We caught the first Downeaster of the day from Boston to Portland. This is a great train. It consists of newly refurbished Amfleet I cars with a locomotive on one end and a matching "cabbage car" (a de-powered F40 locomotive outfitted with garage doors for cargo) on the other end. The cabbage car contains a self-service bike rack for passengers like us, although we found it more convenient to throw our bikes on the floor of the car after the conductor said he didn't care.

Riding a train on a rainy day couldn't be more relaxing. The New England scenery flashing by the rain-swept windows is incredible to watch -- I spend most of the time staring out the window in a trance-like state. Huge old mill buildings seem to arise from every intersection of rail and water. The Merrimack River is amazing in this regard. Much later, the train passes Old Orchard Beach, the once-luxurious postwar ocean resort that has become a curious time capsule of itself.

Arriving in Portland, we are surprised to find that the platform is too short for the train. The conductor directs us to hand our bikes down and jump 5 feet from the cabbage car to the gravel.

The rain has pretty much tapered off as we begin our ride on the wet roads leading out of Portland. We are following the published bike route, which more or less parallels Route 1. Our first stop is in Yarmouth at the headquarters of DeLorme, home of the world's largest rotating globe. We eat our lunches on the third floor balcony while keeping watch over the northern hemisphere.

Later our ride takes us over the Kennebec River in the city of Bath, which to my surprise is the headquarters of the legendary Bath Iron Works. A monstrous drawbridge is wrapped in tarps (don't tell Christo) for what appears to be lead paint abatement. BIW's cranes are outrageously large. In the picture, it's not obvious that the little gray boat in the background on the left is actually a giant battleship.

We make the first of what will be many stops for Danny's ill-behaved rear derailleur. Fortunately, we are prepared for just about any repair short of welding.

The evening is rapidly approaching as we enter the small town of Damariscotta and we decide to call it a night. Badly in need of dinner and beer, we consult a man in a West Marine jacket. He recommends a little place called King Eider's Pub. I can now enthusiastically agree that it is the sweetest place in Damariscotta. They have a fine selection of beers, delicious entrees, and attentive service. Random people drop by our table to chat about our travels. Our waitress turns out to be a student at Northeastern.

Darkness sets in, of course, before we even begin to find our way to our final destination of the night, Lake Pemaquid campground. It must have been about 10 o'clock by the time we arrived, having biked a scary couple of miles entirely by flashlight. We put up our tents.

Distance biked: about 70 miles

The slight pitter-patter of rain beginning to fall on the tent stirs me in the pre-dawn hours, but I drift back to sleep as it becomes decidedly heavier. Within an hour or two, further sleep becomes impossible when Craig appears outside our tent, dancing around and shouting that it's time to go. Apparently his tent was not waterproof, so he and Matt awoke in "a river of water." We manage to pack up and leave before the campground gatehouse opens, so soggy or not, the night's accomodations were free of charge.

The rain abated during the first part of the morning ride toward Rockland, and the skies began to clear. We make it to Rockland in excellent time and board the state-operated auto ferry (the Governor Curtis) for Vinalhaven island. During the 1 hour and 15 minute ride, I wander the aging ship, admiring the abundant hand-lettered signage and rotting steel structure.

Vinalhaven (pronounced "VINYL-haven") is a sizable island 15 miles off the coast of Maine. It supports a community of about 1200 residents representing just about every economic stratum. There is a gas station, a service station, a library, and a main street, but there is only one hotel and everything (residents, tourists, mail, food, and garbage) comes and goes by boat. It has some history in the fishing and granite quarrying industries, but for most people today, it's probably just a quiet, beautiful place to live.

I grab some lunch at a very nice downtown sandwich shop where everything is homemade and natural (no chain restaurants on this island!) and we cross the island on bikes. We pass a beautiful granite quarry full of water on our way to Seal Cove. The goal is to see some seals, but that doesn't really work out. Craig and Danny manage to swim in the frigid saltwater, just because we're there. But the clock is ticking and we are forced to sprint back to the ferry dock to catch our boat (the Captain Charles Philbrook).

I chat up one of the crew on the ferry:

"So, was this boat also built in 1968?"

"No, this thing was delivered the year I graduated from high school -- in 1969."

"It's pretty amazing how long you can make a steel ship last just by putting fresh coats of paint on it."

"It's pretty amazing how cheap the state of Maine is!"

And so on. Back on land in Rockland, we satisfy my need for Dairy Queen with some ice cream cones (I always get my way when it comes to food cravings) before shoving off to the south. Frequent mechanical breakdowns and steep hills dramatically limit our progress until we acquire a tube of superglue to affect a more permanent repair to Danny's bike.

We call it a day in Wicasset and check in to the low-budget Schooner Inn, conveniently situated behind a Chinese restaurant. (The front desk remains unstaffed until a man comes running out of the restaurant kitchen to help us.) All the other restaurants are closed, including a pizza place which adjoins a convenience store, but the women working there agree to make us some pizzas anyway, so long as we eat them outside.

Distance biked: about 81 miles

Budgeting a huge amount of time to make the last train from Portland to Boston, we leave Wicasset at 6:15 AM. Rather than taking the same meandering bike route, we stick mostly to Route 1. This is fortuitous because it brings in some new scenery. Namely, the entire town of Freeport. It is here that we encounter Freeport's two greatest attractions: the sprawling world headquarters and central retail operations of L.L. Bean, and the incongruous sight of a McDonald's restaurant built into an elegant nineteenth century mansion (complete with wooden signs and chandeliers).

We make it to Portland by 10:30 AM, leaving us with much of the day to play around. We get ready for a swim on the Eastern Promenade beach, only to discover that it is closed due to high bacteria levels. So Matt and I wade in. The beach is paralleled by a bike path and an old curiosity, the still-operational Maine Narrow Gauge Railroad.

We eat a cheap, delicious lunch at Three Dollar Dewey's, which I can also now highly recommend. Then we meander through downtown Portland (which is quite interesting) and drop by the headquarters of the Shipyard Brewing Company. Unfortunately there is no time for a tour, so after a brief argument with the Middletown, Ohio-born cashier about the name of the town in which Young's Jersey Dairy is located (I was right, dammit), we head out to catch an earlier train.

Distance biked: about 50 miles

At the Portland Amtrak station, a guy with a video camera interviews each of us as we board the train with our bikes. He represents some Maine cycling coalition. I've never been very good with the press, so it's not a huge surprise that when the camera is pointed in my face, instead of responding concisely to his question, I mumble something incoherent and completely unmemorable.

The train ride back to Boston is nice and quick. No complaints. No injuries. A great weekend!