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with U . S . Route 2 flowing lazily alongside the Penobscot River . Timber used to choke this wide river during the great log drives 100 years ago , destroying bridges and docks in the process . I passed through Bangor , hometown of scaremeister author Stephen King . There are even moose warning signs for the six-mile stretch of Interstsate 95 through downtown Bangor , for gosh sakes .
I stumbled across a festival in Bucksport celebrating the grand opening of the Penobscot Narrows Bridge , an impressive cable-stay design supported by two 445- foot obelisk towers . From the picturesque Bucksport waterfront this architectural artwork beautifully framed the 75-year-old suspension bridge it replaces . Being held concurrently at the waterfront was a Bikefest sponsored by the United Bikers of Maine .
I learned one of the bridge towers held an observation deck , the only bridge with an observatory on the American continent ; indeed , only one of three such bridges
Facing : If you ride the four corners of the U . S ., you ’ ll make a stop in Madawaska , Maine . in the entire world . Not one to miss an opportunity , I grabbed the last ticket of the day and headed up the tower . Below the 420-foot level of the obelisk lay a New England sampler of bay waters caressing a charming waterfront town defined by chapel steeples puncturing a wooded countryside , further extending to a mountain backdrop . One plaque said you can see Mount Katahdin 100 miles away on a clear day . I couldn ’ t , but it only reminded me of what else I didn ’ t see .
I saw moose horns ; I saw moose heads ; I saw moose figures and moose ornaments ; I saw moose signs ; I saw Moose River , Moosehead Lake , Moose Lodge , even Moose Crossing ; I also saw a moosehead light switch and a fanciful flying moose . But I saw no moose . An uncanny occurrence made up for it , though .
I squinted out the observatory window , looking into the distance and recalling when I was on the Shin Pond tote road setting up for pictures . Throwing all caution to the wind , I ’ d parked the bike dead center on the road pointing toward me , and set up a tripod roadside with camera attached facing the BMW and that scenic bend in the road . If all worked well I would run to the bike while the timer counted down and get my shot . My senses were alert for any faint tremble , any auditory signal of an approaching growling beast , when I heard something else , a thrashing in the dense woods , then a crashing , followed by a snort ; at least , I think it was a snort .
I may not have seen a moose , but dad-gum-it , no one can tell me I didn ’ t hear a moose !
For a motorcycle guide to Maine , visit ridemaine . net