48 miles
North Hatley, Quebec, to Brighton State Park, Vermont
As we were checking out of the chocolate inn the owner suggested a route along back roads that got us to the highway for Coaticook. Once on the highway we hit some fantastic riding. With its wide smooth shoulder and slightly rolling hills, we cruised along, enjoying the lack of rain under a brightly lit, albeit overcast sky, a cool breeze keeping the temperature perfect for riding. Everything around us was green - corn, trees, weeds. And then we'd come upon a splash of color - a red barn, a field of yellow wildflowers, a smidgeon of blue sky. By now Rob and I had found our rhythm and were mostly riding close together. I knew there was nowhere else I would rather be, nothing else I would rather be doing at that moment. And then it got even better.
We'd only gone about 15 or 20 miles when we came to the Coaticook Dairy. Its gigantic building just sucked me into its parking lot. That happens when I'm bicycle touring. Anything faintly resembling something delicious and I just can't help myself. My bicycle turns into the parking lot before I know what has happened. It doesn't matter that I had chocolate crepes for breakfast. It doesn't matter that I've barely ridden enough miles to have earned a treat. This was ice cream and any time ice cream steps in front of me, I'd be a fool to pass it up.
I should point out, if you haven't noticed by now after following this blog, that I'm usually the one who initiates the stops. That's because since Rob came down with pulmonary hypertension I generally ride in front so I get first pick of places to stop. Rob hasn't once complained about my choices. And he'll never turn down ice cream. I knew that.
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| This is obviously a big-time ice cream operation. I am happy to report that my vanilla ice cream cone was top-notch. |
We'd decided to make our way back to Vermont through Coaticook because we'd heard that there was a must-see gorge in the town. It wasn't. I guess it's worth seeing if you don't get out much, but we were unimpressed. Still, if we'd passed it by we probably would have worried that we'd missed something special.
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| Not exactly the Grand Canyon, is it? Fortunately the entry fee only set us back $15 (Canadian) for the two of us. |
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| But there was a very cool suspension bridge. |
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| Our stop at the gorge wasn't a total loss. A restaurant right next door had outdoor seating in a beautiful garden. We stopped for a tea and literature break. |
Then it was on to the border crossing and into Vermont. You may remember from a previous post that I have generally found the Canadian border crossing guards to be friendlier than the Americans but that this time entering Canada the guy was a little annoying. Still, my generalization holds. There's a question on the border security guard application form that asks, "Do you enjoy being mean to people?" The correct answer is yes.
Here's what happened. As we approached the booth, there was a sign that said, "Have your passports ready." But before we could stop and get out our passports, the guy at the booth waved us on so we proceeded ahead. When we were at the booth he said, "Stay on your bikes."
Now of course you know that if you stop and don't get off your bike you're going to fall over. So we couldn't take him literally. I guessed he meant that we should just take our butts off our seats, keeping our feet on either side of the bike. Hopefully you get the picture. We both did that. Then he said, "I need your passport." And that presented a problem. For Rob, not for me.
My passport was in my handlebar pack. I could get it out without moving my feet. But Rob doesn't have a handlebar pack. His passport was in his pannier and he couldn't get it without swinging his leg over his crossbar and as soon as he did that the border crossing guard yelled, "Stay on your bike!"
Rob is a people pleaser. He didn't say anything, just grabbed his passport, which fortunately was easily accessible, quickly got back on his bike, and handed his passport to the guy.
As Mr. Nice Guy handed us back our passports I said, "How about, Welcome back home to the United States? Did you have a nice vacation in Canada?"
He said, "I'm just doing my job."
"Well you could be a little nicer about it," I said, and I took off.
For some reason I expected that once we got back to Vermont we'd hit hills and some hard riding. But to my delight, the hills were rolling, just enough for terrific downhills. We came to the town of Island Pond and found it to be bigger than we expected of a town this far north. It had an adequate grocery store where we stopped and picked up a couple hard lemonades before riding on to Brighton State Park where, with rain in the forecast, we paid extra for a site with a lean-to.
Here's what happened. As we approached the booth, there was a sign that said, "Have your passports ready." But before we could stop and get out our passports, the guy at the booth waved us on so we proceeded ahead. When we were at the booth he said, "Stay on your bikes."
Now of course you know that if you stop and don't get off your bike you're going to fall over. So we couldn't take him literally. I guessed he meant that we should just take our butts off our seats, keeping our feet on either side of the bike. Hopefully you get the picture. We both did that. Then he said, "I need your passport." And that presented a problem. For Rob, not for me.
My passport was in my handlebar pack. I could get it out without moving my feet. But Rob doesn't have a handlebar pack. His passport was in his pannier and he couldn't get it without swinging his leg over his crossbar and as soon as he did that the border crossing guard yelled, "Stay on your bike!"
Rob is a people pleaser. He didn't say anything, just grabbed his passport, which fortunately was easily accessible, quickly got back on his bike, and handed his passport to the guy.
As Mr. Nice Guy handed us back our passports I said, "How about, Welcome back home to the United States? Did you have a nice vacation in Canada?"
He said, "I'm just doing my job."
"Well you could be a little nicer about it," I said, and I took off.
For some reason I expected that once we got back to Vermont we'd hit hills and some hard riding. But to my delight, the hills were rolling, just enough for terrific downhills. We came to the town of Island Pond and found it to be bigger than we expected of a town this far north. It had an adequate grocery store where we stopped and picked up a couple hard lemonades before riding on to Brighton State Park where, with rain in the forecast, we paid extra for a site with a lean-to.
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