American Scramble 3

Break and Havre de Grace

American Ramble p. 119

I end up spending the night in the Baltimore suburbs. The next day we all walk the dog and I do some much-needed catching up with my high school friends. One is a doctor, one a lawyer and the other two have stable jobs and relationships. I always admired my friends, but I was nevertheless disturbed to see how the trappings of adulthood (defined here as a consistent job and woman) had been easier for them to take on. I never felt ahead of my friends, but until recently I also didn’t feel behind. 

We briefly have a bizarre conversation with a lesbian couple that very apologetically confides that they are putting their dog down. This is his last walk. He seems fine, but these two aren’t so odd that I think they’d kill a healthy animal. Anyway, we are honored to have a small part in his final day. 

Later with mixed feelings, I accept a ride back to Washington. For several reasons I want to take a day or two off the trail. First, my feet were still bothering me, and I thought I’d trade out trail runners for real hiking boots. There’s an interesting argument in the hiking community about shoes right now. From what I can glean, more and more people are going for distance with super lightweight shoes. In theory, heavier shoes should offer more protection. One video I found said that you need to get your gait analyzed to know what works best. I would like to do that one day - please subscribe! 

Towards the same end, I drop my tent and pad at home and just proceed with a sleeping bag, hoping I can find roadside motels or use the CouchSurfing app each night for the remainder of my trip. Some belated research had led me to believe there weren’t all that many campsites directly along my path anyway and I’d hoped the new shoes and lighter load might put my feet in a better spot. 

In addition to these walking concerns, I have a few networking phone calls related to potential jobs that are easier to take at home. One of these is with a Navy Officer, a friend of an old friend, who gives me some thoughts about a geriatric military career. One of the ulterior motives for my walking is to get down to a weight where I’d be able to join the Navy or the Air Force without a waiver. Towards this goal, I’ve made it about ⅔ of the way, though the phone call ended up intensifying my ambivalence about the armed forces rather than solidifying my position. The internal fight goes something like this: every veteran I know in Washington seems interesting and cool but they probably got that way because being in the military is hard. 

Another thing happens while I’m back in DC that makes me stay an extra day: a visit from another old friend. I don’t want to dox this guy, so I’ll just refer to him as the Mayor as it captures the role he played for our high school both then and now. I didn’t know the Mayor that well in high school except through reputation. He visits DC sometimes though, and I’ve gotten to know him over the past ten years. I consider myself in the top 1% in terms of keeping in touch with old friends, but I have nothing on the Mayor, and this is why I give him that moniker. As an example, while we were hanging out on a couch in downtown DC watching football, he happened to be texting with one of our middle school teachers I’d been trying to get a message to for over a year. The Mayor passed my message along immediately. 

American Ramble p. 133

Let me explain what I wanted to pass along. Years ago, a podcast I like had a segment about teachers and movies and I called in and left a message that they later played on the show. The message said that I had this eighth grade English teacher who thought all my essays were bad. As an ameliorative step, this teacher would give me a different movie every week and have me write a paragraph outlining the thesis of the film. I think my writing stayed shitty but the movies were great. I told this story and they played it on the podcast, and I’d been trying to get the clip to my old teacher through friends at home for years. Much respect and gratitude to the Mayor. 

The Mayor is another guy who has taken on the responsibilities of adulthood with seeming ease. Never denying the challenges and pitfalls of getting older, but seeming to face them with a sense of humor and resignation I both admire and fail to understand. Like always, it was great to see him. 

The Mayor wants me to come to another event the next night, but I decide two days off was already one too many and instead, I take the MARC train back to Baltimore and head northwest out of the city towards Aberdeen, tracking the continuing route of the same train I’d just been on.

American Ramble p. 142

At a gas station I get talking with a truck driver who tells me a little bit about this area before Havre de Grace. According to him, it’s like upstate New York with crabs and the same shortage of good jobs. He adds that the hunting is worse in Maryland, but once hurt his leg stepping into a hole under the snow tracking deer in New York. 

 This coastal area, between Baltimore and Havre de Grace, is both beautiful and rundown. I always associate the presence of seafood with wealth, but Maryland is constantly calling this assumption into question. 

After a day I reach Havre de Grace and stop to spend some time there. Again, it’s a Maryland coastal town that was at some point very nice but now seems like its best days are behind it. Then again, maybe visiting it outside of tourist season doesn’t give one a fair impression. There are about three blocks of pristine and old-fashioned downtown followed by rotting outskirts that give way almost immediately to desolate highway. Getting here required more highway walking than I am trying to do, but it was my fault as I’d left the East Coast Greenway path to get closer to the ocean earlier. 

I walk around Havre de Grace and find a few different access points to the water including a historic lighthouse. In the center of the town, many businesses are closed but there’s an open pub and I stop in for a few drinks. I become aware through signage in town that I am close to an access point for the Mason Dixon trail, and I could leave the East Coast Greenway entirely and head due north on an entirely different route. I don’t think I’m going to do this, and the sun is setting, but I walk to the trailhead anyway to see if it will enchant me enough to motivate the reroute. I take a picture of myself near the trailhead with my Sox cap over my face. 

On the way back, there is a big empty parking lot with ocean access. A cat plays below a big piece of construction equipment. I sit at the water for a little while, and when I walk back to the lot there is a beautiful young woman with a parked motorcycle setting up a tripod to record videos of herself. It seems clear that we have something in common as she’s clearly producing some sort of travel content. She is simply too attractive and engrossed in her task for me to approach. Maybe if I’d had another drink…

I walk back to my motel, which is outside of town and once I’ve already made it most of the way I realize I hadn’t eaten anything in several hours. I’m too tired to head back though, and decide to go to sleep after icing my feet. I sleep from about 8 to midnight and wake up extremely hungry. I walk up the highway to where Google says a Burger King is open but it’s only open for cars. I knock on the door but the teenage workers just shrug at me and laugh. Two miles of highway in the opposite direction there’s a Waffle House, and I know they turn no one away. 

When I walk inside, the few patrons and staff are laughing about some sort of incident that just took place. From what I could glean a gaggle of drunk women had walked in and made a mess. It couldn’t have been too bad though given everyone's good humor. The waiter/cook asks me if I’m from Kentucky and I’m extremely confused for a moment until I realize I’m wearing a Kentucky basketball jersey. I tell him that no, I have no special connection to Kentucky, I just love Antoine Walker, whose jersey I’m wearing. Now he’s confused. 

I get back to my room and wonder if I’ll be able to fall back asleep. I wonder idly about the underpopulation I encounter everywhere outside of metropoles. Where I live, I always feel a profound sense of impending doom. In the rest of America, normal places - it’s more like the big, bad thing already happened.

American Ramble p. 138