See ya in a month, Canada

Today was a long day. Twelve hours, two buses, two provinces, and one state later, I'm sitting in a hotel room a couple of miles northwest of Bangor, Maine. A few notes from the road:

• 10 minutes after crossing the border into Calais, Maine, and I saw a bald eagle. How freaking predictable is that?
• We passed by a 500m peak called Lead Mountain. I'm from such a boring province that this seemed exciting. You'd think Ontario, in all its enormity, would find a place for a mountain. Instead, hills. Softly rolling hills.
  
• In rural Maine, McCain-Palin signs vastly outnumber Obama-Biden. But in Bangor, the largest town east of Augusta (the state capital, also not very large), Obama signs on private property outnumber McCain's by about 6:1. There are no Obama signs on public property, where the McCain people have staked their territory.
  Rural Maine: leaning red
  Bangor: blue as Paul Bunyan's famous ox

Oh, I should explain that otherwise non-sequiturial reference. I got lost on the way to my hotel (Econolodge by the airport). But while wandering around, I came across Paul Bunyan in statue form. Bangor is one of several American towns to claim themselves as Bunyan's place of birth.

Here he is:


How exactly did I get lost? Behold.


Notice the airport. I can hear planes from my hotel room, which faces the landing strip, and as I walked underneath it along Odlin Road a Navy cargo jet flew over. It was just like Wayne's World. Whoooaaaa!

Man, another one just landed. I think the Navy is having a party tonight. Where's my invite?

The hotel room, just in case you haven't seen enough pictures: