2010 Vacation Day 12 - Where's the bridge?

The alarm woke us as planned at 5:30. I was however, already awake a bit before that, listening to the pounding rain and gusting wind. The last thing I wanted to hear. It was so bad, that if it continued, we would have delayed leaving. It did let up though, a little before 7:00. We listened to the weather report, and decided to hitch up and move out.
Thankfully it was not raining when we did all our outdoor stuff. Got going in record time, motivated no doubt by the ever present rain clouds. While unconnecting the electrical cord, I discovered an ominous note from Mr. Fox.
 All the wonderful red roads around here, which are so PEI, turn into red mud with even a little rain, and there was lots. The dumping station was an island in a giant red lake. With a little parking creativity, I was able to get onto the edge of the lake, giving us at least a little land to stand on. Red muck everywhere...like glue. Finally got on the way a little after 7:30.

The rain was spotty, as well as the fog. went cross country in the direction of the bridge. In a town called Wheatley River, there was a bakery/cafe open, so Dale loaded us up on coffee and some wonderful, still warm, rhubarb muffins...with cinnamon sugar on top. I know you are drooling. Got to the bridge in about 1 1/2 hours, except, where was the bridge? The fog was pretty thick. I rolled up to the toll booth, and asked the older man inside where the bridge was? Amused, he told me to keep driving straight, and after 5 minutes, make sure I did not make a sharp turn right...Funny PEI humor... The bridge did appear before us, and was actually OK going over. Thankfully, the torrents of rain had long passed, that would have made the 11 minute drive even more exciting.

Our route took us up the T Can a little past Fredricton, then we hung a left and headed for the middle part of Maine, cutting across on Hwy 6. Gassed up just before the Maine border, at a combination Irving station / massive gun shop. Wall to wall guns in there, and ammo, even army ammo boxes full of shells. Crazy. A survivalist's utopia. Dale commented that she felt like a target walking around a store with that many guns in it.
 Crossed the border no prob, after the Alto was checked for illegal aliens that is. Hwy 6 is truly the middle of nowhere Maine. Towns here generally consist of run down mobile homes, yards chock full of 'never to move again' automobiles, and numerous auto parts destined to cave back to the earth. The 4 wheel ATV seems to be the preferred mode of transportation, as they are as plentiful as mosquitos.

The road is like none I've traveled before. The asphalt, a very narrow swath, was for the most part in good shape. The problem with the road is that it constantly undulates. In every direction, and in multiple directions at the same time. Throw in the constant hills and valleys, and you have a road that demands your complete attention. And lets throw a trailer in to the mix why don't we. Eyeballing a stretch ahead, it is crazy how it looks. The ride is simply unnerving, bobbing and weaving and rolling, like a cork on the ocean...for miles and miles and miles. Did I mention the logging trucks? No further explanation needed. Oh well, the price you sometimes pay to get off the freeways. Finally, hopped the 95 for a bit.

Just this side of Bangor, I spot a U.S. Border Patrol van, hidden until you are right on top of it, sitting on a little connecting lane between the divided highway. And sure enough, a very short distance ahead, the traffic is coming to a complete stop. A sign says a checkpoint is ahead. So the crew in the van is to intercept those wishing to avoid the check. As we get closer, there is a big deal going on, lots of uniforms, dogs, vehicles, all set up. The dogs are sniffing everything in sight, the uniforms are talking to everyone. Off to the right, at a weigh station that is now crawling with cops, there are a number of cars and trucks getting a dandy look see. After a couple of questions, some unfortunates do not...but we sail through.

Finally arrived at our campsite, a place called 'Evergreens', in Solon Maine. We chose this spot as it is on the Hwy 201, which will take us directly below where we need to get into Quebec and up to the factory. Family run operation, in a big stand of pines trees, reminiscent of the campground we stayed at in Algonquin.
Left the Alto hitched up, as we are only here one night and want to head out early. Looked around the campground a bit, then had the extra Richard's fish and chips that we ordered to go after last nights dinner.

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