I meant to go for a bike ride today, but by the time I had time to myself, I was more in the mood for a slow amble. I walked right toward the ocean–is there another direction out here?–and took a right on the main drag for a stop at the post office to drop some postcards in the mail to M., S., and N., who rang me from her amble at just that moment. We swapped stories from our ambles, agreed it was The Greatest Day in the History of the World, and then parted phone ways to continue our respective walks. Mine took me to the fence blocking off the beach where the lumber mill used to be. There are still piles of lumber and reminders that work used to be done here, but now it is all NO TRESPASSING and that alone made the homes lining it a different world from the mansions just up the road; even paradise finds itself structurally adjusted. And then I found the entrance to the state park, and oh my, look at it. I walked, I sat, I listened, I waded, I waited, and then it was time to head back. I took my time walking along Highway 1, past the boarded-up bed and breakfasts and the gas stations and restaurants and the other attempts to figure out what to do to make this a place to make a living after the mill closed. I stopped for a fancy coffee, stopped in the store that sells only socks–I wonder how that’s going to turn out–tried on some ridiculously expensive shoes, and picked up an album for N.–don’t tell–and then it was dinner with friends and a walk back to E. and S.’s for wine, brownies, and baseball, just like the old days, another vacation win, much to think about, just like I like it.
I am having a most wonderful vacation in NYC, in spite of having to *gasp* walk. This town is made to bike, and there is a ridiculously fantastic bicycle infrastructure here. Sharrows! Buffered bike lanes! Bicycles, bicycles everywhere. I want to move back here with my bicycles and bike every last one of these lanes. Today, though, I rented a bike and was just happy to get to pedal a bit and let my feet and legs rest. I am in great biking shape. Walking? Not so much. I rode around Governor’s Island, learning some history and dodging a zillion bicyclists and walkers and Civil War reenactors (not Rebs, like they’d be back home, but just as weird). The sun was bright and all was right with the world. I snapped this picture of overgrown weeds in front of some abandoned Coast Guard housing. Right across from here are views of the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan and all kinds of big city views of a fantastical nature, but this is the view that reminded me of home. Oh, I am most pleased to be living here and there, now.