Last week I walked to five shipwrecks on Reeves Beach in Riverhead, NY. I had been told that they were out there, but what I found completely surpassed my wildest expectations. The wrecks were massive, far more intact than I figured they would be, and beautiful. What is something that you’ve come across on a walk, whether you expected it or not, that surprised you?
When I first moved to Philly I heard about an abandoned train tunnel so I grabbed a few friends to walk the tunnel covered in graffiti, piles of gravel, ladders of sunlight from above, traffic sounds far, far away, even though they were just above us, gorgeous tall ceilings. It was a brief refuge from the city summer heat and humidity. It was stunning. Something so large, made by people long ago. Made me feel small.
The tunnel opened up to a parking lot, but the mouth was blocked off with fencing. Instead of turning back we hopped the fence and walked through the parking lot, slowly realizing we'd wound up in the police station private lot some how. Someone asked how we got in and we just shrugged a lot and said we'd gotten lost on our way to the museum as we scurried to the public street.
This sounds like something dumb kids would do, but most of us were in our early thirties (probably still qualifying as dumb kids). The tunnel was stunning. I'd go back in a heartbeat, but I'll double back the way I came next time.
I thought a lot about the question you posed, and recalled the most surprising thing I’ve come across on a walk: a negative attitude about the very act of walking. I’ll try to explain.
One of the reasons I moved to a small town was so that I could walk everywhere. I was sick of city traffic with ever-increasing congestion, so the idea of being able to leave the car in the garage for days on end was tantalizing.
After I got my boxes unpacked, I’d often start the day by walking to the rec center so I could swim for half an hour. After a shower, I’d walk to a coffee shop for breakfast and chit-chat, then home. Around 11, I’d head over to the post office to see if I had mail (no home delivery), pick up something for lunch, then home for a nap. In the afternoon, I might stop by a friend’s store, or pick up a book at the library. In the evening I’d stroll through town one last time and watch the sunset.
If anyone commented on the fact that I walked everywhere, I’d explain what a relief it was. They’d nod or smile, but a few days later I’d have a similar conversation with another person. I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of my neighbors drove even short distances, and thought nothing of driving 2 hours to the nearest city—some did it every day!
One morning as I checked in for my swim, the man at the desk said “why are you mad at me?”
“Good morning to you too,” I shot back. “What are you talking about?”
“I honked at you yesterday and you didn’t even look up—you think you’re too good for me?”
Wow....having lived in a large city for decades, it never occurred to me to look at every passing car to see if I knew the driver....but after that, I waved at every car that went by.
But people never stopped commenting on the fact that I walked a lot. One of them said, “are you sure you own a house? I see you out walking all the time, like you’re homeless.”
When a couple went on vacation, they asked me to check on their cat, bring in the newspaper, water their plants. They had a lovely deck, so one evening I texted them a photo of me sitting on their deck. Immediately a reply came back: “you don’t even look homeless!”
Wait...had I acquired the reputation of “looking like I was homeless” because I walked a lot? How had something I enjoyed so much been turned into something negative? Talk about unexpected!
Long story short: I didn’t stay. I currently live in a bigger town where lots of people hike, bike, walk, take the train or bus....and yes, they drive too.
When I lived in Sandpoint Idaho I didn’t have a car which was fine because the town is only about 4 square miles. One morning while walking to work I turned onto a street and saw a moose about 2 blocks away just calmly eating leaves off a tree. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a moose in person but they are MASSIVE. And I’d heard they were mean so I didn’t stick around. But that was my first in person moose sighting and I was super excited! Just another reason why North Idaho felt magical and slightly surreal.
When I first moved to Philly I heard about an abandoned train tunnel so I grabbed a few friends to walk the tunnel covered in graffiti, piles of gravel, ladders of sunlight from above, traffic sounds far, far away, even though they were just above us, gorgeous tall ceilings. It was a brief refuge from the city summer heat and humidity. It was stunning. Something so large, made by people long ago. Made me feel small.
The tunnel opened up to a parking lot, but the mouth was blocked off with fencing. Instead of turning back we hopped the fence and walked through the parking lot, slowly realizing we'd wound up in the police station private lot some how. Someone asked how we got in and we just shrugged a lot and said we'd gotten lost on our way to the museum as we scurried to the public street.
This sounds like something dumb kids would do, but most of us were in our early thirties (probably still qualifying as dumb kids). The tunnel was stunning. I'd go back in a heartbeat, but I'll double back the way I came next time.
I was walking around in midtown last year and came across a statue of a hippo wearing a tutu. It was so whimsical and unexpected. I loved it!!
I thought a lot about the question you posed, and recalled the most surprising thing I’ve come across on a walk: a negative attitude about the very act of walking. I’ll try to explain.
One of the reasons I moved to a small town was so that I could walk everywhere. I was sick of city traffic with ever-increasing congestion, so the idea of being able to leave the car in the garage for days on end was tantalizing.
After I got my boxes unpacked, I’d often start the day by walking to the rec center so I could swim for half an hour. After a shower, I’d walk to a coffee shop for breakfast and chit-chat, then home. Around 11, I’d head over to the post office to see if I had mail (no home delivery), pick up something for lunch, then home for a nap. In the afternoon, I might stop by a friend’s store, or pick up a book at the library. In the evening I’d stroll through town one last time and watch the sunset.
If anyone commented on the fact that I walked everywhere, I’d explain what a relief it was. They’d nod or smile, but a few days later I’d have a similar conversation with another person. I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of my neighbors drove even short distances, and thought nothing of driving 2 hours to the nearest city—some did it every day!
One morning as I checked in for my swim, the man at the desk said “why are you mad at me?”
“Good morning to you too,” I shot back. “What are you talking about?”
“I honked at you yesterday and you didn’t even look up—you think you’re too good for me?”
Wow....having lived in a large city for decades, it never occurred to me to look at every passing car to see if I knew the driver....but after that, I waved at every car that went by.
But people never stopped commenting on the fact that I walked a lot. One of them said, “are you sure you own a house? I see you out walking all the time, like you’re homeless.”
When a couple went on vacation, they asked me to check on their cat, bring in the newspaper, water their plants. They had a lovely deck, so one evening I texted them a photo of me sitting on their deck. Immediately a reply came back: “you don’t even look homeless!”
Wait...had I acquired the reputation of “looking like I was homeless” because I walked a lot? How had something I enjoyed so much been turned into something negative? Talk about unexpected!
Long story short: I didn’t stay. I currently live in a bigger town where lots of people hike, bike, walk, take the train or bus....and yes, they drive too.
Every spring, when the bluebonnets bloom. I will never fail to be amazed to see a field of that color.
When I lived in Sandpoint Idaho I didn’t have a car which was fine because the town is only about 4 square miles. One morning while walking to work I turned onto a street and saw a moose about 2 blocks away just calmly eating leaves off a tree. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a moose in person but they are MASSIVE. And I’d heard they were mean so I didn’t stick around. But that was my first in person moose sighting and I was super excited! Just another reason why North Idaho felt magical and slightly surreal.