On Their Merry Way

American blended rye whisky has a bouquet that matches the best cognac France can produce. The dogs of Yakima, Wash. are friendlier than dogs in most U.S. communities. The Burma-Shave company needs a greater variety of jingles for its roadside signs. The best apple pie in the U.S. is served at the Cottage Inn in Cripple Creek, Colo. The whistles of railroad trains speeding across the American prairies are in the key of C, and are the first, third and fifth notes of a chord. These and other minutiae are among the many observations and conclusions of Mr. and Mrs. John David Gill, in the course of leisurely strolls around the U.S. and Canada. By this month the Gills, a Philadelphia couple, had been in pursuit of their favorite pastime--walking hand in hand through the world--for five years, and enjoying every minute of it.

Up the Matterhorn. The Gills are not very eccentric; neither are they hobos in the accepted sense of the word. John Gill, at 66, is a former member of the board of directors of the Atlantic Refining Co. His wife, who is 15 years younger, is a cultured Philadelphia matron. In 1951 Dorothea Gill persuaded her husband to retire and take a short trip to Europe. The trip lasted four years, and the Gills discovered that they saw and learned a great deal more by walking than riding. So they walked.

They climbed the Matterhorn, studied at Oxford for a summer, lived with a family in Denmark. Mrs. Gill filled some dozens of notebooks with odd facts and crisp comments. Last winter they came back home and began walking around North America, traveling comfortably between towns in a 1952 Cadillac, which is laden with complete wardrobes (including evening clothes). They have been at it for ten months and 15,000 miles, and feel they have hardly begun.

The Gills divide each community they visit into districts, and methodically scrutinize each district on foot. Dogs and lawn sprinklers are their main occupational hazards. They cover around ten miles on foot in an average day, have no use for timetables, spend as much--or as little--time as they wish in each town. Although they are well heeled, the Gills live and travel modestly: whenever possible, they look for a place with cooking facilities, and Dorothea Gill prepares the family meals.

In their ramble across the U.S., the Gills have had some variegated experiences and some positive reactions. In Denver they attended a children's birthday party at the airport (they have no children of their own). In Great Bend, Kans., when tornadoes pirouetted around the town, says Mrs. Gill, "we didn't have enough sense to be scared." They helped roll cigars in Tampa. To celebrate the Fourth of July, they climbed a peak in Rocky Mountain National Park. At the top they watched the lightning strike a forest below, while they chatted with the ranger and his wife. In Cripple Creek, after sampling "the best apple pie in the U.S.," they danced until 2 a.m.

Nothing is too insignificant to escape their wrenlike curiosity. "You'd be surprised at the signs," says Mrs. Gill. "I noted them down. The ones we saw all over the United States were the Clabber Girl advertisement, Quaker State motor oil, Burma-Shave, Harold's Club of Reno and Jesse James's Hideout." Mrs. Gill has also noted every highway sign she has seen that needs correcting. "America," she says, "is full of wrong directions."

Slow Tip for a Princess. By last week the Gills had reached British Columbia after sauntering through Washington State, where they stopped to pluck pears in a Yakima orchard and enjoy the sailboats fluttering on Seattle's breezy Lake Washington. Later, in Victoria, dressed appropriately in English tweeds and berets, they were promptly spotted and waved at by Britain's visiting princess Mary, the Princess Royal. (Mrs. Gill scolded Mr. Gill for not tipping his beret quickly enough.)

After another year or so of strolling through the U.S., the Gills plan another European jaunt--then, perhaps, Australia. Eventually, when they become too feeble to keep up with their walkathon, they hope to pick out the pleasantest town they have seen and settle down. It will be a difficult decision to make. "I have the names of a thousand towns jotted down in my notebooks," says Dorothea Gill, "and after each one I have the notation, 'This is the place I'd like most to live.'"

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