The Weekly Croissant: Normalize Urban Backpacking

Why Art Hoes love a walk

I love the great outdoors, and I love a long hike. I love packing all that I need to survive for a few days into a compact bag and carrying it on my back. And, as I like to tell my friends, I also love Not Camping. Something about the plastic texture of the tent and the sleeping bag, the freezing cold ground, and the inability to stick my toes out the bottom of the blanket. I never sleep well. I am anxious knowing that I won’t sleep well. But I often suffer through it, because I don’t want to miss out on the camping-adjacent activities with my more outdoorsy friends and family. In light of these problems, I think I have found a solution to suit these contrasting desires: Urban Backpacking.

This past Tuesday George and I drove back to NYC from the Catskills, where we had performed together in Roxbury at a festival called Fiddlers! (which was as quaint and cozy as it sounds). We had planned to spend a few days together in the city so that we could get some quality time in before parting ways again for the rest of the month.

We decided to drop our bags off at our hotel before returning the rental car at LaGuardia, so it would be easier to ride the subway back. We’d been in the car for hours that day and when we finally arrived at scenic Hertz, it was a sunny and beautiful afternoon, about 4 pm. We had only our backpacks with us, and the thought of getting into another moving vehicle after sitting in traffic was making me queasy.

“Let’s just walk a little of the way”, we said…

Well, you might guess what happened next. The 10-mile hike from LaGuardia to Brooklyn became both a challenge and a sightseeing experience. We spent about five hours (including food and beverage stops) walking through Queens into Brooklyn, from Sunnyside to Williamsburg into Park Slope. Seeing the neighborhoods change every few blocks and the sometimes strange urban scenery was amazing. I was underprepared in my pink corduroys and Air Force 1’s, but the blisters were well worth it. About an hour in, we stopped at a Colombian restaurant in Sunnyside for empanadas and mojitos. The drinks had LED lights flashing and changing colors inside them. Amazing. When we had almost reached our breaking point, at 8.5 miles, we ordered a giant pizza and an “Italian hot chocolate” which I think was mostly Kahlua at an adorable joint in Brooklyn. Here’s a little photo diary of the trip:

This experience reminded me of a poem I wrote a couple years back…

The Sacred, The Profane 

Strange the way we worship these ancient artifacts

Our fees paid to guides wearing plastic lanyards 

And badged guards with walkie-talkies on their hips  

Heads aching, in groups of five on field trips 

We are taught the specialness of decay

Yet upon returning to our city 

current in its ruin, we despair

Seeing the smashed windows of midwestern industry 

From the cold rattling train; that indiscriminate mover of haves and havenots

The graffitied warehouses, rusting through harsh winter salt 

Cocaine and cannabis diffused by 

Shopping cart heroes of the underbelly 

This too is beauty, This too is resilience

This too, is a museum of humanity 

thanks for hanging with the Croissant!