Walking Distance / Jaime Ambrosio

Back when I was in high school (in New Rochelle, NY) my friends and I always used to talk about how awesome it would be to hop on Boston Post Road (US Route 1) and drive all the way up to Boston. I'm not really sure why we thought it was so cool, the idea that one road (especially one so small and beautiful at parts) could take us so very far, New York to Boston, was just infinitely appealing. It seemed unreal, even bazaar. The funny thing is, it's really not that crazy. Route 1 is known as America's Highway, and the King's Highway, it was the path Paul Revere took and the road that carried soldiers in the Civil War. It's the road that people used before the big Interstates were around. Of course it can take you across state lines. All novelty (or lack there of) aside, it was a dream of ours that took deep roots in me. I once started to drive up Route 1 with a friend when I was 16, though we only got as far as Westport before deciding to turn around and take I-95 back home.

The trip I'm writing about has nothing to do with driving up the Boston Post Road, so why the lengthy introduction? My best friend Kristen and I decided to walk that very same route from New Rochelle to Boston. We really only spent about an hour planning our stops (we figured it was best to book hotels before setting out) and creating a packing list that would minimize the weight of our packs. We ended up with a 12-day tour averaging 19 miles per day. Sounds easy, right?

I knew our feet were going to be sore, I knew our legs were going to cramp...really I did. But oh my gosh, a shadeless 2 mile long bridge at the end of a 23 mile day can introduce you to a unforeseen level of self inflicted pain. Every day when we walked into a hotel I felt like I couldn't take another step, not even for a million dollars. That is until I realized we were put in a room where the previous inhabitant smoked like a chimney, or the shower didn't work, or the two of us were expected to share a twin-sized bed, and I found that I was, in fact, able to walk back down the stairs and sort out the issue of the day.

Although this was one of the most strenuous things I've ever done, I was surprised by how rewarding it was. I predicted I would feel accomplished, I expected revel in the solitude of it all, but I did not, however, foresee how much I would appreciate my interactions with strangers along the journey. There is nothing that sparks a conversation like two absurdly sweaty girls in large backpacks trotting along Route 1. I'm not sure if I've just been living in NY for too long or what, but at some point I forgot that people, at their core, sans pretenses, are generally good. Almost everyday we met at least one person that really touched me. I don't feel the need to recount every encounter, though there are a couple worth mentioning.

In Branford we stopped at this family owned deli and were introduced to the entire family, including in-laws and boyfriends! The father sat with us for about 20 minutes discussing the route and warning us about any potential trouble areas. He also spent time telling us tales of his travels of the "back when I was your age" variety. My favorite was one where he removed the back seats in his car, replaced them with a mattress, and drove across country with one of his buddies for a month. The whole family regarded us with such awe and respect, and their support was really comforting.

One man we met in a Dunkin Donuts just south of Bridgeport stopped with his son and spoke to us for a while. When he understood what we were doing he felt the need to truly discuss how dangerous the road through Bridgeport was. He told us he had a 14-year old daughter and could not in good conscience allow us to walk through that area. His words were saturated with sincerity and genuine concern for our safety. He insisted on giving us a ride through the bad area and even waited until we got our room before leaving (after walking through New Haven I am really glad we got this ride, it is a bit unnerving walking through an unfamiliar dangerous neighborhood with only one other girl).

In Groton and Sharon, multiple people who were out on their lawns offered to run inside to grab us some water. Many women stopped to pull over and make sure we were okay because they knew how scary it is to hitchhike as a female. Half of the people we walked by on the street stopped to talk with us and wish us luck and a safe trip. Countless people honked and shouted their support from passing cars. The best support came from the waitresses and waiters that we met, so many of them offered to fill out water bottles with ice and cold water, which I cannot begin to explain the value of.

It is really hard to explain it, but the best part of the trip came from the unmistakable excited facial expression of a person we just divulged out plan to. I never tired of seeing their eyes light up in disbelief, followed by excitement, and then the small tinge of jealousy because they couldn't drop their life and jump on with us. The best part came from getting unwavering support from complete strangers to accomplish a goal that no sane person would ever have. The best part was being reminded that when all daily concerns and confrontations are removed, when any faֳ§ade has been thrown out the window, people are good, people are supportive, and, in general, people want to have a positive influence on each other's lives. It was a glorious understanding to achieve.

I think I would definitely do a similar trip again. I would certainly change a few things, (no more than 15 miles each day and allow time for a day off every so often to explore), but the process of arriving at a desired destination solely by walking was a very positive one for me. I would recommend it as a great way to really observe the scenery of an area and an even better way to sample the flavor of the people. I would call this adventure an absolute success!