State 43, March 1, 2020, Detroit, Michigan :The Fight for Air Climb
Ok, so I had planned to go to Michigan in late July and volunteer with the Sierra Club, doing trail maintenance at Isle Royale National Park. For a plethora of reasons, I bailed out in late February.
Most importantly, I was getting queasy about the leadership on the trip. The leader had a health scare, and then seemed slow to respond and unclear on travel details. Nothing was in writing. I don’t want to be in the wilderness with a leader I question.
Oh, and this used to be our house in Maine. Now, it’s just a money pit.
Lastly, I did a day’s trail work with the Raritan Headwaters in New Jersey, and my left foot was screaming at me to stop and reconsider. I can do most anything and not aggravate my Morton’s neuroma, but apparently I can’t stand all day on uneven ground cutting vines and hauling brush. My trusty hiking boots don’t seem to agree with my feet anymore…
I notified the Sierra Club, forfeited my $100 deposit, but saved $800 other dollars on the trip, plus airfare. I will find another way to use my new tent and sleeping bag. I have to listen to my body. I am six years older than I was when I started this quest. Still feel very good, want to keep it that way.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I was antsy about completing the 8 states remaining in my challenge. They are far afield, and I have to keep going. Last year, I only got two states. I Googled Detroit, and saw that it was only 9 hours from New Jersey. That’s doable!
Next, I found an event I was excited about: the American Lung Association was sponsoring a fundraiser to climb the 42- story Ally Building, second tallest in Detroit. I decided to do it in memory of my friend Duncan, who succumbed to pulmonary fibrosis some years ago. It’s a terrible disease, a slow suffocation. At the end, he did’t want to live anymore. And he had been a man of broad smile and booming laugh… I miss him, and think about him every time I bike past his drive.
I found an Air BNB home for the weekend and hopped into the car on a Friday morning. I hadn’t driven route 80 West past the Poconos for many years. The road is only two lanes, but there was no traffic at all, and I was happy to note that an area of Pennsylvania with no billboards and no rest stops and no services at all is now prominently labeled Wilds of Pennsylvania. There is an exit somewhere in the Wilds for a town called Jersey Shore. I’m sure that causes many a double-take and chuckle for drivers.
I love to drive, and it was a perfect day. It was the very last weekend of February, the tail end of Black History Month, and I was heading to Detroit, a city with a large African-American population, to live for a time in a neighborhood just beginning to recover from the 2008 recession and get a sense of the city from that spot.
When I stopped for gas, my rest stop was marked as the location of a stop on the Underground Railroad. I had the feeling that the trip was meant to be. When the stars align like this, I get really excited. The miles flew by, and by mid afternoon, I was pulling up in front of my home for the weekend.
I was greeted by a friendly neighbor and my host, and I could hear the shouts of kids playing basketball at a school across the street. The house was under construction and vintage, with a steep staircase which had a few cracked treads, but I felt safe in the neighborhood and was just a few minutes from Belle Isle Park, designed by Frederick Law Olmstead and the pride of Detroit, akin to Central Park in Manhattan.
It was a chilly day with a biting wind. It’s Detroit in the winter, after all. Snow had drifted back over some streets, and the park was nearly deserted. Some of the buildings need renovation, but the conservatory was open, and warm enough for tropical plants and for me.
I drove a lazy circle round the island and then headed back over the bridge to catch an early dinner at a Moroccan restaurant called Saffron De Twah, which as been named one of the 30 best new eateries in the country. I got the tip from a magazine called Afar. My sister had handed it to me before I set off, and I was using it as the basis for my explorations. That first day, I checked off two items on their list: Belle Isle, and Saffron De Twah. I snuggled into bed with plans to do more on the morrow.
Saturday dawned pretty darned cold with a biting wind. After breakfast, I wandered back down to the water and happened upon a birding group led by the Detroit River Conservancy. I learned that the Detroit River is not a river at all, but a strait: it links Lake St. Clair and Lake Erie. Lake St. Clair looks small on the map, but only because its neighbors are Great Lakes.
It was far too cold for birds, but there is a lovely waterside path linking parks up and down the US side of the strait. Back in the day, the waterfront was lined by huge piles of gravel. These have been supplanted by a multi-use trail, native grasses and shrubs, and a growing network of outdoor spaces.
Brrr. Time to find an indoor pursuit. How about a bookstore: John K. King Used and Rare Books. What an adventure. Floors upon floors, stacks upon stacks, all suffused with the scent of knowledge aging in place.
We interrupt this post to bring you a special message from the Emergency Broadcast System. The Corona virus has exploded in America, and as of yesterday, March 26, our domestic case counts are the highest in the world. New York City is the epicenter of a global health care crisis. Other hot zones are New Orleans, due to Mardi Gras; Chicago, Atlanta and Denver, loci of air travel; and community living spaces, such as nursing homes, prisons, and assisted living facilities. We lack ICU beds and ventilators, and health care personnel are falling ill and DYING. We are largely confined to our homes throughout much of the world. Boris Johnson has the virus. So does Jackson Browne. Sports are cancelled. Schools are closed. The Olympics have been postponed to 2021.
Detroit is an emerging hot spot. All Fight for Air Climbs nationwide are cancelled… Oh, and the stock market cratered to levels of 2016. It has clawed back some, because, well, there will be huge corporate bailouts, tempered by some help to hospitals, small business, and ordinary people. Initial unemployment claims last week were 3.5 million. An ordinary week might see just under 200,000.
Much of the world is largely or entirely confined to their homes. Locally, Starbucks is closed. All non-essential businesses are shuttered. Natirar Park is overrun. Kip and I are staying home, together. We order takeout from Bernardsville restaurants so they don’t go bankrupt. We buy gift certificates to our bookstore and beloved gift shop. Morgan gets his daily car ride and walk. I go out once a day to ride the bike or run. I paint windows and doors to stay busy. We disinfect doorknobs. I have added my name to the list of volunteers to help Bernardsville OEM, though I have no real skills beyond robust (for now…)health.
So just like I bailed on the Sierra Club trip, I am bailing on continuing this detailed blog. Suffice to say, I climbed the 42 story Ally Tower, I ran back down. At the bottom, I felt like I could have done it again.
Good thing I didn’t, though, because after driving home, I spent the next five days barely able to walk. Delayed reaction, with my legs saying, “What the F was that?!?” We had a week of relative calm, the virus stretching and swelling. I was to leave March 12 to visit Laura and Joe in Crested Butte. At 5 am, I had a feeling it wasn’t right. Much like the Sierra Trip. I cancelled my flight. And March 13, the virus leaped up and grabbed us all.
I like to insert maps of the US showing the states I have conquered in 50inthefifties. Today, I wanted to change that to a Corona virus map. But the malware miscreants and the hacking hellions have seized on this pandemic to use Corona maps to spread their own evil viruses. So I leave it to your imagination. Imagine a map of the nation with second and degree burns spread over 90 percent of the land mass. Wait, make that 95%, 96… You get the idea. In lieu of that, here’s my current map:
When I started this blog perhaps two weeks ago, when the world was a different place, I centered it on Black History Month and the sense that I was embarking on a civil rights journey. I’ve done that before- the Living History March from Selma to Montgomery, my trip to Little Rock Central High, even my recent jaunt to Des Moines for the caucuses. Let me circle back. I learned that Detroit was the terminus of many Underground Railroad routes. Canada is just across the strait. Once the Fugitive Slave Act was enacted in 1850, residents of northern states were obligated to return runaway slaves to their masters to be tortured. So Michigan wasn’t safe. One had to cross the water to be free.
Detroit is a beautiful city, rough around the edges, filled with friendly people, a burgeoning arts scene, excellent food at reasonable prices, and the kind of creativity and strength that exemplifies the American spirit. We are going to need to use all of our collective will, empathy, and genius to get us through the Corona virus pandemic. Ironically, the disease is a respiratory one. Patients are fighting for air. Surely some of the $300,000 raised by the Detroit Fight for Air Climb will be used to keep Detroiters alive. Detroiters like Tyree Guyton, the artist responsible for the Heidelberg Project, an outdoor sculpture installation that takes up a few city blocks around his house.
I did some other stuff, saw some other cool sites, but I’ll tell ya later.
Stay home, wash your hands, don’t hoard food and supplies, help the elderly, the alone, the infirm, and listen to the medical professionals. That’s it. Easy. Be a good person.