ROAD TRIP
As I write, David and I are in the midst of an adventure. We are on a road trip through the Finger Lakes of New York and into southern Canada. The leaves are beginning to change color, and it’s a beautiful time of year. We’re also aware that our bodies may not be able to do a trip like this again, so we are experimenting in pacing and guiding ourselves rather than being on a tour. We have a loose itinerary based on recommendations from our Canadian friends who lived in this area and have been telling us how special this part of the country is for them.
We have not done a road trip in years, and it is bringing back memories of one I did years ago with my parents and my little brother, who is no longer so little. My father was the driver, and my mother would give him directions, which would create contention. Bob, my brother, and I would be in the backseat, tuning them out by looking out the windows and passing the time by playing an alphabet game. We challenged each other to see who would be the first to complete the alphabet using letters from the licenses of cars on the road.
Traveling with David to some of the same places I visited over seventy years ago en route to visiting my mother’s hometown in upper New York state brings back memories and highlights some of the changes that occur with time and aging. I sit in the front of the car now, not the backseat behind my mother.
There is no arguing, and we have a GPS on our phones rather than a map that my mother and father would interpret differently. As David and I travel, the countryside looks familiar, and some memories of walking along the gorge in Watkins Glen with my parents returned, so I was curious to see how it would be in the present day.
Watkins Glen is a gorge carved out over eons. Time is physically apparent in the layers of rock comprising the sides of the gorge, which represent different time periods and the effect of erosion. The gorge seemed longer and bigger than I remembered. I wondered if I walked through the entire gorge or just a portion with my parents. I remember being impressed by the gorges depth and narrowness. This has not changed, but as I walked through it at the age of 82, I’m certainly changed, and I’m probably much older than my parents were at the time. My body, like the stone, shows wear and tear, and my perception of time is quite different than it was as a child. Time seemed infinite back then, and now I am very aware that it is very precious and mine is nearing its end. I also didn’t worry about mobility or need walking sticks.
David and I parked our car at the upper gorge so we could go down it rather than climb up. As we walked through, we saw all the different layers of rock created by time and erosion. The top portion of the path was made up of shale, which is hardened clay, silt, and mud. The surface was uneven and ancient, carved by the river far below when the path was the river bottom. The pathway was wet and filled with puddles of water and newly fallen leaves from the trees high above. Those of us walking down from the top were met by people walking up. We were told the pathway had 800 steps, and I was glad that we started at the top and were working our way down. It was fascinating to see the varieties of people and how they moved either up or down along the path. I especially appreciated the children who were able to run with ease, free of fear, some holding onto their parents’ hands, others running nimbly by. Using my walking poles, I had to be very careful with the placement of the poles and my feet. It was an act of concentration and wonder; wonder about the forces of nature and the power to both destroy and create, and also wonder that I was still able to navigate this narrow gorge with safety and trust in my ability to do so. One woman on her way up as we were walking down looked at me, my age, and the walking poles and said, “You’re courageous.” I didn’t feel courageous, but I was aware of the need to be very cautious. I walked down from the top of the gorge, staying closer to the cliff wall rather than the edge of the path that overlooked the gorge. On passages that were particularly narrow and slippery, I held onto David’s hand. I didn’t realize that he was being careful too, and it wasn’t automatically easy for him either. There were waterfalls along the way, which were quite dramatic, and we stopped to admire them and take some photos. The very bottom portion of the trail detoured from the natural one, which was unsafe and made of wooden boards filled in by gravel and mud. They looked deceptively easy, but I found them even more difficult than what nature had created. We made it down, waited for the shuttle to take us back up to the top of the gorge where we had left our car, and on we went to treat ourselves to a good lunch.
David and I have a loose itinerary based on suggestions, but we have no idea what each day will bring. We have been staying at a different place each night, and that is as interesting as some of the natural wonders that we’ve been seeing. Last night we were in a B&B, which is an old Victorian house built in 1885. As we arrived at night and fumbled our way to the door, one of the guests saw us and led us in. This was his third night staying there, and he knew how hard it was to find the entryway. It was an act of kindness. Then, noting our grey hair and fatigue, he took our suitcases and brought them upstairs. I don’t like thinking of myself as old, but I am old, and kindness and compassion bring not only gratitude but also ease to body and mind.
Traveling for me is not only about the place we visit but also the people we meet. We are by Niagara Falls today on the Canadian side, and I really wanted to see the falls but wasn’t sure what would be the best way. Our server at breakfast told us about her dad taking people on a journey behind the falls. We followed her advice and went into a man-made tunnel behind Horseshoe Falls. We dropped down 130 feet in an elevator crowded with people speaking different languages, all tourists like us. A young man who was the elevator guide let us out and said, “Go to the right, and you’ll stay dry. Go to the left, and put on your poncho so you won’t get wet.” We did both and got sprayed with mist and heard, saw, and felt the power of the water. It was mesmerizing to stand on a platform by the side of the falls and take in its power…and know that it was formed about 12,500 years ago and through erosion retreats back about one foot a year.
I can’t measure ways in which I have retreated and accommodated to an aging body, but my wonder about nature and life itself has not abated. I’m grateful that I have a husband to share this with and that my body, even though it’s slowed down, is able to go to new places and freshly discover wonder.
WATKINS GLEN