Yesterday, I drove my friend Gayle to Massachusetts.
We’re driving up route 287 through New Jersey, 50 miles into the journey, and the tire pressure light goes on. We drive a couple miles and no exits advertise gas stations, so eventually I get off at the next exit. We drive through some beautiful tree-lined streets, no businesses in site, and eventually I see a sign for police. I follow it.
If I need to wait for AAA, a police station nearby is a good thing. And maybe a police station means a town. No such luck.
Eventually, I pull over. I can’t find the tire gauge we used to keep in Eva’s car. She confirms it never made it into my car. Gayle uses her phone and finds the nearest QuickCheck while I walk around the car kicking the tires and listening for hissing sounds that would indicate a nail or something in the tire. With the tires having passed my inspection, we head to the closest QuickChek.
We use the facilities. They have no air machine. So we walk to the Auto Zone next door and buy a cheap tire gauge and a quart of oil. Might as well buy the quart of oil.
It looks like Gayle’s side of the car might be a little low. We drive across the street to the Sunoco. No air. We get back on the highway, and two exits later, we see a sign for Wawa. As we look for Wawa, we see a QuickChek with air. I fill all the tires. The light does not go out. I reset the light. It comes on.
Eventually, we give up and drive with the light on.
We arrived in Mystic, Connecticut at 12:20 instead of 11:15. But the shopping village near the aquarium where one can find Alice’s Little Haunted Bookshop was very cool. So cool that Gayle was cold and huddled in the corner… Actually, Gayle found some great children’s books but she really was cold and I didn’t notice how miserable she looked because I was preoccupied with the chandelier.
But the true winners at the shopping village were Becca Rose (so much tarot and books, so many spooky hair clips) and Cloak & Wand— a coffee shop that sold wands and cloaks and books.
From there, Gayle wanted to check out the walk box for the local Volkssport trail which was at a Howard Johnson’s nearby and we had lunch at Mystic Diner while plotting our next adventure. The hope was a short walk– not the full 5K– and then heading over to Stonington to see the new location of Square Bank Books and visit Lara Ehrlich’s writing studio, Thought Fox Writers Den.
But Mystis had too many interesting twists and turns, and a candy store, and a drawbridge, and we ended up starting the walk at the wrong entrance of the museum and adding more than half a mile…
So while we walked by the former location of the bookstore, we did not make it to the new one. The drive to Massachusetts was uneventful, except for some traffic in Worcester and discussion of my great grandmother’s birthplace in Lowell.
We arrived at Doubletree for our warm cookies around 6:30 and I had dinner and was in the hot tub by 8 p.m. The hotel restaurant where we ate was named Characters— another omen that we ended up in the right place. Speaking of omens we found pennies at just about every stop today.
Yesterday, my friend Gayle and I embarked on an adventure. I wanted to motivate myself toward more movement and healthier living and Gayle enjoys visiting new towns via self-guided walks designed by local clubs of the American Volkssporting Association. Gayle has wanted to hit the Ephrata, Pa., walk (which is about 90 minutes away from our homes) and I love a day trip. The walk is maintained by the Susquehanna Rovers.
Gayle packed lunch. I packed sunscreen. I even tossed some electrolyte powders packets in my bag, knowing it would be a sunny summer day. I took my muscle relaxers.
Off we went.
The background
Now, as someone with a mobility disability (cerebral palsy, spastic diplegia), I suspected– or perhaps even knew– that this would end with some sort of injury or discomfort. I had hoped that having this walk, a 5K by design, would motivate me to get away from my desk and wander around the neighborhood.
That didn’t happen. I could blame the heat wave, but in reality, I doubt I would have changed my behavior even if the weather were nice.
In the end, I said to myself, “Anyone can walk a 5K.”
And in one respect, I was correct. I did it. On the other hand, it was stupid. And I’m suffering because of it. But that’s getting ahead of myself.
I wanted to use this walk to see how my movement was in a more long-term commitment. I wanted to test my breathing and my heart rate. I suspect a lot of my health issues will not resolve until I lose at least 20, if not 30, or even 35 pounds (at which point I ask myself– how did I gain this much weight so quickly?)
So this walk would help me evaluate my true status and make health-related goals.
That was my logic. Was it a tad reckless? Maybe, maybe not.
The Walk
Ephrata has a lovely main street, historic buildings and apparently monuments– none of which we saw because the 5K was mostly through residential neighborhoods. And we missed a turn somewhere and ended up shaving off about a half mile. Our time for our 2.8 mile 5K was about 31 minutes a mile, and we periodically stopped to enjoy the shade, look at weird buildings, and sometimes cuss about hills.
AVA walks are rated, and this was a 1B which means it was supposed to be easy, with sidewalks and the occasional hill. But if you looked at the “fine print,” the walk was rated “medium” for strollers and “hard” for wheelchairs. I think for the foreseeable future Gayle and I need 1A walks that are easy for wheelchairs.
So here’s my analysis of what we saw in Ephrata on the 5K:
A gnome garden. I like this tiered design of outdoor knick knacks. I’m not sure what sense it makes, but it seems like a concept the no-longer-a-Teenager would embrace.
A neighborhood egg stand, that was closed.
Your going to have to google this for yourself. “Best Kept Secrets Tour.” “Shopping, Food & Fun adventures.”
The strangest “double” homes I’ve ever seen. The walk took us through an entire neighborhood of attached, split-level homes. I own “half a double,” and some neighborhoods in my area are row homes that expand an entire block. But I have never seen neighborhoods like these. I fail to understand the logic. There are two reasons to “attach” homes– one is to lower the cost by sharing a wall, and the second is to squeeze more people into a smaller space.
These homes have the space to be detached. They are on suburban lots. So, if you are going to invest in a suburban home, why would you want (or even accept?) being attached to your neighbor. There were also attached ranch homes, with the same concept, but just without the extra stories. And some had a strange shared doorway in the middle, like a breezeway, so they were both attached and detached.
We did see a lot of great distant views. Mountains in the distance. Clear skies.
One of the first things we encountered was the Anne Brossman Sweigert Charitable Foundation, with a family sculpture out front and a sign engraved on a grave marker. (They also have not updated their website in almost 10 years according to the “grant history” tab.) Why did they place their sign on a grave marker? So it didn’t blow away? Fade?
Around the two-mile mark, we realized we had missed the turn and reached our threshold for the residential tour, and ironically, we ended up taking a street parallel to the main drag back to the hotel where the walk-box is stored.
Interlude: Early in the walk, I noticed my right leg was pulling in toward my left leg. So, minding my fitness and strength coach’s advice, I led with my knees to make sure I wouldn’t end up tripping over my own legs due to my knees facing inward. I tried stretching, to see if I could get my hips and thighs to move more outwardly, but I couldn’t come up with the right movement.
Nothing hurt, but damn everything was tight, and my legs fought me with every step.By the time we climbed the hill and stairs by the hotel, my back was starting to feel the stress. My legs didn’t want to lift. So I made it to the car and popped another muscle relaxer.
Step count: about 8,500
The Ephrata Cloister
We went to Ephrata Cloister, driving down the main drag and wondering why the walk couldn’t have shown us all these lovely local businesses and perhaps led us to a cafe where we could have rested. We had a savory-and-sweet vegan chickpea and carrot salad with a side of grapes for lunch. From there we headed into the gift shop.
At the gift shop, I found an impressive collection of wood crafts, paper folding kits for Moravian Stars, quilted cards, replacement ink for quills, Amish novels and a nice selection of Pennsylvania Dutch nonfiction books.
The no-longer-a-Teenager is mostly Pennsylvania Dutch on her father’s side. One paternal great-grandfather was Welsh, but all of her other paternal great-grandparents were Pennsylvania Dutch. Her paternal grandmother’s father spoke Pennsylvania Dutch (Leroy Buss) as his first language, learning English at the one-room schoolhouse he entered at age five. I would have loved to buy her a Pennsylvania Dutch to English dictionary or Superstitions and Folklore of the Pennsylvania Dutch, but the budget did not allow.
We visited the museum where we learned that the Cloister was a spiritual community with roots in Germany that came to Pennsylvania, just like the Quakers and the Moravians, in the early 18th century for religious freedom.** They had strict beliefs and practices, one of which was celibacy so it became impossible to keep the community alive. (The “householders” later became the German Seventh Day Baptist Church. Householders were the families on neighboring farms who supported the community and their religious beliefs without going all in on the celibacy, vegetarianism, and sleeping on a wooden block disciplines.)
We also saw a really long glass horn.
** 1720. That’s more than FIFTY YEARS before the Revolutionary War.
The tour
Gayle and I like to support local history and nonprofits, and who doesn’t love the story of a good old colonial cult. So, we embarked on the tour.
First, we watched a really information-packed but poorly acted and filmed movie. You can watch it online here. (This was where Gayle thought she lost her phone and I got a text from a client who needed me to do something later that day.) We were told the tour was 45 minutes to an hour long, depending how many questions people had, and that we should be on our way at 3 p.m., 3:15 p.m. at the latest.
Gayle was hoping the tour would send us all over the grounds walking from building to building. I was suddenly starting to hurt and could barely stand. Neither of us voiced what we were thinking to the other.
“You’ll love the tour guide,” the volunteer at the desk said. “He’s really knowledgeable and passionate.”
Our tour guide took ten minutes to get us out the door because already other members of the tour were asking stupid questions covered by the movie we had just watched. We walked out to the middle of the yard, not even a half acre away where the tour guide announced we had reached the village.
We stood outside for a long time, at first talking about architecture, then the idiots with us had to debate how old the trees might be, and whether they were “original.” I was mesmerized the whole time by a man who looked very Mennonite/new order Amish/”Dutchy.” You don’t think the Pennsylvania Dutch have certain genetic “looks,” but they do.
Now, somewhere around this time, it became difficult to know when the tour guide was telling us historical fact, and when he was expounding on his own “theories” (his word). He talked a lot about significance of numbers, how the triangle formed by the Village served as a reminder of our path to God, and the powers of the mystics. This is where I, as a journalist and a historian, started to get annoyed. He provided no proof of the sources of his ideas. (Here are some of the official lectures on the topics.)
We stood in the main living area of what became the Sister’s House. Eventually we ended up in the Meeting Room. We were *locked in* the building, so strangers who had not purchased the tour could not wander in. I know this because the Dutchy man needed to leave and he could not without interrupting the tour.
I faded in and out of the door mentally because my legs were hurting at about an eight. When we left the meeting room and entered the add-on kitchen, I was ready to fight the sweet little old ladies for a space on the small bench. My heartrate had been soaring since we started the tour (130s when standing and 110 when seated) probably in response to the pain. There was room for all of us.
Interior of the Meeting House (saal, meaning “room.”)
At this point, my plan was to sneak out of the tour when he let us out of the building and to tell Gayle to take her time as I would sit outside and read my book. But it turned out the tour was only to this building.
Our tour guide unlocked the door at 3:40 p.m.
The repercussions
By the time I went to bed, my pain levels had reached a nine. They are between a six and seven today and I’m taking it easy. I think my body has forgotten how to walk. As a person who deals with spasticity, which means my muscles in my legs never relax, I have a theory. This is the first long walk I’ve taken probably in years, certainly since I started taking muscle relaxers. It’s the first long walk I’ve taken since I started fitness training with Andrew, and even more certainly, the first I’ve taken since he had to pause our sessions several months ago. And I sit at a desk now, 8-10 hours a day, seven days a week, and walk 3,500 to 5,000 steps a day.
So, sure I overdid it.
But I still maintain that I have never moved the way I moved yesterday. I fried my adductors.
Hard to believe for several months from 2020-2021 I was a picker in the Stitch Fix warehouse where I walked miles and miles and miles every night, five days a week.
For more about this trip and some discussion of books, printing and those arts at the Cloisters, see ParisianPhoenix.com.
I have had a great month in October. My boot is off. I had a fantastic ortho who released me from his care on Wednesday (Thanks, Dr. Sacco.) I also have a team of physical therapists who have taught me so much in the four short weeks we’ve been together. (And I will probably have my final session with them on Monday.)
This weekend my family and I joined the Liberty Bell Wanderers in Willow Grove where we will visit four state parks. Today we walked 10 miles on trails and more around town.
We arrived at the hotel where most of the group was staying at 8 a.m. We were on the road fairly early for our first stop: a 10K walk through Fort Washington State Park. By about mile 4.5 my ankle had that mild soreness, but we came upon a playground so the swings, monkey bars and, no lie, FOUR WAY SEE-SAW soon made me forget a twinge of discomfort.
Oh! And we saw hawks swirling around at the Hawk Observation Deck.
Lunch was at Feliz Cantina. There we experienced a true culinary miracle: gaucamole with candied pecans, bacon and blue cheese. And I tried fish tacos. And I liked them!
We went back to the hotel where we moved from (my friend and fellow walker) Gayle’s room to our room. She’s staying with us tonight. After a very brief respite, we headed out to Tyler State Park which reminded me of our local park, Jacobsburg.
We only attempted a 5K, and to keep child happy we let her take photos of people’s dogs. I’ll have to do a count and perhaps a gallery of her dog photos.
Once again we found ourselves at the Hampton Inn in Willow Grove where child immediately hopped in the shower. I had brought cake pops from Starbucks, microwave popcorn and board games in my suitcase. Gayle and I went out for beverages (found a 7-eleven a half mile away) and somehow ended up with a pizza. On foot.
We had pizza, cake and chocolate milk and played Ticket to Ride (the board game). Child crawled in bed without a fight at 7:45.
We all slept longer than we expected to after our first day in Gettysburg. So much I wanted to do, yet we couldn’t even arrive at breakfast until close to 8:30. Luckily, our hotel was less than a half a mile from the start point of Gettysburg Walk #2 (hosted by the York White Rose Wanderers). My plan was this: continental breakfast at the hotel, 5k battlefield/monument trail, water and snack break, then the 5k town trail, have lunch in town, head to the confederate trail and do one of the 5k out-and-back trails before heading home.
The continental breakfast at the hotel featured plenty of bread, oatmeal, cereal, orange juice and coffee as expected but did not have any pitchers of water. So we left breakfast, in my opinion, not hydrated enough.
We set out for the walk, and before even going a mile we were sidetracked by the various monuments, Pickett’s Charge and of course, the Pennsylvania monument which we had to climb.
This boulder came from the school yard in Massachusetts where the soldier who died has went to school.
The walk wound through some wooded areas and down to the visitors center, where we gulped our weight in water at the fountains.
We also learned about the gear the Union soldiers carried, like the half tent, and how the guns worked.
Somehow, we managed to make the 5k into 5 miles by the time we made it to the hotel. It was 11 a.m. and check out was noon. The family begged for a dip in the pool. I gave them a half hour to swim while I repacked the bags that were dumped out to find the already packed bathing suits. I also uploaded my photos and had a snack. Everyone dressed again, we checked out, and we drove to the National Cemetery parking area for the town trail.
At the Rupp Center we learned about spinning wool and the differences between wool and cotton fibers.
We had a great time perusing shops, had lunch at The Pub which we had missed the day before. Amazing burgers. Mine had blue cheese and chocolate chips. Yes, you read that correctly, blue cheese and chocolate chips. Which was funny because on Wednesday I had a funky burger at Twin Rivers Brewing Company that had peanut butter and bacon. Both blew my mind.
We had reached about 4 miles at this point, and we backtracked to visit the malt shop. I have a weakness for a good malted milkshake. And this was very worth it.
We had already surpassed 9 miles for the day by the time we reached the car. My daughter was stuffed with too much burger and milkshake. We drove out to the confederate trails. More unbelievably pretty monuments. Some so lifelike they were eerie. We trudged out of the car, all very tired at this point, and did our best to complete the 5k trail that left from the amphitheater.
We all came home exhausted. Good news is that my daughter finished her AVA 10 event book. Husband is the only one left who hasn’t reached that milestone.
The moral of the story: You need three days in Gettysburg, not two.
My schedule suddenly opened up for a Monday— no plans for child or myself. The weekend had passed normally, which meant some of it was fun and some of it involved pre-puberty meltdowns every five minutes from my tormented eleven year old. My husband had to work, as usual, on Monday and I wanted to do *something* that would keep the child and I occupied. Preferably fun.
So, over my cup of coffee with my husband in the wee hours, I searched the AVA web site from my phone. We’re members of AVA—American Volkssporting Association, a group that sponsors self-guided walking tours of various points of interest— and our closest thing to a local chapter (Liberty Bell Wanderers).
I found walks in communities anywhere from an hour to three hours away, some in the mountains, one in Hershey, another in Lancaster, history-commemorating walks in Philadelphia, and many in New Jersey, including the shore points.
At 7 a.m., I roused the child and told her if she wanted to take a road trip and do a Volkssport Walk she needed to rise and shine. I consider volkssporting educational (reading maps, following directions, filling out paperwork, and learning about new places) and a good source of exercise since I push for the 10K walk whenever possible. Anything to keep the family moving. In my daughter’s mind, volkssporting means an interesting day, usually with a meal in a restaurant, and the chance to buy drinks at convenience stores.
In other words, a win-win.
I let her pick the destination. This avoids the pouting that eventually happens if “we always do what Mommy wants to do.” The first part of the equation was to narrow down the distance she wanted to travel. She told me she was willing to drive as far as D.C. That pretty much meant anything I might be willing to drive. I thought she’d want to stay a little close to home. But no. She is an adventurer at heart.
She picked Barnegat Lighthouse on Long Beach Island. The fact that she selected a beach did not surprise me, but it did somewhat surprise me that she picked Barnegat when I had offered shore points much closer to home. She opted for the 135 mile car ride.
We didn’t set out until 7:50 a.m., and we had to stop for gas so I suppose our true start time was 8:10 a.m. We hit a bit of a travel snarl on 78E, which could be anticipated at such an hour on a Monday. It kept moving and we only “lost” about ten minutes. We hooked up with 287 and headed down to the Garden State Parkway, making our only potty stop at the Cheesequake Travel Plaza. Having never visited before, we didn’t realize there was a commuter lot and ended up parking— no exaggeration, I clocked it on FitBit— a half mile from the building. Honestly, after the first leg of our journey, the walk felt good.
We arrived on Long Beach Island about 10:30ish. We drove down the island for what felt like forever. Passing beach upon beach was like a tour in itself, like an endless array of possibilities. My daughter turned out to be an excellent navigator.
We arrived at Kubel’s Restaurant at 11:07 a.m. The restaurant had the official walk box. It didn’t open until noon, but we didn’t exactly know that. We couldn’t find any info on the door or online so we decided to walk out to the lighthouse because the official walk had to pass the lighthouse.
It was at this point that I realized I didn’t have my ATM card. This shouldn’t have been a shock as I never carry my ATM card. But usually I am with my husband who has his ATM card. And we were in a tourist area, heavily cash-based. I had something like $29 in toll money left and an additional $9 in our walking binder. I knew, if we climbed the lighthouse, I wanted to reward my daughter with the $15 t-shirt that required cash.
After a quick tour of the area around the lighthouse onto the jetty and back. We happened upon a man fishing at the exact moment he caught a fish. We watched him unhook the fish and toss it back because it was too small. (We also saw a man with a prosthetic leg.)
This allowed us to see how much admission to the lighthouse would be. We stopped at the visitor’s center to use the bathroom and meandered back to Kubel’s as we were starved and thirsty.
We arrived at 12:01, got the walk box and a table and had the most amazing mac and cheese ever, baked lobster mac and cheese.
It featured those thick spiral noodles with gooey cheese and a crisp top, with some grated cheese on that, and the innards had peas, cherry tomatoes and get this— diced tiny green beans. Delightful. Truly.
We decided to do the 10K. Our adventure took us to see the boats at the High Bar Harbor yacht club.
We deviated from the path to enjoy a 1/2 mile walk along the tip of the Atlantic Ocean, then back to the main drag.
At some point we stopped at White’s Market for cold drinks. I even let the child have a black cherry Stewarts. The lady in the market gave us a paper with favorite things to do on it, and I have to say, the list tempts me to return. It’s an awesome list.
We also stopped at the post office to mail our start cards to the Princeton Area Walkers.
We finished the day with a climb to the top of the lighthouse.
After walking about 8 miles before the 217 step staircase, I have to admit my thighs protested heavily at the bottom. Might be the first time I ever had thigh cramps. They still ache a bit today.
The day was fabulous and I didn’t even get that much sunburn.
Since my trip to Niagara Falls with the Liberty Bell Wanderers, my family has joined me as official members of that group and the American Volkssporting Association. With their help, I recently finished my initial 10-event book and will now have my own walker number.
I am thrilled with this activity. Volkssporting is non-competitive walking or bike riding, typically for 5k or 10k distances, though sometimes 6k or 15k. The local group that sponsors the walk will have a start location posted on the AVA website. At that location, usually a hotel or a YMCA because of the flexible hours of the facility, there will be a “start” or “walk box.”
In the walk box, there’s a registration form, a start card and a stamp. You fill out the registration form, stamp your book(s), and fill out a start card. Also in the box are directions and envelopes. The envelope allows you to mail your completed start card and payment to the walk administrator (otherwise known as point of contact.)
From there, it’s like a walking tour/scavenger hunt. I usually ask my 11-year-old to read the directions and the map because it’s a good skill for her to practice.
We have recently done North and South Bethlehem, New Hope PA/Lambertville NJ, and Doylestown, PA.
In Bethlehem, we visited the grave of poet HD.
In Doylestown, we hob-knobbed with the history.
Apparently, Doylestown has concrete castles similar to the Edison-inspired concrete house neighborhood in Phillipsburg NJ.
New Hope had lots of artsy views.
Not to mention a mansion that could have belonged to one of my husband’s relatives…
But Lambertville NJ had the most amazing falafel and kufta…
My daughter, who’s struggling to transition from her active elementary school years to a more sedentary middle school life, is outside again and moving so that makes me happy. My husband likes to walk and likes our adventurous day trips. I am so thankful for such a fun family activity.
And unlike bowling, it doesn’t require heavy equipment or ugly shoes.
Angel Ackerman 