Originally Posted October 19, 2004 by Mags
I began to really feel like we made it not when we put the front wheel in the ocean but yesterday morning at Schooner's Head in Acadia just after the sun rose. The sun sent a white, shiny streak across the water so bright that I could only look at it out of the sides of my eyes. The waves sloshed the rock shore, two seagulls searched for crustaceans in the tidepools and the ocean moved against the earth beneath me and I realized that there really was no land to our east, that we really had come as far east as this bike could take us. I'd thought I would feel a sense of accomplishment once we reached the coast but I didn't really feel that. I felt relieved that we made it and grateful for the stretching beauty of the ocean in front of me. The memories of the trip are visions that slide through our minds when we close our eyes. At dusk a curt rancher in eastern Washington lets us pump water from his well to fill our bottles. Burros crowd a red shack in a field in South Dakota. The fields of Montana are colored yellow and rust as the cool evening dries us. The Iowa farmer talks of homemade ice-cream and the antique farm equipment show- "You should really see one of these!" Jeff, with the broken arm near Pittsburgh says, "Man, all the way from Seattle."