A field in Philadelphia is not where I thought I’d find myself last Monday evening. Recently, I became an urban biker (bicycle that is). Yes, I finally braved my fear of cars and joined them on the road--well technically the bike lane whenever there is one. When the chance arrived to do something impulsive, I knew I wanted to get on my bike and go somewhere. The question was where this somewhere would be. The answer came around 4pm. My sister Meghan called me and first asked if I would like to go on a farm tour in Jonestown, Pa.--about a two-and- a-half hour car ride west of Philadelphia. We both agreed that we did not feel like being cooped up in a car that long. So she posed the question, “Well, how about we bike to Bartram’s Garden?” Thus, this is where my journey began.
One hour later I was biking down Broad Street, dodging double parked cars and the occasional person opening a car door right as I was coming. I managed to survive all obstacles and arrive at our meet-up spot, Spring Garden Street. Meghan came from her job in Center City. I spotted her bright orange helmet as she traveled north toward me. Then, off we went to the wild west of Philadelphia.
Meghan has talked about this wonderful garden for ages. Bartram’s Garden describes itself as “a garden of curiosity, minutes from Center City.” According to the Garden’s website, John Bartram was “America’s first naturalist, botanist, and plant explorer.” The 40 plus acres of land—located today at 54th Street and Lindbergh Avenue— was his 18th-century home.
It is true that my sister told me the garden is in West Philly. What she neglected to mention was that those “minutes from Center City” really meant 60 long minutes from Temple University’s Main Campus.
The 60 minute bike ride brought many surprises both good and bad. As I was biking over the Spring Garden Bridge, a teenage or twenty-something boy had his car window down and felt the need to scream “ahhh!” as he went by me. Naturally, it made me jump and then become incredibly upset. He decided giving me a fright as I biked passed the on-ramp to 76 was a fun idea. Meghan told me that a lot of motorists do dumb stuff like that (though she used more colorful language to describe them).
We veered off of Spring Garden Street and made a stop at Drexel Park, located by Powelton Avenue and North 32nd Street. The whole time I was trying to catch my breath and drink some water. I blamed my struggle on using muscles I don’t normally use (rather than placing the blame on how out of shape I am). This pit stop was somewhere I have wanted to go to forever. It is my favorite view of the city. All the skyscrapers are in sight and to the left you can see the Art Museum, which then was glowing with light from the sun. We took a few pictures of ourselves with the skyline in the background. Everything at this moment was beautiful.
That moment ended when a car hit a fellow city biker at the corner of Powelton Avenue and 32nd Street. Soon a police car arrived and all parties involved in the accident appeared to be okay. Still, my urban bike riding fears came back. Luckily my sister is a veteran city cyclist and was leading the way.
We left the park around 5:40 p.m. We did not stop for too long because the sun was going to set in one hour, and Bartram’s closes at dusk. I had not eaten since lunch and was a little lightheaded, but I had to get to the garden before the day was done. So I rode on, exhausted and yet excited.
We traveled deeper into the West past run down factories in areas I would not go by myself. The car drivers felt entitled to go about 45 mph on these backstreets. Ahead of me, Meghan rode farther away up a steep hill. I had to take a rest in this less than ideal stopping place. I had no choice. I was beyond tired going up this hill.
After 30 seconds, I found some energy to keep going. Meghan and her bike came into view and so did a sign with an arrow pointing to the entrance of Bartram’s Gardens. I made it!
The two of us walked our bikes down the gravel road and the noises of the city grew quieter. Trees began to surround us as we approached the main area. After locking up our bikes, a man who works there asked if this was our first visit to the Gardens. I answered it was for me. He gave me some pamphlets and a map of Bartram’s land and simply said “Enjoy your visit.”
I more than enjoyed my visit. The land was so magical. It was almost dusk, so the main garden was closed. However, a beautiful large field was mine for exploring. Meghan and I walked around for a bit as she told me a little about the area. I learned the placid body of water sitting by the field was actually the Schuylkill River. There is also a bonfire pit on the shores of river. I felt like I was in the woodsy areas of my homeland Chester County. I would have believed this too if it were not for the silver buildings in the distance.
The sun had set. That was our cue to leave. On our bikes we rode back to into the streets of the city. Our last leg of the journey began- the search for something decent to eat and a return to our respective city dwelling places.
I will never forget that Monday. It was such a juxtaposition to be standing in a field neighboring a forest while looking in the distance at the Center City sky scraper. I never expected there even was a field and woodsy area in West Philadelphia, of all places! While the bike ride was hard at times, I am forever glad for all the unexpected events that happened on this extraordinary Monday.
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