Vermont

“Our flight path took us right over Niagara Falls - I managed to get a couple of pictures of it from my window.”

As is often the case, I've let FAR too much time go by since the trip to work on a travel journal and my photos, but I DID take a few notes fairly soon after our return which I hope will help me fill in the blanks.

We had a seven-ish a.m. flight out of Mitchell Field. As usual, we were concerned about leaving our aging, chronically ill cat Chester at home alone, but Critter Sitters had always done a great job taking care of him in our absence so we tried not to be too nervous about it. Our plane was one of those Canada regional jets which, to me, feel like private planes like Carreidas' jet in that Tintin book. Our flight path took us right over Niagara Falls - I managed to get a couple of pictures of it from my window. On our approach to Boston, we flew out over the ocean and then back in over the harbor islands. I looked for George's Island which we'd visited a few years ago but didn't see it. I did, however, see a marvellousely creepy-looking ruined hospital or asylum on a small, wooded island.

Within a few feet of our baggage claim was the "scheduled" bus stop - the Dartmouth Coach was right on time and we settled in to the three hour ride which would take us to Hanover, New Hampshire. The film "Gravity" was showing on the monitors, but I elected to do crosswords and eat the melty remains of Paul's Cadbury Caramello bar. The drive is lovely - the latter part of it is the same stretch that Dad and I would always take on our way into the Connecticut River valley with spectacular views of the mountains.

“...we spent an hour or so exploring the museum's collections which include some fantastic artifacts from Mesopotamia...”

We descended from the bus at the stop just south of the Dartmouth green. John and I connected via text and we decided, on his recommendation, to spend some time in the Dartmouth art museum and then meet them at Murphy's pub just off the green. Leaving our bags in the cloakroom, we spent an hour or so exploring the museum's collections which include some fantastic artifacts from Mesopotamia including a set of massive Assyrian relief panels covered in cuneiform writing and bearded male figures.

We also very much enjoyed the American collection which includes some beautiful landscapes of the region including a view of Mount Washington by Kensett.

Over to Murphy's and our rendezvous with John and Carolyn. It was lovely to see them and to be back at Murphy's which, over the years, has become a tradition for us on our Vermont visits. We got outside some fish-and-chips and IPA and chatted up Nigel, the Kiwi owner of the establishment.

“An ongoing project for the week was an immense jigsaw puzzle wich was laid out on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.”

The drive to the house took us past some already familiar sights. Approaching the Fairlee exit, I caught a glimpse of the Silver Maple Lodge which is where Dad and I would stay on our visits to West Newbury over the last few years. The road to the house goes past a golf course at the south end of the lake and I remembered driving around the lake with Dad on our visit a couple of years before.

The house isn't right on the lake but in the hills above same. From the back yard of the house one can just see the water through the trees. It's a beautiful spot. The back lawn is fringed by flowerbeds with daylilies and (I think) milkweed and there are paper birches among the trees that surround the house. Paul and I were installed in the ground floor bedroom at one corner of the house - we had our own little deck which was perfect for morning coffee and reading.

The night we arrived we had a dinner of pizza from the Colatina Exit in Bradford. The following night, I drove up to West Newbury and collected Louise and Bill and brought them back for a big family dinner at the house. During the meal, I slipped upstairs and took a photo of the gathering from the loft room that John uses as an office. Later in the week we had another big meal again with Louise and Bill but we were also joined by John and Caroline Ninninger who live not far from West Newbury in a totally amazing log home designed and built by John. John is currently involved in the rebuilding of the Dartmouth Lodge on Mount Moosilauke which our family hiked on a prior visit a few years ago. John and Caroline, to our delight, are also cribbage players and we had a spirited game of same using a beautiful board designed and crafted by John.

An ongoing project for the week was an immense jigsaw puzzle wich was laid out on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. I put in a few hours on the puzzle during our stay, chatting with fellow puzzlers in front of the fire. Between excursions I managed to fit in some time reading the books that I had brought with me - a P.G. Wodehouse and (I think) H.P. Lovecraft short stories. The pinic table out on the back lawn was a favorite reading spot, as was the deck off the end of the house.

Beautiful hiking trails through the town forest lead practically to the door of the house.

I wasn't sure I had enough in the way of photos to justify having a separate section for the little hike we took starting on the path behind the house, but what the hell. We walked through the woods along a lovely little stream that went over a few tiny waterfalls in its course through the shallow ravine behind the house. There were lovely ferns, dense groves of trees, clearings, and a place where a fallen tree made an attractive arch over the path. Callie enjoyed herself very much indeed.

“...we paddled past the boys' camp with it's docks, sliding board, and (improbably) a Viking longship.”

On the Monday, Paul and Carolyn and I went for a paddle on the lake. We loaded three kayaks onto the Prius and drove down to the public boat launch not far from the house on the western shore of the Lake Morey. Carolyn took a brief dip in the water before we embarked. Setting off up the western side of the lake, we enjoyed the view of the surrounding hills and of the lakefront homes which dot the shore. The houses are all very different, quaint older ones rubbing elbows with big newer constructions. Near the northern end of the lake we paddled past the boys' camp with it's docks, sliding board, and (improbably) a Viking longship. On either side of the camp were some marshy areas with masses (fields?) of water lilies, both the white pointy ones and the yellow roundish ones. Many of the blooms had the cast-off husks of dragonfly nymphs who had decided to begin their adulthood in style. We also saw herons, loons, and a turtle which, startled by our approach, plopped into the water. After making our way down the eastern shore of the lake past many more vacation homes, we struck out across the middle to get back to our boat landing.

In the middle of the week, Paul and Graham and I went on another kayak excursion, this time to the south end of the lake. It was much windier that day and whitecaps were forming by the time we made it down to the beach. We found out, to our chagrin, that it wasn't permitted to land our boats on the beach, but Graham went for a brief swim while one of us kept his boat from drifting away. It was heavy going paddling back against the wind. The waves kept deflecting the bows away from our point. We were pretty wiped out once we got back.

“I can't remember if anyone actually shouted "swim, damn you, SWIM!"...”

It might have been later in the same windy day that John and Caroline Ninninger took us sailing. We met them at the launch after the boat had already been put in the water and their car and trailer parked in the little parking lot across the road. The boat is 25 feet or so long - John and Caroline have taken it out on the Atlantic off the coast of Maine. I can't remember if we had to swim out to the boat - on a later visit, we shuttled using kayaks. Hm. Anyway, we set out across the lake. Almost immediately we were going at a pretty good clip. I sat in the bows, bracing myself against the rail with my feet - the boat heeled over pretty far (a little TOO far for my landlubber tastes). John and Graham moved around - the former served as crew for Captain Ninninger. Paul, who would be the first to admit he isn't a seasoned sailor (or perhaps the second, after me), stayed in the cockpit, going below occasionally. After one particularly sudden coming about, I heard a huge racket of smashing crockery coming from the cabin. Paul emerged soon after that. John was a pretty nervy captain - we'd be fast approaching the shore, a dock, or a group of sailboats from the girls' camp and one of us would nervously inquire of him whether it was indeed time to come about. He'd give the order at what seemed like the last possible second.

The one order I was given was to jump overboard and push the rudder down all the way - it had come up a bit during the first part of the sail. I did so but had a bit of a time catching up with the already moving boat trying to get back to the stern ladder. I can't remember if anyone actually shouted "swim, damn you, SWIM!" but it happened at least in my imagination.

It really was rather exhilirating. The sun was flashing off our bow wave and the water sliding past the hull, cloud shadows were racing across the surface of the water and undulating over the wooded hills above the lake. The wind was stronger down the middle of the water. Often at the end of a tack closer to the shore, the wind would die down and we'd come about to catch the breeze again.

Carolyn and Caroline paddled out to meet us as we returned to the boat launch. We helped John get the boat back onto the trailer. It really was an exciting and enjoyable experience. Thank you, John and Caroline!

“Unfortunately, the beer harpies had already descended...”

Whichever day this was was designated as an excursion day. John had to stay at the house to get some work done, so Carolyn, Paul, Graham, and I set out on a quest for Heady Topper. Heady Topper is the Holy Grail of craft beer. It's made by the Alchemist brewing company and, at the time of our excursion, demand for it was so high that Alchemist had instituted an unusual distribution scheme: same-day announcements would be made informing the thirsty public where the brew would be available. We were placing our hopes on the Barre Beer Baron where, according to the announcement, Heady Topper would be available in limited quantities after one p.m. that day. Unfortunately, the beer harpies had already descended and there was no Heady Topper remaining. The proprietor informed us that they'd sold out their stock within minutes of zero hour.

So instead, we went the on-premise route and headed over to Waterbury and the Prohibition Pig Pub where we sat at a lovely table on the veranda and enjoyed a meat-and-cheese plate washed down with lashings of Heady Topper.

Saying farewell to The Pig, we drove over to the nearby Ben & Jerry's factory. I'd been on the tour once before AGES ago and was looking forward to seeing it again with Paul. It was pretty much how I remembered it. In the parking lot there's a crazy bus they used to use for promotional tours. Out front there's a nice patio with green and blue umbrellas where people can enjoy cones and shakes after the tour. The tour doesn't cover a whole lot of ground, but our enthusiastic young tourguide talked us through some company history and took us up to the second-floor viewing area where one can look through big windows into the factory floor and see the product being made. I've always liked the silly, punny names they came up with for flavors. I came up with two during the tour: "Guava Nagilah" and "Philip S'More Hoffman" - a tribute flavor. The free sample flavor of the day was "caramel". Delicious. I had more than my share. After the tour let out, we made some purchases in the gift shop and then made our way outside to the little shop counter on the patio. I got a pomegranate smoothie which was good, if a little cloying.

I have it in my notes that we then drove down to Murphy's in Hanover where we met John for a meal. It must have been on another night that we went to the Norwich Inn for dinner. We had planned to got to Wotsit's Bistro (can't remember the name) but that was under new management and was either not open or not a good choice for some reason. The Norwich Inn was fantastic. It's kind of a spooky-looking building with one of those truncated haunted-house style towers in front. We waited for a table at a table outside on the patio under a lovely arbor sort of thing. We ate dinner at a different outdoor table closer to the side of the building. After dinner, Graham played a couple of tunes on an outdoor piano in the walkway between the Inn and a local store. Funny.

“Magic Hat, a Vermont favorite of Graham's was the brew of choice.”

Carolyn, Paul, Graham, and I went on a kayaking jaunt down the Connecticut River on one of the days. John didn't go with us but he helped with the shuttling. We put in at Bradford in a park just east of the main street. While getting our stuff ready, we chatted with an older gentleman who was in the process of launching what he described as a "Ted Williams Sears Catalog Boat". It meant nothing to me so I looked it up afterwards. Apparently, Sears had signed baseball great Ted Williams to be a celebrity spokesperson for the their line of outdoor recreation equipment. I was reminded of the Minear's old house in West Newbury where we stayed a few times and which was a Sears Catalog house.

We made our way through the waterways near Bradford, under the railroad bridge and out onto the river proper. The current was pretty slow - the times when we pulled our boats together to take a break we drifted only very slowly. The scenery was very beautiful. Every turn in the river revealed a majestic prospect. We saw some some beautiful houses up in the hills near the river, waterfalls in little hollows along the shoreline, a herd of cows drinking at the river's edge, and the amazing cliffs (I thought of the "Cliffs of Insanity" from "The Princess Bride") just upstream of Fairlee.

As is our custom (Paul's and my custom, anyway) we made sure to bring a beer each for a celebratory on-water toast near the end of the paddle. Magic Hat, a Vermont favorite of Graham's was the brew of choice. The last landmark on our trip was the beautiful arched bridge between Fairlee and Orford, New Hampshire. We lingered for a while admiring the span. John met us at the takeout point in Orford and we drove across the same bridge to Joe's Scoops in Fairlee for maple soft-serve. Fantastic.

“We were reunited at the summit which was totally enshrouded in fog.”

Miranda, who took our breakfast orders at the "Local Buzz" in Bradford, was so taken with my shriek of joy on seeing the fresh dooughnuts that she gave me one of same for free. We were there to fuel up for the day's activity which was a hike up Mount Ascutney, a local prominence a few miles from where we were staying. Miranda acquainted us with the "Local Buzz" tradition of allowing tipping customers to participate in a poll on various subjects. The day's question was "River or Lake". I forget which way I went on that. Probably "Lake".

As we got out of the car in the parking lot at the base of the Ascutney hiking trail, we could see that the weather was getting greyer and greyer. The entrance to the trail had the feel of a dark doorway. I remember wondering whether things would go well. Things went poorly fairly early on. I, dumbass that I am, decided to walk across a certain terrace of a waterfall, slipped, and sat down hard in the water coursing over the rocky shelf. I very nearly went over the edge which would probably have put me in the hospital. As it was, I just got the seat of my pants wet. John, however, took a bad step on the trail a few minutes later and twisted his ankle. He decided to hobble back to the parking lot and to drive up and meet us at the parking area close to the summit.

We encountered a couple of other parties walking back down the trail as we ascended. We said "hello" to a friendly young chap who was maintaining the trail and to a rather older chap who told us that the large mushrooms we had seen had pores, not gills, and lived in a symbiotic relationship with the white pines.

There was another lovely waterfall further up. We stopped there for a while to eat some of the food we'd brought and to give Callie a chance to enjoy the rock pool. Up we went and the weather got darker and more threatening. After a few booms of thunder, it started to rain fairly steadily. What with the rain, mist, and occasional rumble of thunder, I half expected to round the next corner on the trail and see the Knights of Ni. John gave us a call and confirmed that he'd meet us at the parking lot near the summit. At some point, half the party got well ahead and our half of the party became concerned about whether we had perhaps missed a turn at some point. The trail map in my back pocket was no longer of much use, having been reduced to a pulpy mass by the rain. I found a hair scrunchie on the path which turned out to belong to Carolyn and we took that as a good sign.

We were reunited at the summit which was totally enshrouded in fog. No sweeping view for us that day. On seeing the car, Callie broke into a run and dived into the back. She'd had enough. John drove us down the winding road from the summit and we decided to make a stop at the covered bridge at Windsor. It's a beautiful bridge - the longest in Vermont, if memory serves. There's a great sign above the entrance about walking one's horse. I walked into the weeds at the side of the road to get a photo from the side of the bridge - as I came back to the road, I saw the sign facing away from the river was a poison ivy warning. Nice. Nothing happened so I must have missed it or maybe I'm not sensitive to urushiol.

We rounded out the day with another visit to Murphy's in Hanover. Carolyn, Paul, Graham nipped out to buy shirts to change into. I wasn't fussed - wet clothes don't bother me that much. I'm a Marsh Man, don't you know. Drops from the eaves or whatever.

“While waiting for them to pick us up outside of South Station I saw a Morgan Three-Wheeler go by.”

The end of family visits are always sad for me. Graham drove us down to Hanover to catch the Dartmouth Coach to Boston. As a consolation prize, we'd arranged to meet our friends Heidi and Henry in Boston and spend the afternoon together before going to Logan to catch our plane. While waiting for them to pick us up outside of South Station I saw a Morgan Three-Wheeler go by. Crazy.

H and H suggested exploring and lunching in the warehouse district. We walked along the streets and quays admiring the restored buildings, the boats, and a beautiful old ship in the harbor. Lunch was fantastic - one of the best fish frys I've ever had (tantamount to heresy on the part of a Wisconsinite). After lunch we drove to the Boston Harbor Distillery and took the tour of that facility. What a beautiful operation they have there. The building is an airy, vaulted arrangement with wonderful old-style maritime lamp fixtures. The company distills a line of spirits, each named for one of the industries that previously occupied that location in the harbor: horse hoof nails, boats, ice cream.

Chester was very grumpy indeed when we got home - our departure was delayed by 2.5 hours.