With a map and a mission: 500 miles, 10 days, 1 bike

Later inland roads were less scenic, and I wished I had risked the highway to see Rockland and Wiscasset. Walking around the pretty harbors of Camden and Rockport and taking in the panoramic view from atop Mount Battie at least gave me a taste of midcoast splendor.

My final night in Freeport I stayed at no charge with Rachel and Pete, total strangers whom I had found through Warmshowers.org, a network for touring cyclists. The family gave me a comfortable bedroom and cooked a steak dinner, and we sat around their table talking easily about Maine and biking. By the blackberry crisp, it felt like we were friends.

It’s hard to imagine such hospitality, but in Maine it felt natural. People struck up conversations everywhere, checking if I was all right traveling alone or if I needed directions. They asked why I had chosen to ride through the state in the first place, and I answered that I wanted wild blueberries and some time by the sea.

But those, I realized, had been road-trip expectations. On my bike, I hadn’t just seen Maine, but absorbed it over every hill and pothole. Sure, every night my legs felt weak and I crashed early. But in the morning I wanted nothing but the road ahead.

Rebecca Dalzell can be reached at becky.dalzell@gmail.com.