Location: Huntington, WV

Car Mileage: 243,073

Trip Mileage: 32,782

Since my last blog published in Des Moines, Iowa, I’ve had the chance to scratch plenty of states off of my map. Let’s start with the parks though. Between Des Moines and Huntington, WV, I managed to visit St. Louis’ Gateway Arch National Park, Indiana Dunes National Park, Cuyahoga Valley National Park, and Mammoth Cave National Park. 

Have you ever wondered who St. Louis was and why the Gateway to the West is named after him? Neither did I until I started writing this and needed a controversial introduction. King Louis IX of France was canonized as a Saint for his role in the Crusades, which as fun as those were, have aged rather poorly. The Catholic Church made a rare oopsie by overlooking how Louis forced French Jews to wear a badge of shame. Who among us hasn’t made a mistake. My five minutes wading through Louis’ Wikipedia page may have shown his scars, but you know what has aged even more poorly than Saint Louis? That would be St. Louis’ own Gateway Arch. More specifically, the 2018 bill that deemed the Gateway Arch a National Park. 

Now when I was in Indiana standing on their National Park dunes, with the tide of Lake Erie pushing garbage further up the shore, I looked upon the factory smokestacks 1,000 yards away and wondered how this stretch of land received the same designation as Zion NP and Denali NP. However, it turns out they secured the designation to prevent factories and pollution from taking up even more space.

 

Cuyahoga Valley NP had a similar origin. The Cuyahoga River became so polluted that it actually caught on fire thirteen times. In effort to protect the river, the state campaigned to make the area a National Park. The park may not have the awe of the Grand Canyon, but it has a strong case of preservation to be included among the National Park list. 

St. Louis on the other hand has no excuse. Every other state and park can take a deep sigh of relief knowing that the Gateway Arch has firmly secured the title of worst National Park in America. The Arch is not without its pros. Heck, is it beautiful to look upon against a sunset or the skyline. It has a very in-depth museum beneath it. You can even take an elevator to the top for a mildly thrilling view. None of these attributes contribute an ounce of weight into making this a National Park. There is no excuse. A “National Monument” designation exists for a reason. Anyways, that is my rant that has been brewing inside me for nearly two months. 

Mammoth Cave felt the most like a National Park compared to Indiana Dunes, Cuyahoga, and Gateway Arch. This is the longest cave system in the world, so it has an obvious natural wonder to boast. They are continuously uncovering new sections of cave, but they’ve yet to find mammoth remains, which feels like false advertising. 

Waiting for me at the end of these parks was West Virginia, which brought back into my life friends, family, unprocessed food, shower stability, television, “dinner time”, board games, proper hydration, a home shaped less like a car, and a bed shaped less like the trunk of a car. I hadn’t been laden with time and stability in quite some time, and I indulged, maybe even overindulged in all of these pleasures.  

The idea of me being cut off from the world while on the road might be overexaggerated in your mental picture. In many ways my trip took me off the grid. But more accurately I was a first world nomad, and I still held my phone first thing everyday. My phone was my map, my alarm, my camera, my entertainment, my jukebox, and my lifeline, just like it is for the rest of the world.

It’s actually a bummer of a realization that I can drive to the Arctic Ocean, 500 miles away from the nearest city, but I can’t part with my phone. I don’t want to either, because how else would I snap the photo of a Grizzly Bear, google tire valves, find campsites, and learn about King Louis IX?  

There are moments I am disappointed in myself for not spending more time with my thoughts, music off, on that road trip. After spending a few weeks at home with all the lavish delicacies, it became clear that the iPhone dependence is nothing compared to the things that devour our time in the normal rhythm of life. I was losing whole days in front of the TV in September. The habits I thought to be lifestyle changes on the road were gone, washed away in the high-end water pressure of my parents’ shower where I could stand barefoot. 

I decided to take a mini-trip to South Carolina, crashing a couple days in my parents’ hotel in Hilton Head. It was a little of their world and a little of mine as I coerced them into joining me at Congaree National Park (my mom didn’t take much coercing).

Congaree is one of the oldest hardwood forests in the USA and lies entirely within a floodplain. During the rainy season the entire park becomes a river. For us, it was wet but walkable, and the biggest hazard were the giant spiders hanging around every tree. Afterwards, we went our separate ways, and I spent a few nights sleeping in my car as I explored Charlotte, NC, Boone, NC, Eastern Kentucky, and the southern coalfields of WV. 

Sprinkle in another week of family time, and I decided the best way to be productive was to forego a job search and drive to the northeast instead. This brings us to October. I planned close to nothing, and it showed in the productivity of my trip. I made it all over upstate New York which included a couch in Ithaca with my friend Austin, my grandfather’s birthplace Glens Falls, and Lake Placid where my aunt and uncle happened to be visiting. There were a dozen small towns that all kinda felt the same, and my energy was running low. 

Every place you stop is another “cute” town. Leaves are an assortment of colors. An army of leaf peepers (people that go to the northeast to see the leaves change) are everywhere I am going, not something I planned. Luckily, my friend Jordan was flying into Boston to do the Maine portion of the trip with me. I finished up Vermont and New Hampshire with a little more gusto knowing I’d have company soon. 

New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire were all great but nearly indistinguishable from one another; you could be in all three of them in about an hour of driving. Maine sets itself apart.

One thing I learned about myself is apparently I’m a lighthouse guy. More specifically, a northeast lighthouse guy. The more haunted the better. Is it on Shutter Island? Perfect.  

First, Jordan and I drove to Lubec, Maine, which is the furthest East you can drive in the USA.

This was a goal as I have now driven as far north, west, and east as one can drive in our country. The Florida Keys remain as the most southern highway that I have yet to traverse. Lubec was more than an engraved rock designating its most easterly point, but it did have one of those. It was also a gateway to New Brunswick, and my friend Jordan and I brought our passports. New Brunswick contained my favorite lighthouse, East Quoddy. This lighthouse was only accessible at low tide via an intermediate island.

Jordan and I showed up with a rising tide and a locked access gate. The teenage kid working security suggested we not attempt to walk to the lighthouse, but he also made it clear that he lacked the authority to stop us. So we ran. 

The risk was worth it. We kept our visit very short before running back to the mainland, and maybe the energy spike contributed but this was our favorite lighthouse, and visually I think it holds up as such. 

Our goal after Lubec was to accomplish as much of Acadia National Park as we could. Our first stop was the Precipice Loop trail. This is one of the most difficult trails in the park, and I knew a decent amount about it after reading the description. As I was putting on my boots a couple guys walked up to me and started asking me about the trail. I recited them the info I had read online. After a minute of conversation, it became clear they thought I had done this hike before, and I was in too deep to correct them (because that’s how I am that’s why).

They were hesitant about the dramatic cliff sides and ladder climbing on this trail. I told them “You can always turn around.”, which was my error, because they told me “That’s funny because the lady we saw this morning specifically told us that you are not allowed to turn around.” What does that lady know? Has she done the trail or something? Well, I gave them one last vote of confidence, fully buying into the character I had created now. I let them get a head start hoping I wouldn’t see them again. 

The trailhead gave a warning about turning around. Every 100th of a mile I turned to Jordan and said “We could definitely turn around if we needed to. Right?” It wasn’t very long before we caught them on the trail, and the questions commenced. “Is this the hardest part?” “Are we almost there?” I was trying to take in as much data as possible from my trail guide app.

Eventually we got to a spot where we were now leading them up this cliff side. They weren’t shy about voicing their fear. My social anxiety had now forced me into a corner where I was the bravest person on this cliffside. I had to be after all… I had been here before. When we got to the top I offered them my water and was grateful we would never have to see them again. We would end up seeing them and speaking on three separate occasions in the next 24 hours, but I made it clear each time that the Precipice Loop was the only part of the park I had ever seen before. 

The park could use some more dollars to accommodate the mass of crowds. I was surprised at how ill-equipped the parking was in mid October. Bass Harbor is the classic lighthouse image of Acadia, and we were stuck in a 50 car line waiting for a spot. We ended up taking turns with the car while the other went to go see the lighthouse.

You could say this tested my self assessment of being a lighthouse guy. 10/10 not worth an extended wait when the reward is fighting for a view with 100 other tourists. Why can’t I be the only one who wants to see the sights?  

The crowds also meant that we could not find a campground for our second night in the park. Instead, we had to find the limits of the Honda Civic. With some creativity I now know I can sleep TWO people in the back of my car.

I just know my future wife is gonna be thrilled at all the hotel money we can save by instead sleeping snugly in the trunk of a sedan. That will be a thrifty honeymoon. 

Jordan’s companionship came to a close at the Boston Airport. From there I drove down to New York City to spend the day with a Huntington friend, Isabella and her boyfriend Jimmy. According to them I received the “New Yorker tour of New York”. I was fine with that, because if the crowds at Acadia were driving me mad, something tells me that Times Square may have forced a stronger response.

I made my way out of New York after a bagel, a pizza slice, a donut, a bike ride, a $50 parking bill, and the confirmation that I am better equipped and suited for the Arctic Circle than I am for Manhattan.  

My agenda post NYC was short. I stopped in Philadelphia for a true Philly Cheese Steak, and another stop in Harper’s Ferry, WV, to explore a part of West Virginia that I hadn’t seen before.

There’s so much history and beauty to appreciate, but I was once again tired and ready to be home. It was just 17 days on the road but nevertheless a long time to wear flip flops in the shower and sleep in a bag. 

Seven months ago, I sat in my parents’ kitchen putting the final touches on my agenda. Now I’m sitting in their den, but there’s a whole lot more than ten strides between where I was then and where I am now.