Day 65. Ticonderoga to Hancock, VT, 45 miles

I left the Brookwood RV Resort around 8:30 and began what was essentially a four-mile descent back to the route. (Expensive, bad showers, AND off route. But beer!) There was a cemetery that had caught my eye on the way in (Have I mentioned I love cemeteries? So quiet and peaceful.), so I stopped there even thought I was literally five minutes into my ride. I truly am taking my time, stopping in gas stations, at the tops of hills, at cemeteries and parks whenever I feel like it.

What had originally called my attention was a beautiful pale pink flowering tree, a hydrangea, I think? It was the only flowering plant in the place, and I was curious about whom it shaded and sheltered.

There was a birdhouse hanging from it, and it overhung the graves of what I assume are a mother and daughter, with a space for the granddaughter who would eventually join them. It was startlingly moving.

As I wandered around, another gravesite caught my eye; it had elaborate ornamentation, creating a shrine-like feel.

After a nice sit, I made way back to Ticonderoga, where the last map section of my trip begins. It is a Very Historic Place (and, of course, home to the Ticonderoga pencil).

There were also some nice-enough falls, but I paused only briefly because a way more fun water feature was coming up: a ferry across Lake Champlain!

While I waited for the ferry, I used the available facilities to dry my tent and towel.

After a too-short ride (it’s a cable crossing—not exactly an epic journey), I was in Vermont.

Vermont! My heart swells with VT. I ride through green hills and sweet towns, Middlebury-bound. Leaving Middlebury I’ll have one of my two big eastern climbs to the Middlebury Gap, which I’ve been hearing warnings about since Washington. I alternate between intimidation and arrogance (it’s only 2500 feet!), knowing neither feeling serves me: it’s gonna come and be what it is, and I’m going to climb it. In the meantime, I enjoy views and snacks.

I love Vermont. It’s utterly charming and quirky, all dark greens, deep blues, and cool shade. Eastern upstate NY had resonated deeply within my heart and memory; we spent good chunks of childhood summers on driving vacations there, and the names of the towns all echoed familiar. But Vermont is one of my favorite places, with its maple syrup and snow and hippie vibe. I exclaimed aloud my love for the place, and it gave me a Green Mountain with what I am later told is a 15% grade on its opening volley. It’s “only” 12% on the other side, so I have doubts, but the first part of the climb was brutal. I had to walk two short stretches of the most extremely-graded portions, and it was a long and sweaty climb.

I passed through Bread Loaf, the Middlebury College graduate writing campus, which felt a little eerie, with its matching buildings and completely deserted streets: no people, no businesses. Just large yellow houses with green trim, looking like the set of a horror movie before night falls.

The gap came with no sign or marker, only this indicator that the deed was done.

And indeed it was a steep, fast glide—33 mph max—halfway down the slope to Little Emma’s Sweet Retreat, a small private campground run by an older couple. They showed me around and pointed me to a path down to the river, which, after setting up, I went to explore.

I also spent some time with Bumpus the dog and Duncan and Teddy the donkeys.

It was a lovely place.

Jamie, the veteran cyclist I met by Seventh Lake, had warned me it was very damp, likely because of its location in the valley, but it was, given the miles I wanted to do, the only place to stay. And indeed by the time I was bedding down for the night my tent had a gloss of dew that already come up. But! I had suddenly realized the day before that a high school friend, Katrina, lives in Vermont very near where I’d be staying and had gotten in touch with her and was going to see her tomorrow! She’d kindly offered to pick me up in Thetford and ferry me to her place and back in the morning, and I was very excited about spending time with her. We texted a bit about details, and then I called it a night.