Trip 46 — Long Island Walk

Day 15: Sayville to Merrick
Thursday, 20 November 2025

Today: 66993 steps/47.01 km/29.21 mi/8h 42m
Total: 710661 steps/542.96 km/337.38 mi/95h 32m

The breakfast at the Come as You Are Inn includes homemade bread and pastries and fruit, but it's so much more than that. The serving time is officially 9:00, but Mark and Ari have offered to have it ready earlier. I come down at 8:30.

I take an everything bagel, baked by Ari, and add cream cheese with chives from their garden. I have a hard-boiled egg and granola with blueberries, pineapple, tomatoes, grapes, a date, and yogurt. I drink cranberry juice and a tea called Honey Chai Turmeric Vitality: Sweet and Spicy Blend to Support Overall Health. I think I'm done, but then Mark brings out a biscuit roulade made with berries and whipped cream.

All this food, plus continued conversation about harassment in the neighborhood (Mark has been told the devil will get him) and happier topics, means that I don't leave until 9:30. It's the last long day of the Abecedarian Walks.

I head up through Sayville, where residents' signs advising "Say no to the zone change" are in protest against a planned 890-unit housing development on the land of a former golf course. As has been the pattern through the decades, once residents are established, they don't want anyone else coming in.

I cross over the teeming Sunrise Highway, turn left, and take the service road until the start of a two-and-a-half-mile bike trail. It's still near the highway, with all of the attendant noise, but it's protected, passing by forest and through the Connetquot River State Park Preserve.

Before bed, I'd gotten my blister to drain. But it's still sore, and I'm slow, usually up around 11 minutes per kilometer. Over 47 kilometers, that means almost an extra hour beyond my target. Tonight's lodging is at my cousins' place in Merrick, and no matter how much they tell me there's no rush, I don't want to arrive too late. My original estimate was a hopeful six, but more likely around seven.

Leaving the trail, I go down Connetquot Avenue and right on Jefferson Street. It's a typical suburban street, with people walking their dogs. One house has a self-serve farm stand with jams, and I wonder whether it'll be the last one I see on Long Island.

Having entered Islip proper (the town of Islip is technically a conglomeration of 28 villages and hamlets, Ari said), I cross over the Long Island Rail Road tracks and continue west on Union Boulevard. There's a smattering of eateries and a lot of gas stations as I pass through Bay Shore.

I'm on Union for an hour and a half, walking parallel to the tracks, which are at grade level and have no fence or other barrier preventing people from strolling across to Orinoco Drive, the corresponding parallel street on the tracks' north side. Residents of this neighborhood must be adept at tuning out the trains' whistle.

This stretch is monotonous, and to pass the time I listen to "The Best We Can Do," a new podcast by my college roommate and his identical-twin brother (and for which I happen to have composed the theme music). The latest episode is about questions they keep getting asked as twins, and the single time one of them substituted for the other.

I feel like I'm trudging. I finally reach Babylon, the only attractive town I'll see in the daylight today. Things are now sufficiently urban — Babylon is a major commuting express stop on the Long Island Rail Road — that I'm confident of safe walking space until I get back to Manhattan on Sunday.

I'm ready for a break, but I want to get halfway through the walk; I'm also not particularly hungry after the huge breakfast. The aromas wafting from the Pizzeria of Babylon tantalize me, however, and the Argyle Lake Park looks lovely for a rest.

But I press on until Taheni, a counter-service Palestinian restaurant. I try a chicken wrap with sumac and onions and a side of manakish, a thin bread stuffed with za'atar and cheese. The mint lemonade is refreshing, and I walk out with a Palestinian tune in my head.

I'm still making slow, frustrating progress. The sidewalk is good but the traffic on Route 27A — now once again called Montauk Highway — is loud and fast, and there always seems to be a vehicle in front of me, blocking my path, ready to turn. I'm constantly on the lookout for drivers not paying attention. I also can't be bothered to wait for oncoming traffic turning left in front of me, even if they have the signal. People should always be able to cross the street in one direction.

It's almost dark, and I still have about three hours to go. It's not dangerous, just annoying: the same traffic, gas stations, car-repair shops, shopping plazas. Once in a while the road becomes quieter and residential, but most of the time it's business, with all the attendant urgency of people staking their vehicles' claim on the road's limited space. Now I put on "Stuff You Should Know," which Liz introduced me to — today's episode is about graffiti culture and how it became legitimized as art.

In Massapequa, I wish I had time for a stop at the All American, where my friend Maureen worked in high school. The neon sign beckons and it just seems like the kind of place that would have been a hangout in "Grease."

Instead, I go south into Seaford, where my brother's friend owns the Bayview Tavern. I didn't know that Long Island had the kind of neighborhood where narrow parallel streets with houses alternate with narrow canals for their boats, but here it is. The New England clam chowder is dense with clams and potatoes and nicely spiced, and the margarita — plus a shot of Jameson thanks to the owner — makes me determined to complete the last six kilometers in good time.

No matter how fast I think I'm going, however, Helga brings me back to reality. I continue on Merrick Road and then north on Bellmore Avenue. I've already updated my cousin several times with my arrival estimate, but I also can't show up empty-handed. I dash — or more accurately stagger — into a wine store, grab the first reasonably priced bottle I see, pay, and stagger out with it under my arm. Bellmore looks inviting, but my mind isn't in a position to appreciate it.

"Total distance forty-five kilometers....Split pace eleven minutes, thirty-five seconds per kilometer," Helga announces.

"Damn it!" I shout into the air. I'm livid. I feel like I've been racing. I start running as fast as I can (this is AWKWARD-compliant, because at this point, who cares?). I'm going to do a fast kilometer if it kills me.

I almost trip on the uneven sidewalk.

"Damn it!" I shout again.

I run down Oak Street. The street has a little hiccup where it intersects with another but doesn't continue directly on the other side.

"Where is it? I'm not waiting for cars," I say as I cross the side street and find the second half of Oak.

"Total distance forty-six kilometers....Split pace eight minutes, thirty-four seconds per kilometer."

"Take that, Helga!"

Except now I'm barely walking straight. My feet are mixed up with each other. I regain my footing and get back on track. "Turning from Grace onto Nancy," I message my cousin — I'm finally on her street.

I start counting the houses, since I'm not sure I'll make out the numbers. But I don't need to. From down the street I can see she's got a flashlight, pointing it in my direction. I'm an hour later than originally scheduled. I wave, but it's probably too subtle and far away, so I call out.

"Hello, cousin!"

Go on to day 16