LIKE many former exercisers, I was once a skater — one of those gung-ho New Yorkers who stepped into a pair of Rollerblades one day and instantly had visions of zipping through the city like some cool teen.
Alas, after a few mildly scary runs through Prospect Park, the skates were retired to the basement, where they sat undisturbed for several years.
That was until a weekend last September, when I saw a brochure that described a three-day trek across Lancaster County’s rolling farmland.
“You could do this,” said my girlfriend, “and you could go with Mike.”
Mike is her brother, a guy my age who actually does skate like a superfit teen. So Mike and I piled our stuff into his Jeep and headed for Amish country, where Zephyr Inline Tours runs group skates.
I spent the drive plagued by thoughts of careening pell-mell down a gravel hill into a pile of cow dung, but the whole idea was so wacky it was irresistible.
The Amish, whose basic approach is to avoid anything modern, seemed unlikely hosts to semi-adventurous yuppies geared up in the latest blades.
We pulled into Ephrata, a well-scrubbed, all-American town, and met up with the rest of the group, two dozen others from 13 states, at Doneker’s Guesthouse, where we were all staying.
Zephyr’s founder, Allan Wright, a boyish, 33-year- old former pro soccer player, got started in 1997 and runs the only guided Rollerblade trips anywhere. He gave us the rundown for our three-day weekend:
We would be on our own to follow either a short, medium or long route, ranging from seven to 30 miles. Detailed directions for each route were provided.
We were welcome to take the itinerary we liked best and go at the speed that was most comfortable.
Wright explained that for those who wanted to bail out mid-route or needed a snack or help with equipment, a van would come by regularly. Two guides would cruise the area to lend a hand if necessary.
We piled into the van for our starting point: an old covered bridge just out of town. There, on a gently sloping road, Wright and the guides conducted a quick assessment of our skills, which meant we had to go down the hill and stop.
Mike, the showoff, went down backward. I felt wobbly and stopped only by stepping onto the grass. A refresher lesson ensued.
How was I going to skate for seven miles?
I soon learned how. The countryside, with long stretches of lush farms, was relatively flat and the roads were well-paved. There were no killer downhills, and most of the traffic consisted of horse-drawn buggies driven by black-hatted Amish or Mennonites.
Amish country is stunning. After leaving the covered-bridge area, Mike and I passed an old quarry, then came across a one-room schoolhouse.
In between were fields of tobacco and corn and pristine farmhouses, with small groups of Amish tending their fields.
Though there were a few scares and some heavy huffing during one long uphill, I finished the route without much trouble other than two sore feet.
That night our group gathered at the inn for dinner — a grilled buffet provided by Zephyr — during which everyone swapped travel stories.
The next morning the guides conducted an hour of instruction in the flat parking lot of the inn. Afterward it was off for another tour of the countryside.
Saturday’s route (I picked the intermediate, 21-mile run) took us to a terrific farmers’ market in Bird-in-Hand, where all kinds of local specialties were sold.
I began to feel more comfortable. It helped that the routes were set up so that all the skaters, no matter what level, met at designated areas at about the same time. Directions were precise and accurate, so that it was almost impossible to get lost.
And rolling along these quiet roads brought us face to face with the area’s main attraction: the Amish themselves. It helped that on Saturday, Wright arranged for an additional guide: Matthew Flaud, a 17-year-old Amish boy from the area.
Flaud, who began skating as a tot, told us all about his life, which included such liberties as playing baseball, listening to pop music and racing carriages.
Flaud confessed to wanting his own wheels — “a Camaro,” he said with glee.
The Amish, it turns out, give their teens a lot of freedom before they join the church — at which time they are expected to follow the strict rules of the elders, shunning electricity and motorized transportation.
By Sunday, I was feeling like a pro. At the end of the day, I could hardly believe it: I’d skated a total of 40 miles during the weekend — and seen a remarkable part of the country.
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FAST FACTS
*Ephrata is a two-hour drive from Manhattan. Zephyr’s Amish country three-day weekend tours ($495 for everything except lunches) run in May, June and September. Zephyr will hold informational meetings this Saturday at 1 p.m. at the Science and Business Library, 188 Madison Ave.; (888) 758-8687; http://www.skatetour.com