Friday, September 6th – Saturday, September 7th, 2019
Pretending to be happy and content when you’re really feeling miserable and itching to escape is exhausting! Not to sound ungrateful. Life back in “the real world” ain’t so bad, but I feel like a fish out of water. I feel like I’m suffocating.
My time slinging bagels has come to an end… for now. We’re finally venturing north to the Green Mountains! My childhood friends, Emily and Robby are doing the classic Vermont beer tour for Emily’s birthday and on the way, they’re shipping us, and Middle Brother, to the Canadian border to start the Long Trail.
We loaded up the car and left a little after 3:30 in the morning from Baltimore. We wanted to tackle that Philadelphia and New York City traffic before it got too congested. Getting through New York took some time, per usual, but once we pushed through, it was smooth sailing through New England.
Our first stop was Brattleboro, a little hippy town in southern Vermont with a huge outdoor store, galleries, three breweries, and a bunch of small shops with everything from thrifty fashion to bicycles. We only visited two of the breweries, Hermit Thrush which is known for their sours, and Whetstone Station which Frisbee and I visited last time we drove through Vermont. The third wouldn’t be open until late in the day.
We ended up eating well at Whetstone Station which sits along the Connecticut River. They have super dank burgers and funny signage hidden throughout the building. The first one you’ll likely see follows the “Please Wait to be Seated” sign:
“While you wait enjoy some fun facts: Cenosillicaphobia is the fear of an empty glass. If you’ve got that – we’ve got you covered. Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words. If you’ve got that, we apologize for this sign.”
We strolled around town for a few hours before hitting the road. Next stop was the village of Putney where we stopped by Hidden Springs Maple to sample some 100% natural and organic maple syrup.
Next stop was Lincoln, New Hampshire, a place Frisbee and I passed through when we hiked the Appalachian Trail (AT) in 2017. Middle Brother was hiking behind us at the time and was booking it through the White Mountains. He’d catch up with us soon afterwards at one of the huts after Franconia Ridge.
Lincoln is a tiny resort town that caters more to skiers than hikers, so we hung out at One Love Brewery before calling it a day at an Air BnB up the road. It had been a long one and most of us had been running on fumes and coffee.