New Jersey Conversations – And on into Pennsylvania: August 26-27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009 – entry #1
At 4.30 am I packed up my tent in the dark. Several slugs and wood lice had decided to take up residence on my pack, but were soon removed with a few flicks of the finger. With everything packed I stumbled across the rough wasteland and back on to the Sussex Turnpike. It was now about 5 am.
After two nights in a hot and sweaty tent I was feeling just a little bit grubby. I hoped to clean myself up and get breakfast at Succasunna.
Radio Makes the Time Fly
To pass the time I cranked up my radio, which is powered by winding a small hand crank. The radio randomly selected the stations, and I enjoyed a variety of music and talk radio. There was one guy who had been charged $30,000 dollars for 3 days in a hospital. There was also a joke that someone who thought they had fractured their wrist put their hand in an airport security X-ray machine to save on hospital bills.
The big news that day was the death of Senator Edward Kennedy. In praising Kennedy, references were made to his work in bringing better health care to the American people. Listening to the radio made the miles of walking fly by. By 7.30 am I was walking into Succasunna.
A Burger King looked like a good spot to have breakfast and use the restroom. A ham omelette sandwich, orange juice, milk and coffee filled me up. The staff of the Burger King looked a little worried by my appearance, so maybe I was looking a bit rough. In the restroom I had a quick shave, washed my teeth and face and felt much better.
As I walked out of Succasunna a sign said that the Delaware Water gap was about 34 miles away. I was glad that mileage signs had now started to appear.
Things Are Looking Hopeful
The day was marked by meeting people at the places where I stopped to eat.
At Dino's Pizzeria, a traditional Italian pizza place, I ordered a turkey sub, but was amazed when it was put in front of me. It was massive. I managed to tackle half of it.
As I ate a man gave me a $5 donation.
One of the cooks called Gino came over and talked to me about soccer. When my sandwich was half eaten I had to admit defeat at conquering it in its entirety.
Gino shook my hand and off I headed into another hot day. He had given me a free bottle of water and he also told me there was a motel just down the road after Hackettstown. It was good. The people that I was meeting were interested in what I was doing on the walk...things were starting to look hopeful.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009 – entry #2
After two days of walking in 90 degree temperatures and camping I had problems with chafed legs. I decided discretion was the better part of valour...and decided to book into a motel if there was one available.
The Happy Promise of a Motel Room
Hot and sweaty, with sore legs I hobbled into Hackettstown. An impressive Inn stood to the left of the road, but looked decidedly closed. Across the street from the inn was a small place called “Sub Shack.” I decided to go in and ask if there were any motels ahead.
I learned there, from a young woman called Ezzie, that there was an Econo Court Motel about four miles from Hackettstown, close to Vienna. I thanked Ezzie and took her photo.
I rushed to cover the 4 miles and hoped there would be room at the inn. The four miles seem to take forever. My sore feet and chafed legs made the going tough. After what seemed like an eternity, a set of yellow painted wooden chalets appeared and there was the Econo Court.
By now it was about 7 pm. I walked up to the office and waved at a lady inside. She opened the door and all was well. The lady was Win Smith. It turned out that her mother had been educated in a private school in Aintree, near Liverpool, in England. Win's family background was Irish and Scottish. We talked for some time and I told her that she had saved my day.
With the key to room 7 (my lucky number) in my hand I hobbled off to the room.
An Inventory of Discomfort
In no time I was having a shower. It was good that I did. My legs were red and sore on the inside of my thighs, almost to the point of bleeding. The water made the sores sting, but it was good to get them clean. On my legs too were 32 mosquito bites that were itching badly. My head ached at the back from dehydration and the effects of the sun. On top of this I had 5 blisters on my feet.
Once my shower was done I used shampoo to wash my shorts and socks.
Trying to get clean and dry socks and shorts would be important in giving my sores chance to heal. Luckily I had a second pair of shorts that I would wear the next day. If all went well those shorts would give me sores in different places and my legs would heal.
In the motel room I hung up my tent from a door to allow it to dry out on the bottom, where the grass had been damp with dew and on the inside where it was damp from my sweat. Around the once neat motel room the contents of my pack were strewn all about.
The Green Light of the Blackberry
The last logistical thing to do was write and send my blog and recharge the blackberry and camera batteries. With a splitting headache and trying not to fall asleep I wrote and sent my blog entries. By 2.30 am the job was done. The battery on the blackberry was almost dead. I plugged it in to a power socket to charge it and the flashing green light cast crazy shadows in the room.
I turned off the light and instantly fell asleep.
Thursday, August 27, 2009 – entry #1
Feeling Better – But Not Perfect
I woke at about 7 am. My head still hurt from the effects of sun and water loss. I drank several glasses of cold water.
My stomach was also affected, partly from the sun and partly from eating half a ton of lettuce and salad in the two huge sub sandwiches that I'd eaten. As I looked in the mirror, my face and neck were red, there were bruises on my shoulders and upper arms from the heavy pack and the 30 or so mosquito bites were weeping. Apart from that, and the sore legs and blisters, everything was fine. I did feel much better than when I had arrived at the Econo Court.
I packed my gear away and spent an hour phoning up hospices. Mostly I got voice mail. On the voice mails I updated people on the walk and asked them to e mail me if possible. The call to Joe Eydt at London Hospice in Canada cheered me up no end. Joe would be having me stay with him and the plans were all coming together. Joe's constant enthusiasm breathed life back into my battered body.
By 10 am I was ready to go. I cleaned out my pack a bit. It felt good to start shedding weight from the pack.
Leaving the key in the room I set off for Vienna.
My feet, which made me hobble like an old man the night before decided to play ball...at least for now. They hurt, but in no time the pain burned away.
Breakfast – and a $20 Donation
Not far from the motel was a gas station and store. At about 10.20 it was time for breakfast. Inside the store, the young woman looked a bit startled as I walked in with my pack, but once I'd bought a cheese, bacon and egg sandwich, orange juice and chocolate milk, she relaxed and began to chat away.
To eat the food I sat on a bench outside. It was good. The skies were overcast and the temperatures probably less than 70. After temperatures in the 90's it was much better. My head still had the slightest nagging ache and my throat was sore, but I could feel myself recovering. The sandwich was good too.
As I sat eating, my pack sat beside me on the bench. The “Walking For Hospice” sign on the pack drew comments from several people who turned up at the gas station, who asked how far I was walking and what the walk was about. I was just finishing my food when a car pulled up and a young woman rolled down the window.
“Are you taking donations for hospice?”
“Yes, if you want to give one. I am walking from New York to North Dakota. On the way I'll visit about 30 hospices. What's your name?”
“Cassie.” The young woman handed me a 20 dollar note, which took my total collected to $32. I thanked Cassie and off she drove.
At just before 11 am I set off for the Delaware Water Gap and Pennsylvania.
Thursday, August 27, 2009 – entry #2
Shared Grief – and A Chance to Touch Someone’s Life
The road from Vienna, New Jersey down to the Delaware River was broad, with little traffic. I listened to music on a small CD player. With the skies overcast and grey the temperatures were much lower than they had been. A large butterfly flew in front of me for a short distance, as if leading the way. It landed on some leaves by the roadside. I snuck up to it and snapped a photo.
“My Dad has Cancer”
I hadn't been walking long when a pickup truck pulled over and stopped right by me. The window rolled down and inside was a lady who looked to be in her forties. She asked about the walk and I gave her the short version.
“Why are you doing the walk?” The woman wanted to know more.
“My mother died from cancer and I wanted to do something to help other people with cancer and serious illnesses,” I answered.
As I said this, I was not far from tears. It is strange how the grief and loss of someone close, which you think you are over, can just reappear, even after years of trying to get over it.
She said, “I'm sorry to hear about your Mom. My Dad has cancer now, too. He needs to go on a special ventilator, but there are only eight of them in New Jersey and a waiting list for them. I've just been phoning our senator to see if more machines can be bought. It may be too late for my dad, but hopefully other people won't have to go through what my dad is. The hospital wanted to send him to Illinois, but we want him close...not hundreds of miles away.”
“It must be hard for you. Have you thought of contacting hospice? They may be able to help. 'The hospice nurses that I've met on my journey have been amazing.”
“I might give them a call.”
It Felt Good to Connect
The contact we had was brief, but it was good that I could listen. She needed to talk and share what she was going through. I wished her luck and hoped that things would turn out as well as they could. I gave her the details of the National Hospice Foundation website, touched her lightly on the shoulder and we said good bye.
It only took a matter of minutes, but it had been important.
As she drove away I was close to tears, as I shared her grief and remembered my own.
What This Walk is All About
The green leaves of tall trees whispered in the wind and the sound of a fast flowing river and chirping insects filled the air. All around me there was life, which helped breathe life back into me. The chance meeting with this woman on a quiet back road was what the walk was about.
The walk was about making a difference...no matter how small or to how few people. If it could bring a smile to someone's face, or allow one woman to ease her pain if only for a few moments, then maybe there was a reason to walk 12,000 miles.
Thursday, August 27, 2009 – entry #3
A Day of Chatting with People --and a Scary Night Walking into Pennsylvania
As I walked, I passed a gas station. Parked up at the gas station, but not quite in the right place was a black car. I sensed it was someone else who wanted to talk. As I walked up to the car the side window rolled down.
A Young Widow’s Testimony about Hospice
“Hi my name's Valerie...are you the guy walking for hospice?” Somehow she’d heard of me!
Valerie was in her thirties and bright and lively. We talked a little about what I was up to and Valerie told me her story. Her husband had been helped by hospice. Valerie said that the hospice nurses and counselors had been wonderful.
More important than the words though was the way she looked. She was happy...it was that simple and the hospice nurses and counselors had given her the strength to be happy. Valerie had two young children she was raising, with some help from her mother, and she was training to teach small children. We talked and I gave her my contact details and off she went.
Balinder Singh
The man who owned the gas station then came up to me to ask what I was doing. He was a Sikh from the. Punjab in India. His name was Baljinder Singh...which curiously was the same name as a friend I had at university back in the 1980's. Once he knew I was walking for hospice he invited me into the gas station and said I could have anything I wanted free of charge. I chose an orange juice and a candy bar...and they were wonderful.
English Money or U.S. Money – Either is OK with This Guy
At Bridgeville a man with silver curly hair and a twinkle in his eye was selling hotdogs and sodas outside a shop for motorbikes. The sun had emerged from the clouds and a cool soda sounded like a good idea. I got a Barq's root beer. The cost was $1.
I went to pay him with some change, but I have about six pockets in which it could be hidden…I found change...but it was English money. Curiously the man said he would take an English dollar for an American dollar. The upshot of this strange encounter was that I got a soda and $1, while he got a one pound coin. I felt a bit bad about this...so then gave him a two pound coins, and three other British coins.
The man's name was Gerry Rowe. He had been an engineer and had been in the Navy and fought in Korea. He showed me photos of himself when he was just 17 in Navy uniform. He also showed me a picture of his first motorbike. Gerry took my photo and I took one of him.
I asked if business was good, to which he replied, “I'm retired...business doesn't have to be good.” I took that as a no. Gerry had to pack up his hotdog stall, so we said goodbye and off I went.
A Real Meal! And a Waitress from England
Not far from Bridgeville I spotted the Buckwood Bistro. It was a big building and looked slightly “upmarket” from my usual Wendy's, Burger King and Dunkin Donuts. I decided to give it a go.
As I walked in a smart lady dressed in black showed me to my table and then reeled off about 100 specials. I was amazed and impressed. I ordered black bean soup and jumbalaya. Both were fantastic. After burgers and the like it was good to have real food.
It turned out that my waitress had been born in Liverpool, but had lived in the U.S. and Canada for about 30 years. Her name was Sharon Peck. All in all it was a good meal.
Crossing the Delaware River into Pennsylvania
Memories of 1988 Abound
At about 6 pm I packed up and headed for the Delaware Water Gap. Back in 1988 I had walked through a thunderstorm and lightning, crossed the Delaware on a steel walkway bridge and ended up sleeping on the porch of a derelict 100-year-old house. I had showered in the rain behind the house. The waitress Sharon had told me that the house had been renovated and someone now lived there.
As I walked alongside the broad Delaware River, the road hugged rocky dark grey cliffs, topped with verdant trees. I found the pedestrian bridge. It wasn't the one I had used 20years ago so may have been a replacement one.
It was good to clunk my way across and into Pennsylvania. It was now about 8 pm and getting dark. I tried to find the old house that I had slept at. I think I found the house, but it was lit up. I didn't want to disturb the owners, so decided to walk through to the Delaware Water Gap.
Darkness and Rain on Route 611
In the dark I followed Route 611. There was reflected light from the trucks and cars across the Delaware on Route 80. Rain began to fall. Quickly I dived into a carport at the front of what looked like a disused building. As the rain fell the carport was dry. It also looked like a door to the building was open. I was almost tempted to go inside, but going into strange, dark buildings is never a good idea...I've seen enough horror films to know that.
Luckily the rain stopped. Down the dark Route 611 North I walked. The road climbed high above the Delaware.
In the stark black and white of night, the Delaware Water Gap looked like some arty photographer's masterpiece. The tree-covered cliffs and high rounded hills rose steep and high on both sides of the smooth river, which shone silver in reflected lights from the vehicles and lights of I-80.
On route 611 there weren't many cars. I walked on the right hand side of the road. This was dicey as there were fallen branches, huge potholes by drains and sections where the wall at the edge of the road had either been destroyed or collapsed. As Route 611 was a couple of hundred feet above the Delaware it wouldn't have been good to fall down.
Finally, The Town of Delaware Water Gap – and Clean Sheets Again
Eventually, at 11.30 the black road led to twinkling lights of the town of Delaware Water Gap. Loud rock music came from a tall building that looked like a hotel. By this time I was exhausted.
Passing drinkers who were taken aback by my huge pack and walking gear I found the bartender of the Deer's Head Inn. He booked me into room 404. The band stopped playing at midnight. I spent some time writing my blog and about 3 am finally fell asleep between clean white sheets once more.
