|
This thing was in one corner of our room at the Inn. |
Jet lag is usually defined as a disruption of sleeping and eating routines brought on by crossing multiple time zones very quickly. If you leave off the timezone part, I think what we experienced this morning qualifies as jet lag. Instead of crossing time zones, we have crossed latitudes, where the sun sets much later, and rises much earlier. At 5:00 AM I was wide awake, and my only thought was that it would be three hours until coffee arrived.
We got ready for the day, and our breakfast eventually arrived at 8:00. Included with the coffee were break, and two phenomenal muffins made with whole nuts and berries. Suitably caffinated and fed, we headed out. The plan was to drive and explore, since this was to be one of the hottest days of our stay.
|
Second Empire Victorian Style. Note symmetry, towers, and mansard roofline. |
We first headed north/northeast on highway 7 out of Middlebury. The route took us through the tiny towns of Brooksville, New Haven, and Vergennes. At Vergennes, we took highway 22 southeast toward Addison, passing more large dairies with huge barns and Victorian farm homes with Gothic filigree woodwork. Both of us remarked how similar Vermont is to the Skagit Valley of Washington State, which also has large farms and Victorian architechture. It occured to us that even though we had driven many miles, we had seen no Walmarts, no large supermarkets, and every corner wasn’t occupied with a quick shop. According to our AAA guidebook, in 1970 Vermont passed the Environmental Control Law, which allows the state to limit development that might harm the environment, and in 1986 the Growth management Law, which sets statewide goals to protect natural resources and promote land preservation. Those laws seem to be working perfectly, because the the rural feel of Vermont is unmatched by just about any other place I’ve been.
At Addison we headed east, and on to the bridge that crosses Lake Champlain into New York State. Across the lake, the Crown Point Lighthouse and Chimney Point historic area could be found south and north of the bridge, respectively. We collected a few maps at the visitors center, then headed southward to Ticonderoga. As we drove further into New York, we noticed a distinct change in topography and architecture. The rural nature persisted, but there seemed to be fewer large dairies. There were apple orchards, lending the state it’s nickname. At one point, we were passed by a huge number of motorcycles, fortunately heading on the opposite direction. We were to see clusters of them for most of the day. The road stayed just within view of Champlain until it reached the town of Ticonderoga.
|
Fort Ticonderoga |
Ticonderoga is a name I’ve heard many times, with only a vague awareness of its existence as a Revolutionary War era fort. Oddly enough, I’ve most often heard it in connection with the name of a ship, specifically, starships in both the movie Starship Troopers and in Star Trek, Next Generation. The fort itself sits on a prominant overlook of Lake Champlain. It was built by the French to prevent British incursions northward, captured by the British, captured by the Americans during the Revolution, then finally recaptured by the British. It still offers spectacular views of the lake, but we declined the high admission fee to tour the fort proper. We drove on around the penninsula down to the ferry that crosses the lake, then headed back to the namesake town. The town of Ticonderoga overlooks a waterfall on the La Chute River, and is similar to the other towns we have seen in Vermont. We wanted to drive to the top of Mount Defiance, which has an incredible view of the lake and fort, but it was closed for the motorcycle event.
|
Remains of the USS Ticonderoga. Strange. It doesn’t LOOK like a starship. |
Highway 22 south from Ticonderoga was quite scenic, skirting the edge of the mountains, while mostly staying within view of Champlain. Eventually, we reached the town of Whitehall, and since it was lunchtime, we pulled in to find a bite. The town is known as the birthplace of the US Navy, because it was here that Benedict Arnold organized a fleet of ships to battle the British on Lake Champlain. The town now has many historic buildings, but not much else. There appeared to be tremendous potential, but most of the incredible buildings are unoccupied and in need of repair. We crossed the Champlain Canal and circled through town, running into more motorcycles, but not finding food. We did find a display describing the canal lock in town, and the remains of the USS Ticonderoga. Still no food, and every place we tried looked very seedy, or closed.
We left Whitehall heading east on highway 4, and were soon crossing the East Bay River back into Vermont and the town of Fairhaven. This town was only marginally more active than Whitehall, but it did have a McDonalds. Again, we were reminded of the lack of national fast food joints that seem to be on every street corner in our area. It would have been nice to find local cuisine, but in a pinch, a Big Mac will do.
Suitably nourished, we continued on Highway 4 to Rutland. This was a a much larger city, and even though it had such things as McDonalds and K-Marts, it still retained its historic architecture and unique houses. The city apparently gained affluence because of the nearby marble quarries. We made an incorrect turn and wound up in a K-Mart parking lot. Since we were there, we went in a purchased a cheap pair of binoculars, since we had left ours at home.
We were on the right path soon enough, and Laura spied an antiquarian book dealer, so we had to stop. I collect antique hymnals, so I’m always on the lookout for old book stores. I had already done an online search, and found that there is actually an antiquarian book sellers association in Vermont. Tuttle Antiquarian Books had an incredible selection of oblong tune books, although none of them were shaped note. The prices were quite reasonable, too. I picked out two oblong books from the late 1800’s, one small Sunday School songbook from about the same time, and a church hymnal from 1912 with a beautifully embossed Celtic cross on the cover. Laura stopped me before I could buy out their entire collection, and I made arrangements to have my new purchases shipped home.
From Rutland we headed east on Highway 4, up over the southern tip of the Green Mountains, and through one of Vermont’s many ski resort areas. Again, we passed through several quaint villages with white frame churches and Gothic architecture. One thing I noticed that many of these have in common is a village green or square, with a building that looks like a church, known as the “town building”, I guess where meetings are held. Some of them do actually have congregations that meet there. We quickly passed through the towns of Bridgewater and Woodstock (not THAT Woodstock.) Laura and I commented on how these place names tend to get used over and over again – Manchester, Woodstock, Dresden, etc.
|
Taftsville Covered Bridge |
At Taftsville, we turned onto a marginally paved road that took us over a covered bridge. Our target was the Sugarbush Farm, where they make cheese and maple syrup. The paving gave way to dirt, which turned out to be easier to manage than the broken pavement. We continued up this tiny road for several miles until we reached the farm. The farm itself is owned by a family named Luce, and it is an unassuming place. One room in their house was being used to package the cheddar cheese made there. They gave us samples of many of their cheeses, and of four different grades of maple syrup made at the farm. We remarked on the curious color of the cheddar, and the fact that it wasn’t yellow. We were inform that cheddar is naturally white, and is only dyed that color to make it stand out from other cheeses. Weird. We viewed a short video on maple production, then looked at the small syrup production facilities, then returned to the house to purchase some of the wares for ourselves and our cat sitters. Even though AAA mentioned this as being “free”, having once sampled their products, there is no way to get out without buying something. As we drove back down the hill, I thought that during winter snows this place must be very isolated.
|
Quechee Falls |
Back on 4, and soon we were in the town of Quechee. Another quaint covered bridge led us into the village proper, and we turned into the shop of Stephen Pierce, glassblower. The shop had wonderful examples of glassblowing, and we hoped to see a demonstration, but it was not to be. We wandered back out and looked over the falls right below the village, then returned to the car to explore. It occured to us that this is one of the first planned developments we’ve seen in Vermont. Housing is going in around a golf course, but it is nothing like the Creeks in our area (Pebble Creek, Sugar Creek, etc.)
We had seen about all we could see in the village, so we stopped just outside of town to view the Quechee Gorge and walk over the bridge that crosses it, then headed on our way. Highway 4 intersected with Interstate 89, and soon we were crossing the Connecticut River into New Hampshire and the city of Lebanon. All day, my sense of scale has been scrambled. The maps we are using are show a very large scale for a relatively tiny state. What would appear to be many miles from the VT/NH border to Lebanon on the maps I’m accustomed to using turned out to be just a short hop. It was only a slightly longer hop up to Hanover, home to Dartmouth College.
We timed it so as to hit Lebanon right at rush hour, so the drive to Hanover was stop-n-go with long lines of cars. While in traffic, I had time to ponder choice I had made in high school. I had actually completed an application to attend Dartmouth, but when I got a scholarship to Furman I didn’t bother to send it in. I can’t help but wonder how things would have been different if I had come all the way up here for school.
Hanover appeared to be a typical small university town, so we decided to look for the eclectic eateries that tend to follow college students. We drove into the main part of town, which overlooks the main quad for the college. We battled the traffic through main street, and before we knew it we were heading back across the river into Vermont and the little hamlet of Norwich. Not having found anything here, we turned around, and eventually found suitable food at a student dive named Molly’s.
Back across the river, down I-91 to I-89, then eastward. The interstate took us past several more small villages where we looked down on church spires and more interesting architecture. The White River kept us company all along the road, and stayed with us when we left the interstate for Highway 107 and the town of Bethel. Eastward, the road headed further into the Green Mountains to the village of Stockbridge, where we turned north onto Highway 100. The roads so far had followed lush green valleys surrounded by the mountains. The lack of national chain stores (even though I like that) gives the area an even more isolated feel. We stopped briefly in the town of Rochester, then continued northward along the White River, which, by this time was a small stream.
|
My “cliche shot” for Texas Falls. |
At Hancock we turned west onto Highway 125. Once again, my sense of scale failed me. I thought the trip across the Green Mountains would take forever, and it would be quite dark and late when we got to the other side. The roadsign indicated only 15 miles to East Middlebury. Finally, the road started to ascend higher into the mountains. At one point, we stopped to look at Texas Falls, a small series of cataracts that run through several rock chutes. After the falls, we soon reached Middlebury Pass at 2100 ft, and were headed down the other side. Even though it was almost 9:00 PM, the sun on the west side of the mountains turned the trees a spectacular golden orange. As we descended, we kept our eyes open for moose, but were only able to spot one deer.
Before long, we were in East Middlebury and on roads we had travelled before. We came into the B&B and collapsed from our travels.