It is true. I had a blog prior to this one. I had high hopes of writing every day about my hiking adventures, getting discovered by some travel company and then writing some more about my hiking adventures all the while by getting paid for my words and life experience. I believe I made it three entries in- all without any stories about stormy alpine summits on so-and-so mountain. Thank you very much procrastination!
I was in the midst of writing about (at the time) the most recent mountain adventure I undertook when something distracted me. I had hit "save now" and attended to said distraction (a pretty leaf outside, the prospect of making a new cup of tea or hot chocolate perhaps?) and that lasted for three years. I was very excited about retelling this story...mostly because when returning from said trip friends, family, strangers all said "you should write or blog about this! This is a ridiculous story!" when I told them about what had happened during those four days in April of 2009. And so without further ado I shall begin now to tell you about a trip I took once...
The Adventure of a Lifetime or The Adventure Your Mother Always Warned You About
or put more simply
How We Almost Blew Ourselves Up in Philadelphia
****
It was already after 2 p.m.
I was in the midst of writing about (at the time) the most recent mountain adventure I undertook when something distracted me. I had hit "save now" and attended to said distraction (a pretty leaf outside, the prospect of making a new cup of tea or hot chocolate perhaps?) and that lasted for three years. I was very excited about retelling this story...mostly because when returning from said trip friends, family, strangers all said "you should write or blog about this! This is a ridiculous story!" when I told them about what had happened during those four days in April of 2009. And so without further ado I shall begin now to tell you about a trip I took once...
The Adventure of a Lifetime or The Adventure Your Mother Always Warned You About
or put more simply
How We Almost Blew Ourselves Up in Philadelphia
PART ONE:
In Which Google Has Proved to Be Inaccurate and The Discovery of The Real Dobb's Road
Danny, my long-term hiking companion and overall mutual mischief maker, had decided that it had been long overdue on adventure-making. It had been many months in between our last hiking voyage...just long enough for us to forget the torture we had last put ourselves through. It was right after Tax Day and right before Earth Day. We also had just purchased tickets to go backpacking in New Zealand for two months for the following Fall. We wanted to celebrate and add a different region of places-traveled to our list. We needed to celebrate. We were getting tired of the Catskills and the Adirondacks.
"What about Delaware?" I suggested.
"Um, I don't think there are any mountains in Delaware..."
"Well, no but there could be something interesting to do there. I mean, who goes to Delaware? It could be fun. There's always fun somewhere. I'll google it."
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing that proved to be eventful in Delaware.
"Are you kidding me? How can there be nothing interesting?!" I was shocked.
"NEXT!"
We looked at a map.
"Ooh," I said. "How about camping on the beach in North Carolina?"
"Too far."
"What if I drive and never stop? I can do it. I swear."
"Is there time?"
"If I drive and never stop...maybe? We took a few days off. It could work."
"Hmm, maybe."
We googled options for beach camping on the coast. There were too many legal fiascoes and permits to undertake.
"Why is camping on the beach so difficult?!" I exclaimed.
"How about Virginia?"
"Virginia?"
"Let's go to Shenandoah National Park!" Danny zoomed in on the map to Virginia.
"Blue Ridge Mountains?"
"Blue People?"
"No, I think those are in Tennessee?"
"Ozarks?"
"Maybe?"
We researched some of the popular extended hiking trails in the area. We landed on Old Rag Mountain. Danny and I had a terrible way of gauging our hiking capabilities against the quick facts of a trail of a mountain.
"Oh!" Danny said. "The summit is only 3,291 feet."
"Really? Mount Marcy was 5,344. So how easy is it? How long does it take?"
"It says there is a rock scramble to the top."
"We've done that before. I mean, Mount Marcy was terrible but we've done other hikes since then. We're more prepared now. I think I'm more in shape than last year."
I wasn't.
"Well, we can climb to the summit and instead of connecting to the fire road back to the car we can just continue. It'll take longer and a few more days," said Danny.
"Oh! That sounds like fun! Let's do that! It'll be good practice for New Zealand."
"Yeah! What time do you want to leave?"
"Google Maps says it should take about 6 1/2 hours. I have work in the morning but we could leave early in the afternoon and still get there before sundown."
"It'll be good to get there when there is still light to set up camp."
"We'll have plenty of time," I said nonchalantly.
It was April 16, 2009. Wednesday. Noon.
Danny and I wanted to pack together so we could easily disperse the load, although in hindsight I’m not sure why we just didn’t throw everything in the car immediately and take care of the dispersing at the campsite…but I’m sure we had our “sound” reasons.
We put off the packing and instead went shopping for food supplies. We purchased the typical normal camping foods: nuts, chocolate, energy bars, hot chocolate mix, tea, macaroni, and oatmeal.
We packed our bags and collected our gear.
It was already after 2 p.m.
“Great!” Danny said excitedly. “Let’s go!”
“I just have to do one more thing…”
At the last minute I had remembered carpet cleaners were coming over the weekend and I was given a task to remove anything and everything off from my bedroom floor and onto my bed. Now, this wouldn’t have been a big deal for a normal and organized human being but I had recently (three years+) fallen into the terrible trap of hoarding. I had an embarrassingly large amount of art, animal, travel, political and backpacking magazines that I swore I’d read one day. I had a maze of thousands upon thousands of photographs from the last three years of my own life and the whole photographic journey of my family that I promised to organize and archive. I had at least three guitars, a couple of keyboards and a children’s xylophone as well as some other treasures like a whole aisle’s worth of throw-away books from the local library and board games even the original owner didn’t want any more and handed off to me at a garage sale. In other words…I had a lot of stuff. And my room was not very large.
I couldn’t just throw all of my ‘precious’ belongings haphazardly onto my bed. There had to be a process. This had to be thought out as an architect would. I had to make this fit correctly. I grabbed some industrial sized garbage bags and organized the magazines by current relevance, the photographs by year so as to not confuse the order I had originally set them aside as before I took my epic organizational hiatus. It took a couple of tries but eventually we managed to fit all non-fragile and delicate material from the last three years on top of my bed. The amount of rubbish almost reached the ceiling.
“Okay! All done! Let’s go!” I chirped.
It was approaching 5 p.m.
Danny was not smiling. “Crystal, it’s 5 o’clock!”
“Which means we’ll bypass the traffic by going West!”
“It’s going to get dark soon.”
“We can set up camp in the dark. We have flashlights.”
He groaned. “Okay, okay. Let’s go. I’ll drive first. You're a mess driving through the city.”
"Not going to argue that."
We hopped in the car. We were welcomed with traffic. I attempted to play up the charm-factor as a way to apologize to Danny for taking so long with getting onto the road. I had made a new batch of specialized mix CD’s for our journey.
"I HAVE NEW MIX CD'S!" I screamed. "I THINK YOU WILL REALLY ENJOY THEM!" I cautiously stole a glance at Danny to see if he expressed any interest in listening to the CD's I spent hours crafting.
"They're themed!" I said proudly. As if it took a genius to figure out how to pick specialized songs related to highways or road trips and burn them to a disk. I recited the CD titles hoping they would put a smile on his face.
"Okay! We have the "Life is a Highway/Riding in My Car: TO VIRGINIA FROM NEW YORK mix CD," the "Take Me Home Country Road! The Highway Mix" and the "The Greatest American Idol Mix! Virginia Mix-Down! (Adam Lambert Forever) (YOU ARE THE AMERICAN IDOL)"
"Ooh. Let's listen to the American Idol one."
"I thought you'd pick that one first."
After an hour of screaming along to ridiculous renditions of various Michael Jackson tunes we popped in the "Riding in my Car" mix which consisted of random mp3's (thanks internet!) that involved the words "highway," "road" or "car." Needless to say there were quite a few gems. The first track however was not "underground" by any means but as hokey as it could ever be on a road trip. Tom Cochrane's "Life is a Highway." An obvious choice.
"You know I hate this song, right?"
"You do?!"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It reminds me of when I was abroad with Contiki. They played it on the bus every morning and every evening."
"...oh. I'm sorry..."
"I CAN'T STAND THIS SONG! NEXT TRACK. NEXT. TRACK!"
Some of the songs on my mix CD weren't even songs I particularly enjoyed but I really enjoyed the time I spent in finding these songs.
- Ride in my Car by The Woodsmen
- Crossroads by Texas Lewis Slim
- Riding in Your Car by Elephant Parade
- Get in the Car & Drive by Blu Sanders
- In the Car by Dealership
- Hit the Road Jack by Texas Lewis Slim
- In My Car by The Pack (quite possibly the greatest find of 2009: see above video)
- Lost in My Car by The Farmers
- Standing in the Death Car by Standing
- Jump in My Car by Slow Motion
- Always Crashing in the Same Car by David Bowie
- Jump in My Car by IEACIA
- In Your Car by Ian Mykel
- You and Me in a Rented Car, Two Small Bags and a Plastic Guitar by Utah Rangers
- Sleeping in My Car by Roxette
- Captain Abu Raed, in the Fog by Austin Wintory
- In the Death Car by Iggy Pop (All 17.23 minutes...did not go over well...)
When it comes to pleasing an on-the-fence driver I found that effort or symbolism does not mean as much as it does to the creator. Drivers just want and need interesting songs in order to better pass the time. More importantly they require songs they know so they can sing along.
The next mix CD consisted of seven different versions of "Take me Home, Country Roads" originally by John Denver. Everything from robotic, dance, reggae, punk, electronic and so on...I tracked it down and I had it. All. If Danny didn't know the song before he was sure as heck going to know it now. Mountain Mama all right.
It was approaching 10 p.m.
We stopped at a rest-stop in Maryland to find some food. Inside there was a closed Welcome Center, a Quiznos, a Starbucks, Burger King, and a 'High-End' food-mart.
"I think the only food you're going to find is at Quiznos," I said to Danny. "They have a Veggie Sandwich."
We approached the balding middle-aged man behind the Quiznos counter. He pointed to the left side of the counter where there were three options.
"Your options for this evening are those three," he said to us.
Option One: The Meat Sandwich
Option Two: The Italian Meat Sandwich
Option Three: The 'low-carb' Meat Sandwich
"Are you saying we can only order from those three options?" Danny asked.
Quiznos man just pointed to the left of the counter and yawned.
"So, does that mean we can't order the Veggie Sandwich on the right?"
"No Veggie! ONLY from the left."
"But could you just make a sandwich of vegetables? I can't eat meat."
"It's too late," he pointed again to the left. "Your options..."
"Can I order the meat sandwich without the meat and substitute vegetables instead?"
"No."
"Really?!"
"Yes."
We backed away slowly from the counter and wandered into the 'High-End' food mart and opted for packaged fruit and cheese cubes for dinner instead. Above the double-door exit of the rest-stop two signs hung. On the right side a sign read "South-Virginia" and on the left "North to DC." I pushed Danny quickly from the left side over to the right, shoving him into the wall.
"What is wrong with you!"
"You almost walked through the wrong side!"
"What?!"
I pointed to the signs above the door. He laughed.
"You're fucking crazy."
"THERE'S A REASON THAT SIGN IS THERE," I yelled out after him.
Danny had left the car lights running. I relieved him of his diligent driving duties and we carried on our way. When we approached Virginia and sidelined off from the main highway to the 'country/county' roads we noticed subtle differences in how Virginia and Long Island handle their informative road signs. Put simply: Long Island seems to have a street sign everywhere you look whereas Virginia had none.
"Are you sure this is 231?" I asked Danny.
"It should be."
"What's the next step?"
"Right on 707. Sharp Rock Road."
"SHARP ROCK ROAD?"
"That's the name."
"Oh, jeez. When?"
"Less than a mile."
The small four lane road was deserted except for the occasional gas station. The only other source of light on the road came from the red stop light every mile and a half or so. Occasionally a street sign would pop up but it only would list the cross street never indicating what street we were actually driving on.
"How can they not have a sign saying what street this is?" I grumbled. "I guess they figured if you got yourself here you should know the area and the street names."
"I think it's been over a mile..."
"But I didn't see the turn. Should I turn around?"
"Let's go a little further and then we can turn around."
We drove a bit further and there was never any turn off for 707. We turned around and luckily spotted the hidden street sign for our turn off.
It was past Midnight.
It was past Midnight.
"We found it!" we cheered.
"Now what?" I asked Danny.
"Okay! Now we need State Road 600 and then Weakly Hollow Road."
"Easy enough."
We drove onwards onto the paved road. It winded deep into the dark woods and around quiet little farm houses. The road quickly turned into a restricted one way dirt path.
"Where are we?!" Danny laughed.
"Should I keep going?"
"Where else are we going to go?!"
We turned off the music and followed the road into the dark. It was quiet.
"This is Dobb's Road." That was always Danny's way of saying 'This is a road where serial killers live and attack their victims.'
"Oh hush," I laughed. "This ain't no Dobb's Road. Look I see a turn up ahead."
We drove and I turned. The road carried on in either direction but a large wooden sign was posted off to the right.
"What the..."
I pulled over and read the sign.
"You've got to be kidding me," Danny said.
I grabbed my flashlight, opened my car door and stepped outside. It was approaching at most 35 degrees Fahrenheit. I could see my laughter as water vapor in the air.
"I am not leaving this car," Danny poked his head out of the window.
"Seriously?"
"Yes. DOBB'S. ROAD, CRYSTAL" Danny screamed. "I told you this was Dobb's Road."
"This is a trap set by the man who owns Dobb's Road!"
