So when we spotted this blueberry field about three-quarters into our first day of our East Coast Greenway ride, we did. We focused on harvesting them by the handful. It felt a little like “Blueberries for Sal,” but without the bear.
The actual berries are smaller than the ones at home, and they’re grown on low bushes, not the high bushes at home. Our SAG driver said they serve another purpose — to act as fire breaks.
We saw someone harvesting blueberries as we drove to Calais yesterday. To me, it looked like he was using something similar to a tennis-ball hopper — push down and the balls (or berries) go in from the bottom, pushing up the balls (or berries) already there. Or was it some kind of scooper? He certainly didn’t seem hunched over, doing back-breaking work. Still, if it was hours in a field…
We’re still on the hunt for blueberry pie. Three of our riders have scored some, but it took a bit of sneakiness. The restaurant next to the motel in Machias had closed after lunch by the time they got in (and we can’t have been that far behind at 2:30 p.m.). But they waited outside the door until an employee wanted to head out, then bolted in and successfully pleaded for pie to go. They got the last three pieces of blueberry pie. And they just oozed blueberries. Look at that:
I admit I drooled. Enough, I think, that one of them felt guilt-tripped into offering me a bite. And then I said no. Crazy! Apparently they felt badly enough that they offered a bit to the next person who came by. And Alan our mechanic said yes!
We’ll be at that restaurant for breakfast. Maybe I’ll get lucky? (Because I certainly won’t be eating eggs!)