rain for traffic.  If it's not one thing, it's another.  Because my butt is getting so sore so quickly into rides, it's becoming more difficult to enjoy, and more of a struggle.  Little things lift my spirits, though.  I talked to a guy at a gas station, and the look on his face when I tell him how far I've ridden so far really put me in a good mood, and reminded me of how incredible this is.  I got to Savannah, Georgia with a renewed energy to find a city that oozes southern charm and character.  The kind of city you could meander through all day, eating an ice cream cone in one of it's many squares, or relaxing by the river.  And it's just ten miles from the beach.  I love it!

The next day I set a goal for a 400 mile day, trying to get as close DC I could, so I would have an easy drive on Sunday.  Savannah is very close to the South Carolina border, and I quickly crossed a spectacular bridge into South Carolina.  The view of Savannah from the bridge is one I wished I could have taken a picture of, but there's no room on the bridge to safely pull over.  The mental picture will have to suffice.  As I crossed the border, and old bi-plane flew over head, welcoming me to the state that was first in flight.  How fitting I thought!  Then I realized that North Carolina was first in flight, not South Carolina.  Oh well.  It was still cool.

It was a beautiful day and a beautiful ride, but of course I struggled with achy bum syndrome, which I will now refer to as ABS.  I really had to push my self to keep riding, and not stop every 20 miles for a break.  There are people starving all over the world, and if they can endure that, I can endure my ABS.  Late in the afternoon I had a quick chat with my friend Megan, who lives in DC and who I'd be staying with.  After discussing plans for the 4th of July, I was pumped to keep riding and get hit my goal for the day of 400 miles, putting me just 204 miles from DC.  After 10 hours, a lot of which was break time and 399 miles, I got a hotel in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina.  It sits just 8 miles from the Virginia border, state #24, on day 60 of my trip!

Flood Gates

Thursday, June 30th

Miami to Orlando.  An easy 258 mile drive.  My step-sister Jenny lives in Orlando and graciously offered her apartment as my resting place for the night.  It was an overcast day, and for most of the day I was lucky with the weather.  With just 50 miles to my destination, dark, evil clouds hurried their way to where I was, and sat teasing for a moment.  Then the flood gates opened.  I stopped and quickly put my rain gear on, with thunder as the soundtrack for this minute long event.  Torrential downpour ensued and my rain gear was no match.  I knew I was five miles from a service plaza, and blindly rode with my hazard lights on hoping not to get pummeled from behind by a big rig.  It rained so hard that I could not see five feet in front of me, and just as I got to the service plaza, it lightened up a bit.  I parked, and took off my rain gear.  I was soaking wet and while disappointed I wasn't able to stay dry, happy I was safe.  After hours of sitting, and watching the lightning, hoping each flash would be the last, the weather finally broke.  I finished the 50 miles, dampened both physically and mentally.  Thanks for the place to (lightning) crash Jenny!

Fun Fact: Miami Would Not Be What It Is Without A Cleveland, OH Native

Tuesday, June 28th

I'm not a history buff, but was curious about the development of Miami, the next city I would visit.  So here's a bit of history for ya:
Miami holds the distinction of being "the only major city in the United States conceived by a woman, Julia Tuttle, who was a local citrus grower and a wealthy Cleveland native. The Miami area was better known as "Biscayne Bay Country" in the early years of its growth. Some published reports described the area as a promising wilderness.  The area was also characterized as "one of the finest building sites in Florida."  The Great Freeze of 1894–95 hastened Miami's growth, as the crops of the Miami area were the only ones in Florida that survived. Julia Tuttle subsequently convinced Henry Flagler, a railroad tycoon, to expand his Florida East Coast Railroad to the region, for which she became known as "the mother of Miami."  Miami was officially incorporated as a city on July 28, 1896 with a population of just over 300.



I woke up to rain, and although it didn't dampen my spirits, it did prevent me from putting my morning plan into action, which was hitting the beach.  When the rain stopped, I rode back up US 1 to Miami.  Despite the ride up, seemingly being faster than the ride down, I took much more notice of all the amazing houses along the way.  Pastel colored homes with the ocean as their back yard.  How nice it would be to have a key to unlock a door to a house in the Keys!

I arrived at my friend Erik's apartment, just as he was getting home from work.  Great timing!  He took me out to Coral Gables for dinner.  I find the architecture and tropical color scheme in Miami quite attractive, almost as attractive as the women, but don't like the overall feeling.  You can almost feel the arrogance in the air.  Beautiful, well-dressed people with noses stuck well up into the air.  "What kind of car do you drive?"  she asked.  "A 1998 Toyat........." he replied as she began to walk away.

Speaking of cars, Erik's car was dead after dinner.  We had to have it towed.  Second tow truck this trip.  Maybe it's me....

The next day I relaxed in the morning, then rode down to South Beach.  Again, dark clouds dimmed the brightness of Miami, but it was cool to see.  I didn't spend much time on the beach because it looked like it would rain soon.  I drove around a bit more and saw Star Island, which I now know is gated.  As I made my way back to Erik's apartment, I got a little wet.  By a little, I mean a lot.

Thoughts at this point:

No photos please: 
I've noticed that I take less and less pictures with the more miles I ride.  Scenery not as picture-worthy?  I'm tired?  More mental pictures?  I don't know.

Get 'er done:
While I am trying to, and still am enjoying the ride, I am so close to my goal.  I wanna get it done!  At the same time, I'm already getting the post-vacation blues at the thought of it being over.

Butt:
It hurts.  My butt really hurts.  I used to be able to ride a 100 mile stretch without stopping.  The further into this journey I am, the sooner into a day's ride my butt hurts.  Make all the suggestions you'd like, but the fact of the matter is, if you sit on your ass this long, for this many days in a row, it's gonna hurt no matter what you're sitting on.  Unless it's a fluffy cloud.

Corner 3

Monday, June 27th

The day started with some cloud cover.  I drove with nothing on my mind but reaching the third corner, the southern most point in the continental U.S., on the island of Key West.  From Clewiston I cut through part of the Everglades, which was a little disappointing.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I saw lots of sawgrass and dead trees that reminded me of skeletons, because they were similar in color.  Skeleton tree scarecrows.  I stopped for lunch in Homestead, the last city before I'd be on US 1 south, driving through the Florida Keys on the overseas highway.  As I excitedly got on US 1 south, I got hit with a small sprinkling of rain, but not enough to make me stop and put my rain gear on.  It's quite a stunning drive, with the clear blue water just feet from you on either side in certain spots.  The drive down can be a bit frustrating, as it is a one lane road for a lot of the drive, and if you get stuck behind a slow driver, well, you drive slow.  As I crossed the Seven Mile Bridge, the scene from True Lies played in my head.  To the right of is the old bridge that was used in the movie, and there are a couple of holes in the old bridge that were blown up.

Fortunately, the weather held out, and I was feeling pure joy ridin' the Keys!  I could picture a map and all the roads I'd driven, and the conditions I'd endured along those roads.  The distance from Seattle to Key West alone would have been a long drive!  I was glad I'd toughed it out through all the rough weather that now felt like an eternity ago.  Everything was worth it in this moment.  I got to my hotel, where my exhaustion got the better of my excitement and took a nap.  Around 7, as the sun was beginning to call it a day, I hopped on my bike and finished off the drive to the southern most point in the continental US.  It's a landmark I'd seen on TV and in pictures, and dreamed of seeing in the "flesh".  I rode here.  On my motorcycle, with mountains, desert, swamp, canyons, valleys, cities, rain, hail, wind, heat, and cold behind me.  The landmark says that it's 150 miles from Miami, and 90 miles from Cuba.  I'd ridden over 10,000 miles to get here.  Three out of four corners complete!  With a beaming smile, I took cruise down Duval Street, and around the island, as the sun set on the day I reached the third corner.  I got back to my room and truly felt a sense of accomplishment.

Thunderstorms Happen

Sunday, June 26th

My plan for the day was simple.  Ride to Miami.  But thunderstorms had a different plan.  Also a simple plan.  Wait.  And wait.  And wait.  It was lightly raining when I left Tampa, which is not a problem.  Eventually the sun came out, and I took my rain gear off, grateful for the sunny ride to Miami I'd imagined it would be.  But a thunderstorm seemed to must have seen the smile on my face, and was disgusted by it.  The thunderstorm quickly dumped buckets of rain and threw lightning bolts that looked like jail cell bars in the distance.  Straight up and down lightning, directly in the path I wanted to travel.  I found a safe place to sit and wait out the storm, and that's what I did for hours.  When I felt it was safe enough to keep going, I did.  I reached the town of Clewiston, about 85 miles from Miami.  It was now eight o'clock in the evening, I had left Tampa 9 hours ago, ridden 205 miles, and in front of me was another wall of thunderstorms.  So I stopped for the night, and decided that the next day I would skip Miami, and head straight for Corner 3, Key West.  Florida in June.  Thunderstorms happen.  Deal with it.