Conspiracy

Another day more beautiful than the one before. Is it meteorological reparation for Tuesday’s baptism by deluge? I embrace it for what it is — a gift.

Swiss Motel in Riverhead does not offer breakfast, so that’s my cue to quickly move on. I humbly but emphatically ask the universe today to provide me with a breakfast place that measures up to Judy’s and my weekly Saturday breakfasts out in the West Chester. Inadvertently, I forget to take the GPS suggested turn (a shortcut), and thankfully so, because voilà, there before me is Star Confectionery Luncheonette on Main Street, a well-renovated old drugstore with luncheon counter of yesteryear. The tastefully restored space (with tin ceiling and front counter) evokes a time when life moved more slowly and people gathered to shoot the breeze. Anthony, the owner, is a short-order cook par excellence who knows his art. His home-fries are cooked to perfection. When I tell the waitress, Toni-Ann, about Nathaniel’s story and my pilgrimage, her eyes tear up. Her empathy receptors like mine are well-honed. Two tables down from me a dad enjoys his toddler son. So do I as he beams at me and smiles. And then my tears star to flow. Does this young dad realize how precious the gift next to him is? I do. Breakfast is on the house, and I am grateful for the universe’s gift.

And then I walk — today’s agenda, and yesterday’s and the day before too. Knowing that Judy has already reserved a room for me at the Willow Hill House Bed & Breakfast, I am given the gift to relax for today’s journey to Southold — 21.6 miles. How beautiful everything is around me — the landscape, the little charming towns, the extraordinary day. I pass twelve baby goats who gather and “baa..baa..baa” to me as I go by — that’s Goat for “Buen Camino!”

Tour buses rush by. What’s the attraction? Oh, I’m walking the North Fork Wine Trail with countless vineyards to the right and left of the road. (Do I stop? It’s not even noon yet.) The temptation grows, and by 3:30 I give in when I see a Pinot Noir advertisement at the Duck Walk Vineyards, only a mile from the B & B. What’s the risk? A charming woman at the counter welcomes me in. “Oh no, I’m not here for a 6-glass tasting spree,” I explain. After telling her the reason for my backpack, Conor at the tasting bar offers me the coveted Pinot Noir that originally seduced me, followed by two other varieties so that I can compare and contrast intelligently. I’m all for good research.

After that serious academic work, good luck comes my way again. Gayle and Jack welcome me to their charming B & B. When the universe conspires, it doesn’t hold back, does it? Maybe it does so all the time, but we’re just too busy to notice. Today I notice and am grateful. Namaste!

In my backpack

Today’s walk gets me thinking about what’s in my pack. It always feels heavy in the morning and usually heavier by afternoon. I’m only carrying the essentials–toiletries, high-tech clothing (thanks to REI and Eddie Bauer), a keyboard that connects with my smartphone for blogging (you can’t type on a touch pad), and two special items: a small pouch and Big Chiwawa (not chihuahua, mind you), Nathaniel’s stuffed bear.

Inside the pouch, you’ll find my metaphysical collection. For example, there’s Nan’s Good Fellowship Ambulance Club badge, a folded blue crane for peace, a jade Chinese monkey charm for healing and energy given to me by Eileen L.’s parents, a metal of Mary given to Ginny S. by Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta, John W.’s precious metal from several Chartres labyrinth retreats, a 4-leaf clover for extra good luck sent by Raechel H., a small black rock that will be left at Orient Point this Sunday, and a second small rock, this one gray, with the word “Grace” inscribed on it, destined for Boston Harbor In June. Its match, a smaller gray stone, but this one with the word “Courage,” is now walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain in Chris S.’s pack and it will be left at the foot of the Cruz de Ferro this coming Sunday. A Lincoln penny somehow made it into my collection. It was handed to me by a Shipley student as I passed the human line-up during my visit at the school. So, as you can see, this pouch contains a spiritual powerhouse. No wonder my backpack is weighing me down.

As for Big, well he’s the guest of honor on this pilgrimage. How Nathaniel loved this tan & white Gund Bear. His fur on the right side of his back has been worn down with Nathaniel’s rubbings of love. Big and Little (Carrie’s Gund Bear) have a very close relationship. Little is already well-traveled, but Big stayed close to home like his owner. However,  he did serve Nathaniel faithfully, and even stayed close to him on the day Nathaniel died.

Since then, however, he’s been traveling a little more. Last May he went to Carrie’s college graduation at Earlham, followed by a pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago a week later. He saw his younger cousin Conor graduate from high school in NH  last June, and now is in my backpack honoring his master once again. He’s gotten mad at me only twice since we left Cheyney in April. Being hermetically sealed in a 2-gallon ziplock bag for rain protection is an insult to his strong sense of freedom.

Today I let him peek out of Carrie’s backpack at lunch near a waterfall. Freedom at last! However, he just sighs, grateful to be with me on the Camino de Nathaniel, but he so misses his best friend. But when you’re a faithful bear, you do what you have to do to honor your best friend. And he is.

“I love to go a-wandering”

My apologies to Buddha, but today I’m going to quit the present and recount yesterday. A 27-mile walk can have lots of different chapters to it, and yesterday’s adventure  took no exception. Kat Yeh dropped me off in East Norwich (where she picked me up the afternoon before). I was rested, well-fed, and quite fortified. We parted company with my promising her to call if my only sleep option that night was a “Phillipsburg Inn/Ralph King Size” accommodations.

What a beautiful day it was with no rain in sight. Being thoroughly dry can give a wanderer a whole new perspective. Up and down and around the hills and coves of the North Shore I walked. I saw breath-taking landscape and loving folks on the path. Connie and Shawn at The Gourmet Whaler provided me with an excellent cup of coffee and a small-town, charming cafe ambiance to complement the already picturesque. Further down Route 25A, gentlemen in a fishing store marveled at my journey. “Good luck!” they said.  A woman I met in Kings Port had no hotel suggestions but she did share with me her son’s mental struggles. It became quickly apparent that if I wanted a bed for the night, I would have to leave the scenic route and get closer to the Long Island Expressway. Ugh! With my mileage meter slowly expiring, there still were no hotels in sight. Every time I asked for help, suggestions were “car-distance” based. “But I’m walking!” I reminded them. I almost gave up when I heard in the far distance a childhood melody. It got louder as the source came closer. “Val da ree, Val da rah, Val da ree, Val da rah, ha ha ha ha ha… My knapsack on my back.” The ice cream truck sped by playing repeatedly the “I love to go a-wandering” tune–the very one Lisa Hart (Westtown alumna/Shipley parent) had e-mailed me about a week earlier. Encouragement? I just laughed aloud and kept moving despite the aches and pains.

Billie in The Tile Store on Routes 25/25A offered me an orange, bathroom privileges, Internet Hotel Search on her computer, and even a free taxi ride (if I wanted). I politely but hesitantly declined–only 3.8 miles. It’s not time to succumb (even if she promised me she would not tell).

By 27.5 miles, I was sufficiently damaged, but America’s Best Value Inn (thankfully not dilapidated) appeared before me after nine hours of walking. Time to stop and flop. A late dinner at Carrabba’s in Smithtown revived my spirits, and the waitress Liz and manager Eric offered the meal on the house. Did I look that compromised?

But the miracle of a goodnight sleep always happens. Next day (today), I’m raring to go again, and I do, but this time for only 13 miles to the Marriott Fairfield Inn in Medford. I’m taking no chances. On the way, Dawn, pulling a grocery cart behind her in the town of Ronkonkoma, wishes me god’s blessing. I take it. Sidewalks all the way today–encouragement? it never gets any better than this for a wanderer.

By the way, I crossed the 300-mile marker today. Feeling quite present once again.

Short & Sweet

Hey, folks. A quick glance at today’s walking mileage confirms two points:

1. I’m crossing the Long Island Desert of Hotels (hence the extra distance that was not by choice), and

2. I’m too tired to blog.

Good night.

A Grand Dr. Nez Welcome

Today is both my easiest and hardest walk to date. A pleasant early morning with breakfast with John Scardina on City Island gives me the impression that the day will be easy. John and I reach the appointed rendez-vous spot on Northern Boulevard in Great Neck where others gather for a 1.5 mile walk east to the Bio Behavioral Institute. We start punctually at 10h30 with me in the lead, several banners behind me–visual reminders of the challenges of BDD sufferers. We’re not exactly a crowd but we are a dedicated group of about 10 or more who are letting the on-coming traffic aware of our cause celebre. It’s lightly raining but it’s not yet a real problem. This segment of today’s walk is the easy part–but at the same time it’s the most meaningful. Who knows how our public witness about BDD will change someone’s life.

At Bio Behavioral a larger group gathers in the staff room to listen to Nathaniel’s story. What version will I tell this time? I talk for a good hour and welcome questions. Among us are folks from the local OCD NY Chapter, parents like me who worry about their children and their difficult journey with OCD. In addition, therapists, doctors, and support staff from the clinic complete the company. Their rapt attention lets me know that they care about Nathaniel and his journey with BDD, and wish that he could still be here with us. So do I. Questions follow as we share pizza. In that sense our time together here is a true communion.

By 2:00 I know it’s time for me to hit the road. The hard rain outside makes my exit more difficult. Little do I know that for the next three hours I will be fighting both the unrelenting water element and the crazy traffic. This is the hard part–I can either walk in puddles of water several inches deep on the side of the road (poor drainage) or step closer to the traffic and get completely splashed. Either way, I’m thoroughly soaked. It takes every ounce of energy to keep moving forward against the unforgiving weather. By East Norwich, I’m all done. Kat Yeh comes to the rescue with dry towels and a warm car with heated seats, and her Florence Nightingale spirit. I gladly welcome a dry evening at the Russell Yeh Family in Lloyd Harbor–gracious hosts after a rich but very difficult day.