On a delightful November 30th ride to Old Orchard Beach, I forgot all about my ill-advised 120 mile Thanksgiving Day ride, during which only my layers of baby fat kept me from becoming a balding, bearded Popsicle.
Riding a bicycle on the beach may seem silly, but Mainers do silly things on late November days on which they have historically been too cold to venture outdoors unless dressed like a Siberian hunter.
My GTS thermometer read 60 degrees as the bike rider rested on a bench.
Early winter waves pound the pilings of the OOB Pier, which long ago extended nearly a quarter of a mile into the sea.
The Amtrak Downeaster thunders through the deserted town without stopping. During the summer, hundreds of people take advantage of the stop at the Beach, coming down the coast from Boston and up from Portland.
Back on the beach, a couple sits, likely without speaking: those waves drown out any sound softer than a bellow.
During the summer, the screams of kids - and timid adults - can actually top the sound of crashing surf.
A bit nippy for shedding the sweater, but this young lady posed for a photo that I'll bet will be sent to envious friends in a frozen place. One of my uncles who retired in Florida used to send pictures of himself wearing shorts and a T-shirt on a golf course whenever he read of a blizzard or cold snap back in Maine.
This jogger was certainly warm, even with the wind blowing off the ocean.
But I can't believe this surfer - the only person in the water along the length of the beach - was within 100 degrees of toasty. Is it just me, or is this guy nuts?
According to the National Oceanographic Data Center, the water temperature along the southern Maine coast when I took this photo was 48.2 degrees. I rest my case - this guys is dedicated - but nuts!