Vacation 2013: Southern Vermont

Middlebury College

After seeing Williamstown, I crossed into Vermont towards Bennington, where I would spend the night. Right away I could tell things had changed. It was like Baytown picked up and moved en masse to Vermont. Trailer yards, muffler shops, overgrown yards, deteriorating houses, abandoned buildings...this place makes Crosby seem like Paris. Ironically, the scenery surpasses Western Massachusetts. Higher, greener, and more frequent hills. More waterways. A cleaner, crisper smell in the air. And the town itself mirrored this aesthetic. Dirty, dilapidated, junky...just a real pit. I saw a Buick Reata and a Pontiac Fiero within about 500 yards of one another. I'd have taken photos but was scared a pit bull would attack if I got too close. So I just spent the night there in a Best Western, and got a chance in moving around to see Benningtonians. And, wow. Just really amazing. You remember our catatonic friend with the spooky stare from the Florida-South Carolina game last season?

Yeah, that guy could get elected Mayor here. The desk clerk was like Andy Dick's character in Road Trip. I used to make my mother laugh by making a similar face and saying that's how everyone from Arkansas looks. That night I drove to North Bennington (like there was any real difference) to the only sports bar in town and watched the Longhorns throw up all over themselves against BYU. It was one of those "everybody knows your name" kind of places (probably the town was as well), and they didn't know my name. A lesbian country duo replete with buzz cuts and wife beaters, no doubt fresh from the bowling alley or Home Depot, was playing some really good songs. After the BYU quarterback started ripping off long runs in which the Longhorn secondary couldn't tackle him, I eventually became more interested in them than the Texas game. That's how well the Longhorns are doing these days.

The next morning I drove over to Brattleboro. This afforded me the opportunity to view Bennington in daylight. It did not disappoint. Meaning that houses had junk piled in front, at least one store advertising "Cuban reject cigars" (whatever that is), at least two houses with the top story painted a different color than the bottom, and about five abandoned gas stations. Its just like Beverly Hills, only exactly the opposite.

 The road travels through the Green Mountain National Forest, with excellent views and many leaves already starting to turn red. So many maple trees lined the route I could tell the colors will explode in a couple weeks. The road followed a river much of the way. Wilmington, about midway between the two towns, is itself a nice little town as well. I saw "Maple Syrup" signs all along the way, as well as on later drives. These people really like their maple syrup. Practically every restaurant has several "maple" ingredients as a component in salads or entrees, and all the tourists shops sell it in multiple sizes. You can buy two gallon maple syrup containers, for example. Of course, if you do, you might want to work on your commitment to fitness. It reminded me of Wedding Crashers, and the "emerging maple syrup conglomerate" scene. "I happen to know everything there is to know about maple syrup!"

Martja had said Brattleboro would be much more interesting, and she nailed it.  Brattleboro sits on the Connecticut  River. The historic downtown features some interesting shops and restaurants, and some unusually funky bars and such. The town has restored many of the buildings and the downtown area seems vibrant. It's comprised of a number of older brick buildings, and has something of a Strand feel. There's an old bridge running across the river with a pedestrian walkway, offering great views of the River. I had a light salad and watched the hundreds of tourists walk the town.  The gray rainy morning had given way to an absolutely perfect day and everyone was enjoying it. Brattleboro obviously has more resources and affluence than Bennington and the southwest corner of Vermont. These people aren't catatonic. In fact, they seem reasonably normal (except for living in a state that has elected an avowed socialist to Congress for more than 20 years). I did, however, see a little kid playing on the sidewalk as I explored more of the town, wearing a Cowboys jersey. A Cowboys jersey. Let that sink in. Some little Vermont boy, running around in the yard with his buddies, was wearing a Cowboys jersey. A team that has won one less playoff game than the Houston Texans in the last 20 years, despite the Texans being a team for only half that time. Five seems a little early to condemn someone to a lifetime of misery and frustration. Meanwhile, a high concentration of hippies and New Agers had descended upon the Brattleboro Food Coop. Imagine a big Whole Foods where the workers are considerably less pretentious and douchy. But filled with slackers. I haven't seen that much tie dye since the last time I was in Haight Ashbury.

From there I headed north along the river and passed several old covered bridges. Eventually the road runs through a ski area, with small ski towns obviously waiting for the first snows to fall. The road winds up at Route 7 and Manchester. That's where all the money is. Manicured lawns, huge estates, expensive stores, yoga studios, designer chocolates, you know the drill. Oddly, a number of outlet stores have located here, albeit in buildings that completely blend in with their neighbors. I passed through the town to see Mount Equinox, which provides 360 degree views of southern Vermont, northern Massachusetts, and north eastern New York. A Catholic monastery order (I'm sure that's not the right terminology, but hopefully you get the gist) owns the property and maintains a private toll road to the summit. They've also built a viewing facility at the top. It takes about 15 minutes to make the full drive. They also have hiking trails, but as the trail would ascend about 5,000 feet, and it was getting close to sunset, I opted for the car.

As the sun set I headed north toward Burlington on Route 7. I passed through Rutland, which was hosting the Vermont State Fair. It appeared packed. I considered stopping but of course it was no doubt full of my non-equals, and I had no desire to eat cotton candy and fried twinkies, so I pushed ahead toward Middlebury. Farms lined the main road outside these towns, and it passed through the Green Mountains. In the setting sun, the emerald green fields and surrounding heights reminded me of Ireland. I went to high school with this girl, whose name I absolutely can't remember, who wore a "Middlebury College" t-shirt what seemed like every other day. I always thought that was a little odd, but for some reason it stuck with me. So I thought I'd check out the campus. That proved a good decision, because Middlebury College has a really fantastic campus. I'd even say "charming" (a word that normally makes me ill). Most buildings use light gray stone and appear quite old. The sun was rapidly setting in the distance and it bathed the campus in a nice glow. At the same time, a crescent moon was rising over the mountains. Apparently they were holding "welcome students" festivities, because campus was buzzing. Students were walking everywhere, though it was a Sunday night.

From there I made it that night to Burlington. Where I'll pick up next time.