Angry Seize.

A storm a-piers to be brewing.

Williamsport, PA – Foaming at the mouth, the sea lashes at the shore with angry tongues.

Waves are expected to surpass 10 feet this afternoon. Even now, winds average 50 km/h, with gusts double that.

As it was only two hours from Philadelphia – and home to Dogfish Head brewery – we decided to head back to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware yesterday.

A beer, and the sea: bliss.

Pots of palm fronds have blown over, however, and the red ‘No Swimming' flag cracks a loud warning from the lifeguard station. The pole bends like an inflatable tube man outside a used car lot.

And Hurricane Dorian is only as far as North Carolina.

I love the sea and, even with the storm, feel incredibly at peace as the sand shaves my legs. I lose myself in the churn and never want to escape its grasp.

As tempting as it is to stay to watch the fringe of Dorian, though, we’ve caught the tailwind out of town, winding along the Susquehanna river, and into the sunshine.

We’ve pulled up into Williamsport, Pennsylvania – home to the Little League World Series – which is alive with music and art on the street.

And no hurricanes in sight.

Vitals:

• Time: 6.5 hours
• Distance: 441.6 kilometres
• Weather: Rain, leading into sun
• States: Delaware, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: None

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

At what cost, liberty?

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – With all the driving I've done lately, I appreciate that public transportation will carry us out to the Mann Center for our Vampire Weekend concert tonight.

A young boy pops onto the bus, his smile wide.

His shirt reads: “Shoot basketballs, not people.”

I’m immediately reminded I’m in the United States.

Staking Claim.

High-stakes competition.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – “One wiz wit, please."

Apparently, that's the lingo for properly ordering a cheesesteak in Philly.

The please may just be a Canadianism.

The end result, loosely wrapped in wax paper, is a hot sandwich slathered in melted Cheez Whiz (rather than “provy” for provolone) and onions (as opposed to “widdout”).

Cheese and onions: the only two answers you need to know. A sign says you'll be sent to the back of the line if you get it wrong.

I'm not sure they're joking.

Having wandered out to the Liberty Bell, through the historic district and down to Penn's Landing this morning, we've made our way to the epicentre of the city’s longstanding sandwich battle. Originator Pat’s King of Steaks sits kitty-corner to its neon-clad rival, Geno’s Steaks. The two have engaged in friendly competition since the sandwich’s creation in the 1960s.

Despite several cheese options, Cheese Whiz is somehow the 10-1 favourite, with Geno’s claiming to go through 8-10 cases of the processed product daily. Nobody said the sandwich was healthy.

Not a mistake.

Not one to miss out on an origin story, I opt for Pat’s for my first legitimate Philadelphia cheesesteak. Tangy, velvety cheese (or something approximating it, I suppose) coats a mound of shaved meat and a thin layer of onions on a fresh roll. It's pretty quiet, so we're easily able to find a seat after bouncing between separate windows for the sandwich and for a beverage.

A marker commemorating where Sylvester Stallone stood while filming the movie Rocky has been punched into the pavement beside the order window.

I don’t eat much beef, but the sandwich hits the spot. I’m not sure, however, it matched the hearty smoked salmon sandwich I had this morning at the Little Spoon Café.

Getting my Phil.

Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Philadelphia, PA – The dark velour of the early morning sky frays at the seams, salmon spawning across its belly.

It’s 5:30 a.m. and the rising sun has already become lazy with fall.

We wind through New York’s hills, which have only begun to molt summer’s skin, much like the greying you question seeing at your temples as you age. Through Pennsylvania’s Endless Mountains and Poconos, however, the leaves have begun to smoulder like recently lit cigarettes amidst puff-cheeked hills.

Vampire Weekend plays on repeat, getting us ready for tomorrow night’s concert on the outskirts of Philadelphia.

Our first stop in the City of Brotherly Love, though, is for a beer and moules et frites at the legendary Monk’s Café.

It has been called one of the top-five places in the world to have a beer and, upon scanning the list, I am disinclined to argue.

Vitals:

• Time: 10 hours
• Distance: 880 kilometres
• Weather: Sun with clouds, warming as we progressed
• Province/States: Ontario, New York, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: None