The delegation of eleven garden snails set out from the edge of the lawn on Sept. 18, carrying little more than their shells and a firm belief that the far side of the patio was worth seeing.
It was. At first light on Thursday, the group reached the terracotta flowerpot that has loomed on the horizon for generations, ending a journey of just under four meters that elders had called reckless and that younger snails called “overdue.”
“You spend your whole life looking at that pot,” said one delegate, who asked not to be named because she had not told her family she was going. “At some point you have to go and touch it.”
A route measured in puddles
The crossing was planned around rain. The delegation moved only in the hours after showers, when the paving stones were slick and cool, and sheltered under a fallen leaf during a four-day dry spell that organizers described as “the worst of it.”
Two members turned back in the first week after a cat was seen in the area. The cat, according to witnesses, did not notice anyone and eventually went inside.
What comes next
Delegates said they planned to rest beside the flowerpot through the weekend before deciding whether to return. Several suggested that they might simply stay.
“The moss is better here,” one said. “Don’t print that.”