My Suburban Escapes

“Open your eyes 
and see what you can find with them 
before they close forever.”

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

When the time comes to turn myself loose ‘til suppertime, I hit the road. It’s the oldest trick in the book (!!ROAD TRIP!!) but you forget about it as life creeps in requiring you to put away childish things. I just step away for the day to go find something new. At first, solo day tripping felt awkward after so much family time.  Shouldn’t I bring the children? Strap ‘em on like a masthead and lumber off into the woods to teach them something? But I forgave myself for the guilty pleasure of time alone, recalling the first time I truly understood the stewardess’ monologue I’d heard hundreds of times – before becoming a mom:  

“In the event of a loss of altitude, please place the oxygen mask 
over your face before assisting small children and the elderly.”

You can’t sustain a life of helping others unless you help yourself first. YOU have to be able to breathe before you can do anything else.  The muscle memory of jumping to the rescue will wear you out. You’re no good to your family if you’re dead – emotionally or spiritually or actually. Road trips are exactly what Delta Airlines had been advising me for years.

I began tripping with purpose. After exploring Rye and neighboring towns, I ventured further out into Westchester County and beyond, still well within range of 2:30 pickup. I allowed myself a radius of sixty miles in any direction: two hours of travel (one out and one back), four hours of adventure and one hour of lost.  Lost is one of my favorite things to get.  Allot time for it.  You can enjoy finding your way back rather than hitting the panic button.

One of my first planned adventures was hiking in the Hudson Highlands with a new friend on a picture-perfect autumn day. We were happily chatting along the trail for hours under a robin blue sky at season’s peak when we discovered we were lost. We had veered off the leaf-strewn trail and wandered over the mountain, far from our car. Sounds fun.  Unless you have to pick up the kids in an hour…and you didn’t make a backup plan…and there’s no cell phone coverage…and your phone is dying as you desperately send out one more text. Not so fun. I’ve learned the hard way how important having a PLAN B (for Backup) is.  

I’ve run out of gas in my boat on the Hudson and swam to shore in my undies to siphon gas from a riding lawn mower. 
PLAN B: ALWAYS CARRY EXTRA FUEL. JOIN SEATOW.

I’ve had a flat tire on the highway. 
PLAN B: ALWAYS CARRY A SPARE AND TOOLS. JOIN AAA.

I’ve sweet-talked my way out of a ticket for trailering my boat on the Taconic. 
PLAN B: STUDY MAP FOR ALTERNATE BACKROADS. 

I’ve often gotten lost while hiking. 
PLAN B: ALWAYS CARRY A TRAIL MAP. 

I’ve dumped out of the woods so far from my car I had to hitchhike a ride back. 
PLAN B: ALWAYS CARRY MONEY.

I’ve locked my keys in my car in the middle of nowhere. 
PLAN B: KEEP AN EXTRA KEY UNDER YOUR CAR. RENEW AAA.

And my trusty boat sank to the bottom of the Hudson. 
PLAN B: RENEW SEATOW MEMBERSHIP.

Shit happens. Be ready for it.