After a very busy summer filled with far more work than I would’ve liked, Morgan and I snuck away for a long weekend of bikepacking up in Vermont. Late September is my favorite time of year, the perfect intersection of chilly but not too cold with plenty of fall foliage.
The route we elected to ride was borrowed from Bikepacking.com with a bit of adaptation to change the start point and stop for camping where we wanted to – after Labor Day, a bunch of state campgrounds close for the season, which limited our options a bit. We drove up after breakfast on Friday and loaded up bikes at a Park & Ride near 91, ready for our first day of riding.
The first few miles of our route followed a relatively busy county road, but drivers were far more respectful and considerate than we anticipated. Maybe it has something to do with a slower pace of life, maybe it’s a result of more folks being into outdoor recreation. Either way, spirits were high as our bike computers told us to take a right turn onto a quaint forest path.
We rode along for a bit, soft earth dampening noise made by our spinning tires meeting the ground. Sometimes chatting, other times sitting comfortably in silence, we moved ahead with no clear pace or sense of urgency, moving exactly as fast or slow as felt good in each moment. Time passed slowly and quickly and we stopped at a country store for campfire beers before riding the last few miles to camp.
We rolled into the state park that was to be our home for the night, accidentally entering from the back while following our route. We rode through the campground to the front gate to check in, placing a rear-view mirror tag on my handlebars (which I in no way needed to do but loved doing). After dropping off bikes holding everything we owned in that moment at our lean-to, we walked down to the lake for a brisk swim, then back to the site for hot dinner, followed by cold beer, followed by hot tea.
The next morning, we crawled out of warm sleeping bags and packed up bikes for a full day of riding. The first few miles were a mix of incredibly sandy, making movement slow and laborious, and completely washed out. Starting the day expending a lot of energy to move at a painfully slow pace is never fun. Eventually we made it into town for a brief stop at a flower farm and a less brief stop at the local general store for more coffee and snacks.
After adding caffeine and sugar to our bellies with even more for our pockets, we started a long, steep climb that would end up taking a couple hours in total. Our bikes never felt heavier, but in low gear we were able to make slow and steady progress uphill. Midway up we stopped to sightsee at the Cabot Cheese factory, whose visitor’s center was an unfortunate permanent casualty of the pandemic.
We made it to the top of the climb and relaxed near a picturesque covered bridge. A local who was taking landscape photos nearby told us the AM Foster bridge was a recreation of a different historic bridge built on private property but open to the public. Now over a quarter century old, the bridge will eventually be historic itself I suppose, which is an interesting thought.
He also told us about the cemetery across the road, which was up until recently home to a maple tree planted by the Civilian Conservation Corps nearly 200 years ago. The tree fell down last year and was given it’s own headstone of sorts along the border of the cemetery.
Rolling out from the literal high point of our weekend, we passed more remote farms and plenty of cows living on sloped, forested pastures, which felt unique to me – I feel like I’ve only ever seen cows in flat, empty fields.
The next section of riding brought us back closer to civilization but was probably the most challenging of the trip. We were feeling tired and our planned late lunch at a local brewery was just further than we would’ve preferred. Regardless, we made it the last few miles and enjoyed deserved food and liquid carbs.
Tired and sore, we rode the rest of the way back to the car, stopping for snacks and rest at nearly every chance. Eventually we made it back, satisfied with a successful day of moving our legs around in circles. Vermont is my least visited New England state and I’ve never been to this part of it at all. I had a lovely time and hope to find an excuse to return soon.
Morgan had booked us a remote cabin to stay in following our trip so we wouldn’t have to immediately head back home, but hilariously she accidentally booked an off grid cabin with no electricity or running water. After a long five minutes down a narrow one lane gravel road, we pulled the car over next to the cabin and moved our few bags inside.
We didn’t get the showers we wanted that night, but the peace and sea of stars we got in exchange were well worth it. We settled in for a quiet night, grateful for the cozy lofted mattress.
In the morning light, we were able to get a better sense of our surroundings. The view from the toilet was exquisite. The outdoor shower up the hill at our hosts’ house was hot and refreshing. Morgan took a bath in a secluded clawfoot tub looking out on the forest that had held us for the weekend.
Eventually, we eased back into reality, packing our things into the car and beginning the drive back south. Distance passed much quicker when our movement was powered by ancient dinosaurs rather than our legs making use of that morning’s breakfast. I feel like it’s important to recognize when it’s important to move fast to get to my destination, but once I’m there, I need to make time and space to slow down and enjoy small moments that make life valuable.