50inthefifties.com

                                         Alton, Illinois to Pere Marquette State Park- and Back

Dateline: Alton, Illinois, September 13, 2014

What a day- get up before the alarm, get breakfast, haul bike downstairs, and the key fob is dead! Not just mostly dead, DEAD. No way to start the car. No key to put in the ignition and go.  No back up system. I yearn for the old days. Now a new activity comes to the fore.

I start calling dealerships and leaving messages. Meanwhile, the hotel manager, Kashif, arrives for his day, and immediately says, “You don’t need a dealer. We will take care of this for you. I need my coffee, but don’t worry, I will fix this.” An engineer by trade, he gets his hotel up and running and then takes my key to Walgreens and buys me a battery, puts it all back together, and in the time it took me to eat breakfast, he has put Illinois back in play for me. Just the first person of many to go out of their way to help me on this special day. I don’t think this happens in NYC.

I decide to go for it, heading for Pere Marquette State Park, Illinois, for a 40 mile out and back ride on the Sam Vadalabene (Ba-da-Bing!) Trail. I cross the Missouri and Mississippi rivers- and find the southern terminus and after the inevitable false starts and difficulty finding the trail (inevitable for me…) I start up in the shade,  only 42 degrees, strong headwind.

 

The trail was muddy in spots and not well maintained in the early going. Slightly uphill, right along the Mississipppi. Limestone bluffs to my right.

Eventually, I made it to a town, seemed too early, and of course there was a sign for Visitors’ Center, supposedly my destination, but it was  just for the town- nothing for the park. All bikes were supposed to stick to the trail. I tried, but was right along the river maybe, couldn’t find it and the water was high.  I returned to the road, losing time, then saw the trail and birds and flooded wetland, and I went right through it and got my feet wet in the bathtub warm Mississippi. Felt like a little kid.

As I approached the park, 17 miles in, I got the first real hill (short, but I felt it), and a few other bikers. Made the park and the Mississippi’s confluence with the Illinois river in 4.5 miles and stopped along the river to talk to some birders, who were on purple martins, and there were egrets as well.

Beautiful cool windy day.   I felt the urge to really push myself as I headed back, riding hard, think I made 20.4 miles in around an hour and a half- saw 4 huge fish jump up right next to me along the 8 mile stretch of shared roadway, and a procession of great blue herons. Got to the Haselton point of This Needs to End- and then it did. Illinois bagged.

I hopped back in the car, tired, happy, drove back to the hotel, gave the car to Dante- washed up, got ready to meet Emily for a late-ish lunch. Dante brought the car up and said, “It feels rough…” And we looked, and the right front tire was completely flat. Flopping.

Immediately Dante said, “I’ll change that,” but he couldn’t get the lug nuts to turn and the jack was dry. I called AAA, and they came in 10 minutes, and I was just thanking my lucky stars I didn’t have a blowout and die. A Missouri family overheard my troubles and gave me the name and phone number of the nearest tire place. Two new tires later, I finally met up with Em- after 4 pm. We shared delicious chinese food at a storefront restaurant and famous Ted Drewes ice cream and spent the rest of our time together shopping for hot sauce and coffee for Kashif to thank him for making the whole day possible. I dropped her off at University City, crawled home, showered, had a glass of wine, 5 cookies for dinner and the day was done. I am the fortunate one.

There are some very nice people in this world. Never forget that.

Dateline: September 12, 2014, St. Louis, Missouri

I dozed until an unheard of 8 am because the room was so dark I couldn’t get a sense of time- decided not to try to ride the bike in Illinois with such a late start-and it is downright chilly- in the 50s with mist and a steady river wind. It’s museum day! But not before I prove just how dark the room is when I turn off the lights to conserve power (coal trains running full here) and trip over the bicycle and nearly break a full length mirror in my handicap accessible room. Almost needed it there!

 

I drove over to Forest Park, the site of the World’s Fair, held in St. Louis in the early 1900s. It is bigger than Central Park, full of museums and zoos that are FREE. I spent 2.5 hrs at the fantastic Missouri History Museum and only saw the half of it.

St. Louis sits at the confluence of the Mississippi and the Missouri (remember the nude statue?) and so it was a huge center of trade in furs, lumber, and, yes, slaves. I’m writing many months after being at the museum, and I have forgotten way more than I remember, but it was fascinating. I had just finished reading Mrs. Lincoln’s Dressmaker, so the fact that they had an audio of Elizabeth Keckley’s voice was stunning to me.

So hungry I could learn no more, I texted Emily, who was psyched to go for lunch. We headed to the Loop, a wonderful, walkable, eclectic neighborhood with every cuisine you could covet, and I succumbed to the regional pressure and dived into succulent ribs with a popover and 2 salads and ate every bite.

We walked back to Em’s apartment in University Heights and I met all her closest buddies and we had a nice chat. Em had work to do and has her own life to lead so I let her off the hook and went to the Art Museum and did a solid hour of European painting until I couldn’t appreciate another brushstroke.

I don’t want to bore you with paintings but suffice to say, it was very hard to choose only a few. I finished my Forest Park day at 5 pm at the JFK Memorial Forest, with a short walk in the last remaining forest in the park. Home to my room in Clayton, emails from referees for my women’s soccer team, talk with Kip, problems with taxes, life intruding on this solo time. It’s almost time to go home. Hoping for Illinois tomorrow- I don’t want to overstay my welcome with Emily though I love this hotel and I could get used to living in this wonderful city.

 

Dateline: St. Louis, Missouri, September 11, 2014

9/10 Woke to threat of rain. Decided to head for St Louis 100 miles distant so got extra night in Clayton. Rain came, plenty of rain, so I left the interstate and drove highway 40 as much as possible, stopped on a section of National Road and at a deserted gas station

arriving for an early check in at the fabulous Hampton Inn Clayton- St. Louis -Galleria area. This hotel is brand new and the people are soo nice. Anyway hope to see my youngest daughter, Emily, tonight. She went back to school in July to take a couple of summer courses and so I haven’t seen her for 2 months already. She tends to be a woman of few words so it’s hard to tell from this text how excited she is to learn I’m in St. Louis a day early: “Okay well I have class until 2:30 and I have to take a quiz at 6:30.” But she’s excited I’m sure.

I did get to see her I just came over and visited and gave her the treats I had brought, told her my tales of the road.  I’m not sure what I’ll do for my Missouri challenge but I’m hoping she’ll join me.

September 11- Up early and watching tv, I learned of a 21 mile March to the Arch starting at 9:11 am. I knew I had found my challenge, but I couldn’t think how I would get to the start and back- didn’t know there were shuttles and didn’t want to miss a whole day with Em- so I did what all moms do when they visit their kids at college- I went for groceries. I got all the staples and even some pots, and I kept it all in the car and returned to the hotel, still yearning to March to the Arch. Here is a description of how the March got started, from the website of St. Louis Public Radio:

“The annual Sept. 11 March to the Arch started in 2002 when Bo Drochelman took the American flag from the front porch of his Kirkwood home and walked to the Gateway Arch.

“It wasn’t well planned, I can tell you that,” Drochelman said. He wanted to do something that would honor those who died on Sept. 11, 2001, and was a personal sacrifice. So he left a note for his wife, and started walking.

Perfect- I didn’t have a plan either, but here I was, in St. Louis, on September 11, and that became my plan. I consulted with basically the entire hotel staff and called Bo Drochelman on his cell phone. He said, “Yup, we are marching,” and gave me an approximate time to catch up with them near my hotel. I grabbed my little American flag out of the back seat of my car and took the hotel shuttle to the 10 mile point and  met up with the group, led by this ebullient and incredibly fit retired Marine. It was just about noon. I called my daughter, who said she would try to meet us when she got out of class.

I met a lot of fellow marchers: Maria, a woman about my age, grown kids, on her second March to the Arch, and she told me she is in the same place in her life, wanting to achieve something for herself, now that her 5 kids (5!) don’t need her in the same way. This quest strikes a chord in everyone I speak to.  I think I may be onto something. Peter, who carried my blue shirt and Em’s t shirt the whole way. Kevin from Kearny, NJ.  Chris, a first time marathoner, young father. Dana and Arlene, both significantly overweight, both doing the full 21 mile distance, who together have lost 80 lbs. since January- one of them a retired marine. They were hurting, but such an inspiration.

Met up with Em, who had to hustle and there was understandable confusion about the meeting place for two moving targets. I had to wait for her, then we both had to hustle, catching up with the others at the Missouri History Museum rest stop. Em hadn’t eaten anything all day, but a fellow marcher kindly gave her a banana and a power bar. She did 7 miles plus the long walk to meet up with us.

We met Sarah, a physician’s assistant who has worked with homeless girls. Shared much of the walk with her. She was herself a Washington University grad and a lifelong St. Louisan so she added much to our understanding of the buildings we were seeing.

Many drivers honked and waved, people on the street were cheering for us, and our group of about 200 marchers steadily advanced to the Arch, despite the pain in our arches.

At some point in every “dreadful hike,” there comes the point when it is just time for it to be over, and when Emily hit her stride and started passing everyone, I knew what she was thinking. Sarah caught up with us with difficulty and told us about some historic sights, including a nude fountain, the two major figures representing the Mississippi and the Missouri, the great confluence that is St. Louis.  I said, “Which is the man and which the woman?” Sarah said “Well you can got over closer and check if you need to.”  I said, “No that isn’t what I mean- which river is male, which female?” And when that is incredibly funny, you know you are incredibly punchy.

The Arch became more and more impressive as we approached:

It’s taller than the Empire State Building and truly stupendous. Upon arrival, we all touched the Arch, and a singer who sings the National Anthem for the St Louis Blues sang it for us.  Next, we all sang God Bless America and  shared a moment of pride in our accomplishment and our unity.

Exhausted, Emily and I took the subway back to my hotel, unloaded the groceries at her apartment, and tried to eat dinner at Barcelona, but Emily was holding up the wall of the restaurant with her head and I was falling asleep in the chair. A fitting tribute to our 9/11 heroes, a solid challenge met, another state in the bag, and something I hope to share with my daughter again in 2015.

Dateline: Martinsville, Indiana, September 9, 2014

Ok so,

We got up at 6 and loaded the car and I headed off to Morgan-Monroe State Forest south of Martinsville, IN. Target- the 3 Lakes Trail. There are now only 2 lakes because the dam broke on one- but I was not to be denied as you will soon see. I signed the log and started out, counterclockwise, and paused at times to look for birds. Before starting I had some kind of flycatcher and I got a good bird early- white eye ring dark eye secretive perhaps an ovenbird or a hermit or wood thrush. Trail easy, slate, dry stream beds, everything fine and I reached the second and last lake figured I was halfway ish.

Second half harder with ups and downs. At some point I stopped- tiny thorn in left shoe a la the classic children’s story, Andy and the Lion. I could feel it downhill so I stopped and pulled it out, didn’t really find a place to sit, turned to try leaning against 2 posts, looked at a low log…. Traveling on, soon I saw something I swore I’d seen before- a log cut out to make a step, a pile of wood chunks to one side- had been the left, was now the right. I actually stopped to look at it to see if the chips were the same, they kind of looked it because I had been thinking of taking one as a souvenir. Nah I thought…

And I went into another section of ups and downs- saw 2 women with loose dogs, one startled me, I startled him, and he was hackling. I almost asked them how far from the start they were, but didn’t. Then I hit a flat spot, had the distinct 10 mile feeling I was coming to the end, saw a road, crossed it… And then saw a third lake, looked a lot like the second lake, only I was approaching it from the opposite side… The trail does not parallel itself anywhere- I saw the same guy fishing the same spit on the dam, and then, I saw the arched branch in the water- Yogi Berra and Chevy Chase, deja vu and lampoon, I had blown it.

And to think I spent much of my solitude remarking (to myself, of course) that the trail was SO much better marked than Jockey Hollow… I decided to continue with the double back because it was the easier side and I knew what I faced (though I knew a hell of a lot about the other side too 🙂 and I was happy I had brought 2 waters. I forgot the food, but I don’t need food, I ate 6 donuts not too long ago. I was mad at myself briefly but I’m fit and no harm and it is soooo typical. It’s better to laugh at yourself than beat yourself up, right? Right.

I was out for over 5 hrs. I did experience much of that area of Indiana- twice. stopped on route 40 for dinner at the Cornerstone Inn for fish and chips and a heinekin- very good.

 

 

 

 

9/7/2014 I spent a couple of days in Ohio with Jen and had the opportunity to enrich my life and others’ lives just by slowing down, taking the time to show interest, get involved.  I call these sorts of days Red Letter Days. In recounting them here, I also get a chance to suggest some places you might want to explore if you find yourself ’round these parts.

We took a trip up to Yellow Springs- a really cute college town, home of Antioch University.  We hiked at John Bryan State Park and in the Clifton Gorge area for 4 leisurely hours. Cliffs and huge boulders, caves, cool and shady and uncrowded.  We saw a red bellied woodpecker trying multiple times to stash a large acorn in several different holes in a large tree branch.

We also stopped off at a little nature center on site and we absolutely made the day of the 80 year old naturalist who was there. I recognized a microscopic animal called a copepod from the old board game I used to play (it’s called Dirty Water, and, unfortunately, it’s not available…) and he ’bout fell off his chair. He showed us his beautiful micro photos of algae and critters.

He also judges Quarter Horses so we had that to chat on too. Gave him like 15 minutes and brightened his life and our own. Later down in the quirky college town of Yellow Springs we got homemade vegan Indian food off a truck, ice cream, and I got a shirt for Kip and ordered one for Laura from an older hippie grad of Antioch who writes very clever puns like “Philosoraptor”  and “Tea Shirt” and illustrates his sayings. He gave us 4 pages of poem titles, all of which he wrote, let us choose – and recited us 3 or 4 flawlessly, from memory. I tried to recite my Goldfinch poem but I couldn’t. No matter. I asked who has favorite poets were and he said Coleridge and I wasn’t at all surprised.  I love the Romantic poets and could have happily spent a day talking of Wordsworth and Coleridge and Byron. Another memorable encounter, another chance to connect, and I bet if you head for Yellow Springs you will find the poet on the corner with his tee shirts and his stories.

9/8- Two girls, a guy, and a dog

Jen’s working, I’m in charge of the dogs, who are being good, which is fortunate, because after a bad night’s sleep and a bit of sprint work today, my back is very tight. Better now,  4 pm 3 advil finally working. Don’t feel super today though and tomorrow is supposed to be a sunny day. I should leave early and go to Indiana and bag it. So I’m thinking, I know I need to move on soon. But when things get exciting in my journal, I use my signature segueway…

Ok so…

Jen came back from work and I told her I had just walked the dogs so we headed over to the Huffman Prairie, where the Wright Brothers spent 1904-5 perfecting their flying technique and running a flight school. The land is preserved and we spent an hour or so on a gorgeous night looking at the exhibits and walking through the adjacent tall grass prairie preserve, managed by the Nature Conservancy and reputed to be the largest stand of prairie in the state.

We decided to jog, since Jen has fitness testing next week. We ran the field loop and got back to the car. Lacking tech devices for running, we needed to clock the loop with the car, and while doing so we stopped to take pics of the marvelous sunset.

I glanced right and said- Oh look at that!

A dog!  Lying in cool long lawn grass by a swale about 20 yards off the rd. Cute dog, but when we tried talking to it and approaching it growled and began to bark, but didn’t move away… Very puzzling behavior. We decided to finish clocking the run and to stop if the dog was still there upon our return. Meanwhile, a young man arrived with a pick up truck. We thought he might be a hunter…

On the other side of the cow pasture that witnessed history we saw and photographed the full moon rising over the grassland, then headed back toward the exit. The young guy still there- we asked him if it was his dog- he said no- he was going to ask us the same thing. He was working a dog and the stray had moved away some, but not far, when he got his dog out. We all knew that it was dangerous to leave a dog acting peculiar free and alone overnight. We thought he could be rabid or a kennel dog unaccustomed to people. Eventually she came close enough that we at least had a sex…female.

The three of us worked together for a bit with the dog, who didn’t want to be surrounded but who was interested in the car but wary. Our guy friend was smart, checked craigslist and found someone was missing a dog 2 days. He called. They wanted a photo- we wanted a name… Sadie! As soon as Jen said it she perked her ears.

It was getting very dark. A white mist lay low, 2 feet deep over the pasture- the guy went to meet the owners and Jen and I were entrusted with the dog. It was touch and go as I moved the car to provide headlights but Sadie feigned forward and slunk back. If we lost her in the fog it was going to be over for her. At one point, I moved the car, looked up, and Jen was 2 feet away from her. I held my breath and stood stock still. Understanding passed between Sadie and Jen- it was visible, and Jen knew what to do. “Do you want to give me your paw?” And miraculously, Sadie shook hands with Jen! I cannot explain how impossible that had seemed 20 minutes earlier as she snarled.

I brought the leash toward Jen and left it on the ground 10 feet back then retreated. Jen was patting the Sadie but afraid if she reached for the collar she might get bit. She waited for a tail wag then got the leash and put it on and we both got to shake hands and get full on kisses from the wiggly, handsome, ecstatic little dog. I said, “Would you like to sit in the car?” And she walked right over, though her paws were very sore on the gravel drive, and she hopped in and started looking for crumbs all over the car.

We got her water at a shed by the firing range and drove her to her people- Sadie in the front seat. Jen wrote the owners cell # on the collar- Sadie had no tags, had never been outside… The expression on Sadie’s face when she saw her mom was pure love.

Later we got this text…

“Thank you both so much! I cant tell you how worried we both was, we don’t have children so she is MY baby I was sick without her. Thank you both and god bless you for being so kind and gentle to Sadie girl.  She is happy to be back home and sleeping in a comfy bed with her little brother who also missed her very much.”

Jen and I had a quiet dinner in and the next morning I did make that start to Indiana- but Ohio was so special because through just being nice and taking some extra time we were able to enrich the lives of 3 people (and a dog). There is no better use of time.

 

Dateline: September 6, 2014, Greenville, Ohio

The Tour De
Donut

My journey to Ohio and beyond was timed to take advantage of a truly unique opportunity to bag Ohio- a bike race and competitive eating duathlon called the Tour De Donut. I found it online searching for 50 in the Fifties events, and it had my name written all over it in powdered sugar. How could I resist?

September 5, I took care of the dogs while Jen did her flight surgery gig at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.

After work, we drove up to early check in after checking the bikes- my front tire flat again… Disaster looming. We got lost on the way through flat farm country to a lame check in which left us thinking things were going to be chaotic. No shirts, no maps, no service.

Back in Beavercreek, where we were carbo loading for the race, Jen said, “Gee, I wonder if we should find a bike shop and see about that tire.” As luck would have it, there was a shop right across the street, so  I drove the tire over there and explained how it was flat- The bike mechanic said it looked ok… Nearly new, in fact.  But I bought a tube anyway (the best decision I ever made!) and went back to dinner. We had black bean burgers and turned in early- 6 am alarm.

Race day! Ok, so we took care of the dogs and hit the rd- I had my car behind Jen’s- I almost asked her to check my tire- but I didn’t. We get there 8 am- 30 minutes to spare and I get the bike out and then go for the tire and… “It’s flat. ” Thought it was all over right there- but I had the new tube and went to look for help- found none while Jen grabbed a tire wrench and got started. How a perfectly good tire can go flat 3 times in 2 days after 2 trips to 2 bike shops is unfathomable. Miraculously, as the raindrops started then stopped, Jen changed that tire.

We thought we would ride 2 miles, the tire would go flat, and we’d be done, but we rode the 32. A little ways in, a man held his hand up to signal a large group and in a split second flipped over his handlebars. Jen and I stopped. She’s a doctor, after all. Such a big guy, but he fell well and was at least oriented enough to check his watch for the date.

Due to the flat tire and the bike accident, we ended up missing the tight cut off for the 64 which I will not let happen again. I’m no doctor, and I’m going to plow through the wreckage and make short work of the rest stops waiting only long enough to eat half dozen donuts each time. Donut count for the 2 of us- 7. Donut count for me- 6. Hills encountered- 2. One was down into the rest stop, then up out of it. My brakes were squeaky on the way down and the guy in front of me seemed to think I was going to lose control of the bike, as he nervously murmured- “steep hill…” I reassured him that I had control of the hurtling descent… People here don’t know from hills. It’s pancake flat, corn and soybeans both sides all the way to the horizon.

I pulled over just after the first rest stop and picked a soybean for us to share. No sun, cool, lovely, no traffic, roads all closed. There were people in Viking costumes who had speakers to play their iphones and as the rain started, then stopped, a song came on that referenced rain, and I wondered if his phone selected the song for that. I think the tech is there for it. Later heard Addicted to Love, and I tried to stay with those riders but Jen wears that Air Force top and everyone wants to chat her up and we lose precious minutes.

This is probably the only competitive eating-biking biathlon in the country (though there are other venues) and I think I may have found my niche. I could easily have eaten a dozen doughnuts over 2 rest stops if I hadn’t been afraid to give it my all.  Honestly I didn’t want my name all over the internet as the Donut section winner of the Ohio Tour de Donut. This could be an annual ride with Jen stationed here and next year I’m eating to win- oh, and riding some, too.

Despite the problems we faced today, we did get to ride, we did conquer Ohio, and it didn’t really rain. Our luck held after all. I am forever grateful to Jen for suggesting a bike shop check, and that new tube- it’s still holding air 4 months later.

Dateline: Shankesville, PA, September 4, 2014

Started the day with the flight 93 memorial. On the way there I was blinded by the glare of thousands of car windshields, which in NJ would be a dealership but in this part of PA is an auto graveyard. I wondered if there were 3000 cars in there- to match the number of 9/11 fatalities, and I was already teary. It was another cloudless, perfect day near Shanksville, PA The Memorial is still under construction, but they plan a visitors center which is broken in 2 by the flight path. There is a memorial wall with the 40 names, among them Todd Beamer and Mark Bingham , and Honor Elizabeth Wainio.  Honor…

 

The land is a reclaimed strip mine field from the 90s, now a varied grassland filled with birdsong, butterflies, damsel and dragonflies. As time passed and I read the placards explaining how 40 people took a vote and decided to try to retake control of the plane, the minutes passed and I found myself at the scene on a September day at the exact time that the passengers acted. It was humbling and sad and triumphant all at once.

I took pictures of sunflowers at a state game land right nearby and I thought what it meant to save that Capitol building and wondered again if I would have been brave if it were me.

Continuing on the road, I followed 76 into Ohio and then set off in search of the National Rd, route 40. Easy enough to find snippets of it, hard to stay on it. But I was thrilled to find 3 S bridges and after a fashion figured out how to find the road.

I found a place where it was possible to view all the routes into Ohio from one spot- Zane’s Trace, Route 70, the railroad, route 40, and the National Road. I made one obscure right turn and I found a piece of bricked National Road. There was a highway worker there and I pulled up behind him and started taking pictures- he asked if he was in my way and I said no- I asked if people drove on the road- he said yes, and I asked if I could. Up I went, me and 1828, paved with bricks 1918, and perfectly kept homes on a ridge, older couples out mowing their grass, living on this marvelous piece of the past.  If you are driving west from NJ to Ohio and beyond, check out the National Road- you will not be disappointed.

I didn’t leave the National Rd until Zanesville, and I looked wistfully at pieces of it from highway 70 at 70 mph.  Made Beavercreek, Ohio at 4:30 and met up with my best friend, Jen, who is a flight surgeon in the US Air Force and an all around athletics nut like me. By 6:30 we were at a dinner with Chuck Berry, and Mike Berry, both air force aerospace guys. Chuck Berry was the NASA flight surgeon for all the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo Flights. Michael Barratt was a featured speaker- an astronaut and doctor. A real live rocket scientist- 281 days in space, 2 spacewalks. And a nice guy. There was another guy there, a flyboy, he looked like a politician and lit up the room, like Howard Dean but without the wacky gleam in his eyes.  He will get elected to something.  Jen hangs out with some smart, brave people, and she fits right in. Let’s see, though, if she’s ready to bag Ohio with me.

Dateline: Bernardsville, NJ, September 3, 2014

I’m taking a solo vacation. No husband, no kids (well, one I’m going to visit along the way), no dog, no particular schedule. I’m very excited at the prospect of being responsible only for myself and to myself for the first time in 28 years. Last time I was responsible only for myself I had shackled myself to people and places I never thought to break free of- not the case now.

Of course, getting ready to be free requires a lot of planning and preparation. I feel like I am about to set off under cover of darkness to begin a journey on the Underground Railroad. I feel I have to set everything up so that my absence won’t be fatal to the husband, dog, house, and grown children. Absitively for sure when my husband and girls hit the road, they don’t give a millisecond’s thought to what they need to do to make my life sustainable in their absence.  I do. I’m a mom. People are afraid they will miss us or need us if we leave. Funny story- My sister -in-law, Carol, told me that one day when her three kids were 6,5, and 3, she tried to duck out to the barn to feed the horses. The oldest stood forlornly in his socks and plaintively whined, “You can’t just LEAVE us…” But, there comes a time when we can, we should, we must.

I did all my chores and said goodbye to the dog, and decided to go a half day early and break up the trip. First destination-Dayton, Ohio. Doesn’t everybody dream of Dayton? My husband has already asked me twice when I’ll be back.  But this is a major trip for 50 in the Fifties- I’m hoping to conquer Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri.

I was gifted a lovely sunny day and the drive was wonderful, miles sliding away into PA, The Alleghenies to the north in that memorable flat ridge, sometimes to the south too. I had the feeling my little dog, Morgan, was with me but then I remembered. He was disappearing into the couch with depression, wanted nothing to do with me as he saw me throw the bag in and he just knew I was leaving him. He’ll have to suck it up. This trip is for me and Em and Jen. Mostly me.

The rest stops were deserted, immaculate. I decided to go to a state park called Blue Knob, stretch my legs. Drove like 15 miles out of the way to get there and it too was deserted. It was the kind of place I could hear Phil saying- don’t hike alone here. I did it anyway for 30 min or so on a switchback trail. I was nervous about leaving the car. I made plans for how to keep the key if someone took my fanny pack. Then after the walk I remembered that Laura hiked all over New Zealand and South America, sometimes alone. Saw a couple of really beautiful barns and the clouds were huge and the lighting dramatic over them and the ridges and the corn were illuminated and the soybeans darkest of green. Got back on the highway- sun was in my eyes after a fashion and I stopped in Somerset, PA -which seemed fitting since that’s where I started- Somerset County, NJ. Found a Hampton Inn (my favorite) and it is hard by the Flight 93 memorial so I will see that at 9 tomorrow then head on. I think I have about 250 miles to go. Jen won’t be home till 4:30 so I should have time even with the late start. Can’t wait to see the National Road!

Dateline: August 20, 2014- near North Conway New Hampshire, White Mountain National Forest

Big family join-up at my mom’s house in Maine on August 19 set us up for a dawn assault on the Mount Washington summit today. My hiking companions were my husband, Phil, and my eldest daughter, Laura. Arrival at the trailhead for the Tuckerman’s Ravine Trail was closer to 11 am than dawn, however, especially since Laura ran into a couple of close college chums who were working the summer as guides for the Appalachian Mountain Club and they got chatting. Weather, perfect, sunny, warm, no wind.  The worst weather in the world and the highest recorded wind speeds (231 mph) occur on Mt. Washington, so don’t try this unless things look good at the base of the mountain- no telling what you’ll find at the summit, 6,288 feet up. The highest peak east of the Mississippi.

We wended our way without any problems, admiring the views and taking some pictures

UNTIL we hit a snag. Phil, who hikes annually in the Adirondacks with 20 something year old men was slowing up, feeling dizzy, stopping frequently, and gasping for breath. We were a couple hours in and working pretty hard when it hit. He didn’t want to stop and we were above tree line, climbing over large boulders in a scree field.

We thought about turning back but we could see the summit and the hike down was going to be daunting in that condition, so we continued, slowly, to climb.  We found him a bench, sat him down at the summit- which was crawling with people who had driven up or taken the train. Laura stayed with him while I searched for a shuttle down- and although I would have thought there would be frequent shuttles, I would have thought wrong. We waited perhaps an hour for the last shuttle of the day to go. There also was no medical care to be had at the summit- it’s so easy to drive up, and so many people do it, I would have thought…

We descended via shuttle, Phil was doing fine- seemed to be blitzed by the experience but recovered quickly and we were absolutely famished from the climb.  We found a terrific sandwich shop and ate Cuban sandwiches, then drove back to Maine, and counted our blessings.  No wind, no weather, even at the summit. So lucky.  Besides the health scare, we had a wonderful time. Another successful “dreadful hike,” a family saying coined by Laura when she was 3 1/2 years old.

 

Dateline August 6, 2014: Southport Island, Maine

What better place to bag my first state- the state where I have vacationed since birth. The state where my mom lives (Raymond, on the shores of Sebago Lake, second largest in Maine), the state where my husband vacationed, where his parents summered, where they passed away.

For years, we have been tempted to try the Southport Rowgatta, an annual 12 mile self- propelled circumnavigation of Southport Island, which is right next to Boothbay Harbor. For years, one thing or another got in the way- high school sports, family weddings, weather- but mostly, inertia. How could we ever hope to paddle so far? Lacking a truck, how would we get our double kayak to the start line? How could we arrange to be in Maine on the second Saturday in August?

This year, having just committed my father in law’s ashes to the sea off Spectacle Island, having lost my uncle in February, having set the bar high for 50 in the Fifties, I wasn’t going to let any of these issues stop us. Live every day. Forget about the start line- let’s drag our kayak to our own dock. Let’s pick our own day. Never mind the weather- we got this.

The weather- it was our third paddler. Never have I seen the waters around Southport so calm, no breeze at all, no sun, tide slack. Here’s the proof- Hendrick’s Head Lighthouse from the boat, well before our halfway point:

The nautical miles slid by with the ease of the harbor seals who kept us company.  We didn’t work up a sweat because it was a cool and peaceful day. The silence enveloped us, broken only by the foghorn and the light chatter of purple sandpipers. Two other kayakers were out, heading in the opposite direction, but otherwise, we had the Sheepscot River to ourselves. Some back pain taught us that seat cushions would be a good idea on our next epic paddle, but we surprised ourselves with our strength and endurance. It’s nice when that happens!

The second major lighthouse on this paddle is the Cuckholds Light, recently refurbished and, I believe, open to the public. We didn’t stop, since we were on a mission.  There is a third lighthouse, but I leave it for you to find when you come down East.

After Cuckhold’s the tide and the water did pick up a bit but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. We slipped under the swing bridge and into the section of water called The Gut which meant our dock was near.

I don’t recall how long it took us to bag Maine by boat, but it was a solid morning’s work, an achievable but challenging goal, and surely we had the Best Day Ever to try it for the first time.