Local bike-or-hike paths connect coastal communities — and the like-minded folks drawn to them

By Jeanne Shook
Photograph by Rob Waters 
From the June 2021 issue

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If you ask Siri, “How do I get to Gordons Pond?” don’t be surprised if she replies, “You can’t get there from here.” Even Siri knows that some of coastal Delaware’s most scenic spots are not accessible unless the mode of transportation is bicycle or shoe leather express.

Biking the trails in coastal Delaware is akin to surfing in Southern California: a year-round activity so embraced by residents and visitors alike that it’s become an integral part of the Slower Lower ethos, earning the state national attention. The League of American Bicyclists currently ranks Delaware sixth in the country on its list of bicycle-friendly states. And Lewes has been singled out as a bronze-level “Bicycle Friendly Community,” the league’s designation for towns and municipalities that foster a culture of bicycling for everyone. 

Maybe a 20-year-old essay by a sixth-grader says it best

By Terry Plowman
From the May 2021 issue

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I still remember my first visit to Rehoboth Beach, back in 1978. As a Baltimore native, my image of an oceanfront resort was based on the only one I was familiar with: gaudy Ocean City, Md. — high-rises shading the beach, cinder-block apartment buildings instead of real homes, six lanes of terror instead of quiet residential streets.

When I first drove into Rehoboth for a job interview at the Coast Press, my reaction was probably like that of most first-time visitors: “Wow!” Could it be that an ocean resort could have tree-lined neighborhoods, few high-rises and old-fashioned homes with wraparound porches?

Some area cemeteries are barely recognizable after decades — or longer — of neglect. A few self-appointed caretakers are trying to change that, one headstone at a time.

By Bill Newcott  
From the May 2021 issue

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For the most part, the drivers tooling along Log Cabin Hill Road near Harbeson don’t notice the lady in the cemetery, but if they were to think about it, they’d realize she’s out there nearly every morning. 

Weather permitting, Dinah Handy-Hall will be puttering around the tombstones of Coolspring Presbyterian Church, daintily applying cleansing solutions to the headstones of worn granite and brittle slate, lovingly placing flowers at some of the older gravesites. Sometimes her husband, Larry, will show up to help lift and reset a 200-pound monument that has tumbled due to wind or settling soil.

The rustic, rectangular church building was built in 1854, but it’s the third sanctuary to stand on this site. (See “A Church for the Ages” on page 42.) The cemetery dates back to the 1730s — and people who lived in the same century as William Shakespeare are among those buried there. 

“I can stand at the gravesites of the McIlvaines or the Torberts,” Handy-Hall says, sounding as if she’s talking about the neighbors down the street, “and I know that 270 years ago their family stood at that very spot and said their farewells to their loved ones.

“Plus, the very same headstone has stood there all that time. With very minimal effort, I can extend the life of that stone by 20 years with just some water, a soft brush, and a biological cleaner.”

That cleaner is a product called D-2, and it’s the same stuff they use to keep the White House white. 

“It’s quite expensive,” says Handy-Hall. “Sometimes there are stones that I have to clean as many as six times. But it works, and it doesn’t damage the stone.”