Day 1 in Vermont was…two days ago? Three days ago? I was without WiFi for at least a couple of days and have sort of lost track of a few things.  Funny how tied I’ve become to time while being able to access services online. The spectre of “what to do” has peeked at me now and then on this trip, but never really reared it’s head, thank goodness.  I did not plan anything for this trip other than I would cross the border initially at the Thousand Islands crossing and carry on to the Adirondacks Forest and Park in New York State. I did not bring food, I did not plan where I would sleep each night, and I did not consult a map until well into the States.  I think I haven’t travelled like this since I did similarly in Guatemala in 1995, when crossing overland from Belize.  I was much younger then, but did not have the comfort of a car of my own and the ability to sleep within it almost wherever I chose.

I stopped at the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory in Vermont just outside Montpelier.  It was fun to do, and not normally something that I would go out of my way to see.  But this trip was sort of about things like that. It was actually a little smaller in size that I thought it might be.  They have two other ice cream manufacturing facilities in the States (one , much larger in St Alban’s Vermont, and another….somewhere else…), one in Ontario Canada and one in Europe.  There are a few third party ice cream facilities in other locations but they license the right to make Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. The company was bought by Unilever some years ago now, but Ben & Jerry still own all creative and industrial rights or similar.  The partnership with Unilever just gives them more reach, I think.

I then continued on to Stowe, Vermont, where I camped at the Smuggler’s Notch State Park .  The sign-in wasn’t until 2pm so I continued on down the road to Mt. Mansfield ski area and took the gondola up to the peak (3645ft).  Hey, they still use pennies in the States. Cute!  They still have $2 bills in the States. Cute! They still use the Imperial system of measurements. Cute! (Exit 39 is in 3/10ths of a mile – Cute!).  But it was rainy up at the peak and so I didn’t stay long.  As I reached my car at the bottom, the clouds parted and the sun came out.  Right. Mountain weather.  Have I been so long away from the Rockies that that this had escaped me to utterly?  Returning to the campsite, I checked in and got myself organized, which took all of ten minutes. I breathed a huge sigh and sat back in the car, all doors open. I checked the clock: 3pm.  Should I lay there and allow myself to sleep? A nap always sounds like a good idea to me. I reached back and clutched my sleep pillow.  But suddenly I thought myself pathetic and tossed the pillow back  to the back and started up the car.  Not knowing where I was headed I left the campground and headed up 108 past Mt Mansfield further into Smuggler’s Notch road.  RVs and trucks were disallowed from using that road and I soon found out why. The twists and curves are amazing, with great shards of bedrock jutting up out of the pavement on both sides, insisting on hairpin curves to navigate them.  The speed limit was, laughably, 40mph (about 60kph).  I managed 25 or 30mph without dinging my vehicle anywhere with a collection of Vermonters increasingly belligerent behind me as they pilled up behind the ditzy Canuck. In general, I found Vermont drivers to be jerks, speed demons, and incredibly rude.  Such a contrast to their impeccable demeanour otherwise.  I found both New York Staters and Vermonters to be kind, friendly and warm.  But Vermont drivers were a-holes.

With my unwilling entourage behind me, I elected to pull over at the first opportunity and allow them the freedom for death that was their god-given right I suppose (license plates in New Hampshire, for example, read “Live free or Die” – is that stupid or what?).  The first opportunity happened to be right in the middle of the area of true road called the Notch, proper.  There were a few cars there already, and I immediately yanked into an open space.  The Notch, there, was only about 500 metres wide a few hundred meters up, and so I have a choice of blowing off some steam and getting the hike I didn’t know I needed on either one side or the other.  I chose badly at first, as the car side of the Notch was festooned with holders and rockfall that looked enticing for some scrambling, but in reality only lead to a lot of dead ends in crevices. Crestfallen and lugging my tripod and camera, I returned to the car thinking “f-“.  The opposite slope was wholly treed and seemed to offer only a steepish hike that sounded like it was covered with kids, and tired mums and dads.  While such company wasn’t objectionable, it wasn’t what I had in mind either.  Nevertheless, I started up the path and within seconds was huffing like a freight train. Whoa. It was hella-steep and full of roots and rocks to navigate on the trail. I put my back into it and was soon establishing a decent pace.  The others I occasionally passed were probably enjoying themselves more, as I steam-trained by them, eyes mainly on the ground.  It was humid and I was perspiring immensely – like a swimmer fresh out of the pool. Really. But I struck on, not even knowing where the trail lead, let alone having prepared for it. One fellow I asked suggested I had ten minutes or so left. Hah! Twenty it was, for sure. I didn’t know what was at the trail end until i saw that it was an alpine tarn – a Pond as the sign read. It was beautiful.  There was a Dutch family swimming in it when I arrived and shook off my shoes, stalking into it to dunk my head without so much as a hello. I was soaked like Id fallen in to it already long before I’d even reached the place. Everything I wore was damp and my breaths were sucking in droplets as quickly as they formed on my upper lip.  I couldn’t see properly for the rivulets that gathered in my eyes. I think I pushed things a little too hard in getting there.    : )

At 5:30 I decided it was getting long in the day and that it was time to return to the car. By then, the camera had been setup for a time-lapse set of images and had been clicking away contentedly for 20 minutes by itself. A mother with two young girls (6 and 8?) arrived and as we’d shared a couple of words on the way up, she seemed shocked I was leaving so soon.

“That’s a short time to hike all this way and take just a few pictures.”

“Well, 600 pictures, actually” I returned.

Her mouth hung open, and I could see that she had no reference for processing my remark, no information.  I smiled and continued back to the trail. I thought my legs would take revenge on me today (as that hike was yesterday), but I am remarkably free of any effects of that strenuous hike. “Huh, well and good”, I thought this morning.

Following are some images shot yesterday.