An a-bridged adventure with Deb

To borrow from the educational placard displayed on a giant rock tucked unobtrusively in a secluded private park ("I'm not sure your descriptors are altogether accurate as the park's entrance falls directly between the hotel and a liquor store," my friend Deb said gently, in an attempt to clarify.), two youthfully middle-aged women undertook a series of adventures...they had restless natures and a deep interest in the nature sciences. "Do you want some bug spray?" Deb asked as we parked. "I forgot to pack snacks," I said dismally, wondering if such negligence warranted postponing the trip. 

As Deb extolled the many virtues of this visit...physical exercise, nature, fellowship, education...I agonized about revealing even more of my character flaws to my patient friend. As we perused the history of John Wesley Powell, a figure so impressive that we must commemorate his achievements on a ROCK with no less than five paragraphs and the same number of photographs. I'd never even heard of the guy but I was so consumed with jealousy regarding his biographical achievements that I indulged in a bit of interpretive reading:  "It says here that he went to college for seven years but never attained his degree," I pointed out petulantly. Deb squinted and leaned in closer to the giant rock. "It says he was teaching there...I'm not sure how much importance they placed on the degree." I then directed her attention to his evident disharmonious family-life. "He pursued study against his father's wishes," I sniffed. How disrespectful. 

Realizing that I was acting out as a result of some inner conflict (low self-esteem, lack of confidence, self-loathing and the shocking self-realization that I have achieved nothing of significance  beyond spending 5/8s of my life watching sitcom re-runs), Deb attempted to distract me by drawing my attention away from the rock and to the route leading to our little hike. I brightened a bit! "Look! A bench!" Relieved that her ruse worked, Deb assured me that there were plenty of benches along the way. "Let's review them all," I shouted, racing to the first one, "We'll rate them on a Four-Splinter Scale." 

Our little alcoved arboretum ("It's mostly a parking lot to a little kayak launch site," Deb attempted to clarify. "Although," she admitted, "it is landscaped nicely."  was tucked sweetly between the gentle Genesee River and a bouldered barricade. "That's a retaining wall providing the boundary line of the asphalt plant," she informed me. I let out an abbreviated sigh of relief as I had been taking measured, economical breaths since we parked the car. "Is that why I smell oil?" I asked, comforted that the smell wasn't emanating from the river. 

Armed with Deb's impressive walking stick that I am certain she purchased from the Shire, we departed from our delightful little park ("Finally," muttered Deb, wondering if she would be using the stick as a walking aide or a shepherd's crook to prod me along) to our goal...a pedestrian bridge crossing the Genesee River. Fortunately, that's where we encountered another bench! In retrospect, it turns out, organization-wise, that my ignoring Deb's worry that it would look like I was flashing gang signals, my holding up the ordinal numbers associated with each bench was very helpful! Bench No. 3 slipped a bit on the scale due to some weathered wood on the back rest. It featured lovely metal arm rests though and was nice and roomy. We rated Bench No. 3 a 2 on the Splinter Scale. Benches No. 1 and No. 2 were well-manufactured and maintained but both faced in on the pavilion rather than focusing on the obvious landmark more worthy of restful meditative inspection; the river, so we assigned a rating of 3 on the Splinter Scale. 

You wouldn't have known it by listening to us (me) but we loved
the bridge. It was wide ("Why is it so wide?" I complained, sensing an unnecessary wasting of my tax dollars in the air). You crossed a river which is ALWAYS delightful (but you can also cross the river using that roadside sidewalk over there that I can throw a stone to...a challenge that Deb immediately called me on...sadly, there were no rocks available. "I bet there's a rock over there on the road," I predicted.). "Why did they build this?" I groused, having a wonderful time walking, waltzing, skipping, and singing on the bridge. Later investigation revealed, to our great relief, that the 1.7 million dollars spent to construct an uninterrupted continuation of the Greenway Trial  to avoid the danger of walking/biking on the dangerous streets of Mount Morris was provided by the American Recovery and Investment Act. See...no tax dollars involv-...

Oh! And it's wide to allow emergency vehicle access (in case they can't use the road a stone's throw away). I was particularly excited to learn about the $80 gold nut with a GIANT wrench that were used to commemorate the coming together of the two pieces that comprised the constructed bridge...think Transcontinental Railroad. I almost called Deb later to demand we visit again to view the gold nut but apparently it was only used ceremonially. But where is the nut now? "Do you really want me to answer that?" asked my friend. 

And if we weren't already having the time of our lives on the bridge (an experience that actually exceeded my expectations...my goal was just to walk over it...not question, research, investigate, and conduct philosophical musings about it), we noticed several locks attached to the slender railing cables. I was more than happy to obnoxiously inform Deb that this is a traditional throw-back to the famed Lock Bridge (Pont des Arts) in Paris where committed couples perform a ritual symbolizing their relationship...attaching the lock permanently to the structure and then, together, flinging the key into the Seine to permanently pollute the water. As we took note of the many locks, I suddenly noticed, upriver, a heron in the distance, standing along the riverbank. I, of course, pointed this out to my friend so as to fulfill the nature-appreciating part of our journey. "What is that in front of it?" she wondered, as we squinted solemnly together. "Is it a stump with a cup on it or an eagle?" This was surely a situation worthy of speculation. We stood, as statues, staring up-river. "Why didn't we bring binoculars?" Deb lamented. "And snacks," I added sadly. Our patience paid off as "the stump" eventually shook out his feathers. 

It was time to "get over" our infatuation with this bridge and move on. The remainder of the trail was lovely...shaded, pest-free, with mostly grass-covered cushioning for our feet. Deb used her stick to swipe forest debris from the path and occasionally twirling it like a drum majorette. Our final "official" bench was a Cadillac...a sprawling seat, ample arm-rests, composed of durable composite lumber. Had it been positioned subtly beneath the welcoming shade of a nearby tree rather than exposing us to the inescapable skin-shriveling rays of the sun, this bench came closest to a perfect 4 out of 4 on the Splinter Scale.  (Pause for topic-related joke:  How do outer-space aliens rate our galaxy? One star!) "How far did we walk?" I asked, estimating a reasonable two miles. "Ehh...more around one...if we round up generously," Deb countered, relaxing on the bench, soaking up the sun while I sweated and scanned my surroundings for snacking opportunities. "Wow! Four benches in a one mile rotation! That's amazing! Maybe we could become hiking influencers targeting an audience of reluctant walkers. We could include in our rating-scale the number of and quality of benches, accessibility to restroom facilities, and snack opportunities. Deb stared at me in obvious wonder. "I can't imagine why we don't walk together more."

We walked the dangerous streets of Mount Morris back to our vehicle and even managed to cross successfully to the opposite side...this despite one biking blogger, who in reviewing her trip through this section of the Greenway Trail, warned her readers that New York is "no New Jersey"...(I have no need to state bash...I have very pleasant memories of a hippo named Buttons who happily inhabits the Philadelphia Aquarium, located, oddly enough, in New Jersey). Apparently in New Jersey, state residents stop for bicycles while this blogger prepares her audience that no such courtesy is granted here. "In New York," she wrote, " you can wait 5 minutes for all the cars to stop streaking by  ("in Mount Morris, posted speed limit 30 miles per hour" Amy inserted with agitation and disbelief) (or hope a non-local stops for you!" ). (I will not share my opinion about her implication here...she obviously has so many friends that she thinks nothing about criticizing an entire town/state...no judgement...I have been pretty harsh myself with Connecticut, California, and Texas but, c'mon...they stole my children from me!) 

So, anyway, as we (cautiously) walked, I was enthusiastically willing to broaden my "bench scale" to include all sitting opportunities as I didn't wish to discriminate. "Those are for sale," Deb said about the lawn chairs outside the hardware store. "Display," she dismissed as she wrestled me out of an Amish buggy. "Bedbugs," she warned as I eyed up a mattress leaning against a tree. We made it back to our palatial park and decided to conclude our adventure in a manner befitting the spirit of John Wesley Powell. As he spent four months walking across Wisconsin...some might say lolly-gagging...I mean, really...how big IS that state...so did we, spend two hours walking about a mile (We looked at that stump a LONG time).  He rowed (a lot) the Mississippi from Minnesota to the sea, the Ohio from Pittsburgh to the Mississippi, ect.ect.ect...as we ventured down to the kayak launch and discussed water travel. His exploration of the Colorado and the Grand Canyon is vast and he is among the first non-indigenous people to summit Long's Peak...which means he was probably lucky number 1,471 of over-all "peakers" up to that point. So too, did Deb and I venture out of familiar territory to:

Dunkin' Donuts! Hence fulfilling both our sitting AND snacking requirements! With an adjacent bathroom facility (deemed "sparkling clean" by a sign on the wall), Dunkin' Donuts received a 4 out of 4 on our Splinter Scale! Well...wait. Let me amend that. We missed out on the AMAZING opportunity for fireplace-adjacent seating because a hidden figure, unseen except by their sneakers perched against the table littered by a PIZZA BOX, poached our place and loitered way too long. For this reason, Dunkin' Donuts rated a 3.5 Splinter Rating. 

As for the "sparkling clean" restroom...were it capable of asking me for review on a scale of 1-10, I would cheekily respond, "You're an eight!"

"I can't imagine why we don't walk together more," Deb mused.