The Turnpike Terrors

Hoyle and I are only mere moments from our leap off of the edge of eastern New Jersey into the mangled and maniacal maw of Manhattan and greater New York City beyond. But first, let’s reflect…

They say it takes about a month for an AT thru-hiker to walk the Appalachians across Virginia. Dear sweet Hoyle and I drove across the state in about six and a half hours. We had a date in the country’s capital and couldn’t be late. The lush mountains turned into hills and those into sweeping horse farms made of white fences and micro managed landscapes. Lighting bugs are like wild fires out there, like misplaced, blinking stars in every direction. Strobes of tiny green lights like a host of playful animals constantly blinking in the woods. In the end, we of course missed our date in DC and opted instead for our first hotel on the trip. Refreshing. The next day we wandered into busy Georgetown not far from the president’s house and lounged around for most of the day people-watching in the district. A quick nap on the lawn near the Potomac River and then a walk to a friend’s pizza bistro where we drank some of the strongest beers I have ever chanced to sip (and ate some delicious oven baked pizzas). From there, our host, Ben, introduced us to the DC nightlife. We met a real friendly bartender in a seedy bar where they serve you a whiskey-coke by giving you a plastic cup, a bucket of ice, a can of Coca-Cola and a small bottle of Jack Daniels. You do the rest. The bartender indulged us in stories of his childhood selling heroine (pronounced “hair-on” by him) in the old Washington DC neighborhoods not far from where we were drinking. Hookah bars. Rooftop bars. Lots of sidewalk banter. Late night diner. We meant to see a few museums the next day but just didn’t have the energy for it.

Cedars was treated to breakfast in the woods outside of town and then we headed north. We then proceeded to be violated by the New Jersey turnpike system, which ate our dollars and quarters like a hungry savage road troll. We stopped to watch a movie and relax from the madness. Finally, we made it to the country, to the Pennsylvania/New Jersey state line along the Delaware River.  People, this place is paradise. So incredibly quaint, so romantic, so fussy, so cute. Little villages nestled in and among the mountains and along the river. Lost of old stone barns, lots of homes with Sotheby’s signs outside. Lost of expensive bed and breakfasts. Tubers on the river. Teams of road bikes hugging the curves of the roads. Covered bridges. American flags. Herds of deer in every direction. Geese. Geese. Geese. We weren’t sure we ever wanted to leave and also couldn’t understand the spell that this place had on us. We eventually found a secluded hiking trail and camping spot with advice from some local rock climbers and walked into the woods after sunset to sleep under the thickly canopied trees. 

Saturday we ambled through the countryside of New Jersey in no hurry and with no particular aim or destination. We searched out old historic land markers or points of interests – all or most of which were disappointing. Towards the evening we found ourselves in the northern part of the state, again near the Appalachian Trail and in the mountains. We pretended to be hikers and slept in the basement of a church, washed our clothes there, took some showers, shot some hoops and wandered out to the only bar in town to take in some live music and some odd New Jersey culture. 

And now we stand on the cusp of the big city. Soon, we’ll separate from Cedars and the Jeep – one in a kennel and one tucked away in a parking garage respectively. Then it’s to the subway system we go. We press on and ever on. Until the budget demands otherwise. Until the adventure runs it course. Ever on.