Long Walks On Leafy Streets

5/14/2013 Indian Institute of Science campus, Bangalore, India (Thanks to Manoj R. Iyer)
My journey to Harper's Ferry started with Nicole dropping me off at the Union station in congested rush hour traffic last friday evening. I managed to make it in time for the 5.40 MARC train. The journey was very pleasant. It seems some people take it even to go to places like Rockville to avoid the crowds on metro-rail. Once past the exurban station of Germantown the train passes through scenic rural areas. It starts running by the Potomac alongside the now defunct C&O canal and its towpath that have been converted to a scenic national park. Approaching Harper's Ferry the train runs hugging sheer cliff sides buttressed by imposing boulders. It then makes a grand entrance into Harper's Ferry station, emerging from a tunnel under a hill and then on a bridge over the Potomac. Harper's Ferry itself is one of the most picturesque places on earth.
It is nestled between mountains on all sides and nurtured by the Shenandoah and the Potomac on either side. “Worth a voyage across the Atlantic” as Jefferson famously observed. For Hindus the confluences of rivers are always sacred places.
When I arrived in Harper's Ferry it was 7.20 and the skies were dark and gloomy. I stopped to get a few things that I had forgotten to bring. Unfortunately there are no grocery stores in Harper's Ferry. It looks like Walmart has completely taken over small town America. Someone told me I could get some things at the small store inside Town's Inn. I had stayed at this Inn once and the friendly owner greeted me. As I was getting out the girl from the store remarked “It is a good thing you brought your umbrella.” It was indeed pouring outside. I started walking in the rain towards the towpath on the empty streets. The river was raging in a torrential flow and the clouds were rumbling with thunder. The hostel was near milepost 59 and I knew Harper's Ferry was near mile 61. So I started walking in the direction the river was flowing, because that would be the direction Washington was and where the towpath begins.
Nevertheless after walking a few minutes I started worrying and did something I rarely did. I picked up my cellphone and called the hostel for directions. I am glad I did because later I found out that the old path that I was planning to take would have been very hard to locate and even harder to walk in the rain and the darkness. I walked at a brisk pace, maneuvering around puddles, trying to enjoy the sound of the rain and the thunder and the roaring river. Near the hostel I crossed the canal, gingerly stepping over the slush, then crossed the railroad tracks and hiked about a quarter mile up Sandy Hook Road. It was a relief to step into the warmth of the hotel, get a hot shower and make dinner in the kitchen.

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