Rose

Yesterday we made a wrong turn. More specifically, we missed the correct turn and continued in a forward manner. Even more specifically, I must note this mistake was corrected and praised within a couple hundred feet. Today was gloomy, and although the day's ride was short, due to camp location and future planning, a day of chilly riding can wear more quickly on the mind and knees. As all of us do once we start feeling worn down, the two of us had no problem discussing the lavish meal we would be devouring in a few hours. Coincidentally, a painted sign on the side of the road read 'Fresh Bread' along with a drawing of a warm loaf. In order to match our thoughts for that moment, the sign may as well have been trailed with exclamation points and shooting a rainbow, which arched over the road we were on, only to land in a pot of gold held up by Frank Sinatra. 

Needless to say, we turned up the driveway. Greeted by a wonderful woman by the name of Rose, I soon realized the glory in which we had just encountered. Rose is an astounding farmer and baker who makes some of the greatest goods I have ever consumed. Furthermore, she provides it all on an honors system in which the goods are placed unattended, in a stand out front. Named La Villa Dolce, it is nothing more than a stand of deliciousness with a payment box in the corner. Fresh loaves and baguettes, squash, blueberry muffins, amazing cannolis, milk, eggs, kale, maple candy, zucchini marmalade and more. Had my pockets been a few inches deeper and my panniers a little more robust, I would have asked for a quote on the whole shabang. We settled for a duo of cannolis, a baguette and loaf of sourdough. While the bread was to be paired with our dinner of minestrone, the cannolis did not make it further than a few steps away from the stand. Absolutely amazing. 

Rose is a middle-aged woman who loves what she does and is clearly always looking forward to progress herself in knowing that. While she spends most of her days on her quaint Maine farm outside of Youngtown, she also spends a few months of the year in Tuscany. Her periods of time there are spent working on organic farms and refining her skills, using their methods. Recently she spent a few months picking olives in that little boot of a country. 

After this experience, I mention the next statement as a rule, but realize we both believe in goals more than rules. ALWAYS stop for fresh bread. The wrong turn lead us in the correct direction today. I'm sure it will be the first of many. 

Now...it just so happens to be my day of birth. We've found ourselves in a coffee shop in Camden in order to escape the torrential downpour ensuing outside. I woke up at 6:30 this morning to a bang of thunder and instant pelting on my rainfly from the clouds above. I passed the time happily with a good book, watching rain fall to the rhythm of Atoms for Peace, and creating ways to capture rain water, even though a stream was a hundred feet away. Nestling in until about 2pm, we realized we needed to move, regardless of the weather. Not for the sake of pushing miles, but simply so we weren't cooped up in our hammocks. Camden is a town taken over by tourism. Sure the whole Maine coast is a bit touristy, but this town is on a whole different level. Game plan...clam chowda, washed down by a birthday IPA and a view overlooking the ocean until the weather lets up. Still no service. Still lovin' it!