Day Mountain Carriage Road, Acadia National Park
There's a solid layer of glare and clouds overhead that are making for less than ideal picture lighting. I've been riding for a couple of miles now. The trail that connects the Hulls Cove Visitor Center with the Witch Hole Pond carriage road starts with an 11% uphill grade. It hasn't exactly been flat since then. They're stealth hills, low grades that go on for a while, on finely crushed gravel.
Miss Piggy is handling it well. I've been running 25 mm tires this season, which helps. I've dropped the pressure down to 90 psi. (Cue the Free Wheelers who will tell me that 90 psi is still far too much.)
Despite the bad lighting, I stop for pictures at Witch Hole Pond.
The maintenance of these roads is meticulous. I haven't seen a single pothole.
I turn onto the Eagle Lake carriage road, which will take me due south. My goal is to go south and climb Day Mountain on the other side of the park.
The sky is clearing a little by the time Eagle Lake comes into view.
As the road continues south, Bubble Pond comes into view.
Then I'm in the woods for a while, sometimes climbing, sometimes descending. It's rarely flat. There are a lot of other cyclists out here. I'm the only one on a road bike so I'm blowing past everyone, which is a little unfair.
The Day Mountain road is less worn down. A couple of times my rear wheel skids out a little on the deeper gravel.
The mountain is only 500 feet above sea level. The climb isn't steep. What makes it difficult is the gravel. This is nothing, I remind myself, compared to Cadillac Mountain, where I'll be tomorrow, the only day this week with no wind.
Partway up there's a break in the trees.
What's that road way down there?
Which way am I facing? It's got to be Park Loop Road. (It's not. It's Route 3.)
After a handful of switchbacks, I'm at the top.
For a cloudless forecast, it sure is hazy.
I rest Miss Piggy against a granite block and, walking around a pair of cyclists resting on the little summit, climb the rocks in my cycling shoes.
As I make my way back down to Miss Piggy, one of the cyclists asks, "Do you want a picture of you with your bike?"
"Nope. Thanks. I just take pictures of my bikes."
"He does too," she says, gesturing towards her partner, who grins.
"You have to," I said. "Otherwise they get upset."
"Can I take a picture of your bike?" I ask. It's an e-bike, with the battery streamlined between the top tube and down tube.
I take a couple more pictures as I get ready to leave. Two more cyclists come around the bend.
I stop again somewhere on the descent.
I follow the Day Mountain loop back to where it intersects with the road that will take me to Jordan Pond.
Hey! An actual carriage on the carriage road!
Until now, all I've seen is, well, piles of evidence.
A few minutes later, two more horseback riders appear. I slow down and hesitate before I decide to stop. My left foot is stuck in the pedal. I can't clip out. I fall over, scraping my knee and bruising my dignity. One of the riders asks if I'm all right. I dust myself off and send them on their way, washing my knee with water from my bottle and dabbing it dry with the bandana I always carry. Always carry a bandana. They're great for smudged glasses, scraped knees, and dropped chains.
I trundle along through the woods. Two riders approach. The one in front is looking down at my leg. I look down. Blood is running all the way to my ankle.
I stop to clean it off. It looks worse than it is; I'm barely bleeding. I dab some hand sanitizer on the cut, which seems to stop the bleeding.
Closer to Jordan Pond there's a clearing.
At Jordan Pond I dismount so that I can walk to the edge of the water. When I go to put my cleat covers on I notice that the screw holding the ankle strap on my left shoe has come loose, a casualty of the fall.
Pictures first. Mask on. It's a little crowded here so I'm not going to walk far or stay long.
I always carry a little tool kit, so I try to fix the screw. Stupid idea. It goes flying off the end of the hex wrench and becomes my contribution to the Jordan Pond ecosystem. No problem. I have a spare set of shoes in the car that I can cannibalize. Meanwhile, I pull the toe straps tight.
It's not far now to the Hulls Cove parking lot. I stop only once more to get a picture I wanted to get earlier but didn't because there were people. There's beaver activity in Witch Hole Pond.
The loop was only 22 miles, but somehow I managed to find almost 1400 feet of elevation gain on gravel. I wouldn't call this route difficult, but it was more tiring than it had any reason to be. I'll blame it on the wind.
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