What I Didn't Tell You Last Week
My eclipse adventure wasn't the only item I checked off my list
If you read last week’s post, you know that I set out on an adventure to view the total solar eclipse from the slice of Pennsylvania that was in the path of totality.
And I want to tell you all about that, but it’s going to take some time. By the time you read this, I’ll be back from my travels but I won’t have had a lot of time to process.
So, instead, I’m typing this from my motel room in northwestern Pennsylvania on the first night of my trip because I’ve already accomplished something else on my list just by getting here:
A solo trip.
I wanted to do one last year, and it just didn’t happen, and even as I tried to plan one for this year, it looked different than how it ended up. I envisioned a cozy AirBnB at the beach (in winter even!) or a night or two in a cabin or even an overnight at a monastery (I enquired but couldn’t make the timing work with my schedule).
I am a person who needs a lot of alone time to be mentally well, and with two teenagers in the house, a husband, and a part-time job full of people, alone time is scarce. What I wanted was to get away just for me. To read or binge a show or write. To reconnect with myself apart from all the other roles I play.
But schedules and budgets being what they are (full and a joke, respectively), I realized that my eclipse adventure fulfills some of what I was needing from a solo trip.
And, hello! I drove diagonally across the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania by myself and stayed at a motel. By myself. Two things I wasn’t eager to broadcast before the fact, but I did it!
I’m a worrier (see: anxious) and I love to travel (see: adventures) and I enjoy my own company (see: introvert). But I’m not practiced at traveling alone. I’ve only done it a handful of times in my life. And I have great stories from those adventures. Somehow, though, I always retreat back to a point of safety eventually and forget what it’s like to feel fully alive as I bust through my comfort zone.
How It Started
I wasn’t the only anxious one in my family. My kids, at least one of them anyway, verbalized their anxiety about me leaving because I’d be gone for two of their school days. They are teenagers and Phil leaves the house an hour before they do, and I do assist in the morning routine, but we talked through it before I left. They are fully capable of getting themselves ready and on the bus in my absence.
As I set out, I was a bundle of nerves. I worry that the car will break down or that I’ll get in an accident or that my health will suffer. I hyper focus on what could go wrong hardly pausing to consider what could go right.
What Went Right
Because of my special medical condition (i.e. the pulmonary embolism), I have to stop frequently when I’m driving to walk around and stretch my legs and get my circulation moving (in addition to wearing compression socks). So I planned my route to include multiple stops where I would have to at least get out of the car for a few minutes. In travel and in life, I’m a just-want-to-get-where-I’m-going type. So, intentionally choosing to stop and extend the trip is hard.
But it’s also the best way to see interesting stuff.
My first stop was at the Stone Arch Bridge in Lewistown which is on the National Register of Historic Places.
I would have spent more time and enjoyed it more if I hadn’t had to pee. So, I headed down the road to Sheetz.
My second stop was also a Sheetz. Have I mentioned that decisions are hard for me and sometimes I overthink? Phil does a lot of our vacation planning because too many choices overwhelm me. Anyway, this one was in Philipsburg, and I picked up lunch so I could eat it at my next stop, a rest area on I-80.
Until I’d been on the interstate, I hadn’t seen any signs for the eclipse, but PennDot was getting the word out so that people didn’t cause accidents during the event on Monday. That’s when it started to feel real.
I had an enjoyable lunch in the sunshine at the rest area. Stopping while I’m traveling is also hard for me because it feels vulnerable. Like, people might notice I’m alone or what if they want to make conversation? As long as I’m moving, I don’t feel exposed. There’s probably more to that than I want to consider right now.
What Went Wrong
My trip wasn’t perfect. Shocker, right? Since our last road trip, we’ve gotten new phones and I discovered that I brought the wrong cord to use the car charger and the charging block I borrowed from my daughter. So, because I was listening to audiobooks and using the GPS, my phone was down to 15 percent with still about an hour to go.
I still made my next stop at Maurice K. Goddard State Park because I once again had to pee, and I love nature and that has been lacking in my life lately. I found the trail access and restrooms at the dam on Lake Wilhelm, and I walked the multi-purpose trail, taking in the sunshine, the glistening blue water, and the birds. I wanted to walk a lot more than I did, but I was anxious about my phone dying.
So, it was back to the car and to the next town of a certain size where I stopped at—you guessed it!—a Sheetz. I looked at the phone accessories just inside the door, but I froze in my decision making because I just wasn’t sure. This is where I need someone else to tell me what’s right. There was another display further inside the store, and it was all Marvel themed phone accessories. But they were labeled better than the other ones, and I was fairly sure which cord I needed. Plus, they had it in “Hulk” theme.
I ignored the price because it was a necessity, and I tried it as soon as I got back to the car. Success!
I breathed a sigh of relief and also felt like a total badass for problem solving all by myself. I mean traveling alone has its scary moments, but it’s not the Oregon Trail. I did not die of dysentery. And I’m pretty sure I could have gotten to the motel without the cord. I did print out my directions like it was the 1900s.
In the end, what really matters?
I made it to my lodging. I checked in, got settled, ordered dinner for pickup later with little to no research, and headed out again for my final goal of the day: Lake Erie.
I’ve wanted to visit Presque Isle State Park for years. The last time we tried, it was closed, maybe for some kind of weather-related reason. And if there’s a body of water in the vicinity of my travels, I want to see and experience it. (I had already enjoyed my drive along the Susquehanna and Juniata rivers.)
There’s something about a Great Lake, though. And it didn’t disappoint. So many people had the same idea, but it didn’t detract from my experience because I was only in charge of me. I got to decide how long I stayed and where I walked and how much sand got in my shoes.
It was just what I hoped it would be.
I picked up my dinner, stopped by the grocery store to get some supplies for Eclipse Day, and went back to my room where I ate while sitting on the bed, flipping through TV channels for background noise, and checking messages. I showered. I’m taking up all the room on both beds.
I didn’t leave the state but I feel worlds away from my life. I needed this, and my family will be better for it when I get back.
All of that was just day one.
I have more to tell you about this brief stretch of time where I did two things just for me. Next week, I’ll give you my eclipse round-up. I’m going to need that much time to figure out how I feel about what I witnessed.
Until then, I’d like to encourage you to do whatever it takes for you to feel fully alive. Whenever I think or say those words, things like skydiving or cliff jumping or worldwide travel come to mind, and while those are things that can make a person feel fully alive, I don’t believe they are the only things.
Take the time to think about what you’ve “always” wanted to do and find a way to do it. Learn a language. See an ocean. Wear a dress. Dye your hair. Or let your hair go naturally gray. I have no regrets about setting these intentions for my life and then finding a way to pursue them.
I don’t think you will regret it, either.