Travel Log: Day 2 of East Coast Trip

PHILADELPHIA AND MORE (DAY 2)

     

    The Megabus arrived in Philadelphia late by a half-hour, making an already busy schedule even more hectic.  After having exited the bus and getting ready to put my bike together I realized that I left the other wheel (size considerations) and my tripod in the bus.  Fortunately, I was able to get the driver to let me back in to retrieve my stuff.  

     Like D.C., my first experience at Philadelphia was the train station, specifically 30^th Street Station.  This was an overall impressive station, a little less so than D.C. in terms of size, but more so in terms of historic design and elegance.  From the station, after some difficulty, I found my way to the Chestnut Hill East train operated by SEPTA.  Chestnut Hill is a historic, picturesque community in northern Philadelphia, which I learned about from Google Maps. 

     Chestnut Hill was warm and breezy upon arrival.  Cobblestone streets were present, which aren't as nice as they sound when riding a bike.  I went to their Starbucks for a treat fairly early in my trip, it was one of my favorite locations.  Once again, things were harder than they appeared on Google Maps.  I primarily went to Chestnut Hill to visit and photograph Chestnut Hill College, especially the main building.  I did find the campus itself but I never found the main building.  Additionally, I wanted to check out the neighboring University of Pennsylvania Arboretum, which I also missed due to lack of time.

     One of the highlights of my Chestnut Hill visit was the Weavers Way Co-Op where I bought a generously sized affordable bottle of local water.  I love co-op stores and wish Orange had one.  My first experience shopping a co-op was in Isla Vista while attending UC Santa Barbara. 

     Once again, I had troubles, this time finding Chestnut Hill West station.  Actually, I originally intended to bike all the way back to downtown but was losing time fast.  My stay in Chestnut Hill was overextended by an hour.  Hence, I chose to return on the parallel Chestnut Hill West line because it was more convenient in terms of schedule and because I wanted different scenery. 

     I eventually found it had been underneath my nose the whole time.  I was confused by the apparent absence of tracks across Germantown Avenue or a SEPTA station.  It turned out that the tracks were underneath the street, tunneled under the hill, and the station was somewhat hidden and accessible by a ramp and stairs behind a periodical business.  Furthermore, the ticket office was closed, so I had to pay a higher fare for an onboard ticket purchase when I had planned to not buy a ticket at all.  However, the conductor was very friendly (“I got you covered!”) and the scenery was nicer than the Chestnut Hill East line. 

     In the lobby, after I left the SEPTA platform, I realized that my bike’s bag was missing, which contained a wrench.  I retraced my steps and located it on the platform.  This was the second near loss of something important on this trip.

     Next I found my way to the Amtrak train from Philadelphia to Lancaster (the gateway to Amish country).  I already was an hour behind schedule and ended up missing Amish country although I saw it from the train; the ride was one of the highlights of the whole trip, and ties Chestnut Hill for the best part of my Pennsylvania experience.  The Pennsylvanian countryside and towns were awash in golden and orange fall foliage (I was especially impressed with Downingtown).  However, I made it to Lancaster County Central Park, my other main destination, and Franklin and Marshall College.  
     I like colleges and parks because they typically have the best combination of landscaping and architecture.  My ride to the college was once again fraught with frustrating directions, really it all was.  I was surprised how ghetto parts of Lancaster were.  There were neighborhood watch signs posted throughout a rundown part of my route (thank you, Google Maps) and I think I saw a man propositioning a woman from his truck.  This place made Harlem in New York look like daycare.  
       I found Lancaster by serendipity and intuition, serendipity once again played a role in my finding of Kurtz Covered Bridge.  I was surprised to find a farm in Lancaster County Park that resembled farms from Amish country (lessening the loss from my itinerary).  Unfortunately, navigational difficulty continued to plague my visit to Lancaster as I had taken an off-road “shortcut” and forgot how to retrace my path.  This time I found myself almost stranded in the sprawling park wilderness outside of town as it was getting dark.  I heard what sounded like wolves or coyotes in the distance (I spotted some canine residents earlier), which started to unnerve me.  I used my tablet as a flashlight while I tried to make sense of my directions relative to where I was.  Fortunately, a Sheriff’s officer saw me and offered me directions.

     However, the officer’s directions were only good enough to get me back to the city.  I still had to find my way to the train station.  I saw a grocery store that tempted me with the promise of candy and water.  As luck would have it, I was able to procure directions (thanks to a fellow shopper and a helpful security guard) to the train station, which consisted merely of continuing north along the same street (“You can’t miss it”).  It's also worth noting that the Lancaster station was surprisingly big with a pre-lobby downstairs, a main lobby and ticketing area upstairs, a big waiting room beyond, and finally the platforms also downstairs.   

     Once again I was behind schedule.  I got to Philadelphia late at night and found myself struggling to navigate the urban grid yet again.  Eventually the directions started working out and things were going well until I found myself apparently way off course.  So I turned around trying to find my way based on partial directions and intuition.  Finally I found the major street that intersects the street of my lodging. 

     This hostel also allowed my bike to be stored in the basement.  However, in D.C. they made me carry it, whereas in Philadelphia they insisted upon carrying it.  Philadelphia had the kitchen and lounge space all on the first floor.  There were many floors of rooms above, my room seemed like it was four floors up. 

     That reminds me, the one problem with the D.C. hostel was very squeaky beds.  Fortunately, the Philadelphia hostel had quiet beds.

     I was greeted by a very friendly and handsome young man in the room (the bunk above mine) who got me talking about my fun and hectic travels.  He told me that he was from Western Massachusetts and in town for a professional convention.  He reinforced my passion for Fall color and expressed that he was thoroughly east coast at heart with no particular plans to travel to the west.             

     I was restless, so I decided to fight fire with fire by drinking coffee downstairs.  I love having coffee while traveling.  I was sucked into some conversation that involved Europeans and a cool black dude (certainly the sentiments of the Europeans) who worked there.  The coffee worked and I went up for a few hours of sleep.