We leave in less than 48 hours for ultimately, the Vermont side of Lake Champlain, and so far the extent of packing includes emptying my closet on top of a duffel bag, then pawing through for clothes to wear today. The bag is new, something cheap and fold-able, because I wanted a duffel bag of my own, not one inherited from an ex-mother-in-law. I’ve come across that feeling a lot recently. I know it’s cheaper to stick with what I already own but I’ve developed this itch for things that are entirely mine. Or if it’s not mine, like my living room of inherited furniture, I want it to have belonged to someone I still love.
In truth, the important things are already packed – the kayak, the bikes, a sheep’s worth of yarn, enough reading material for a small library. What else do you really need?
The plan is to drive with leisure on the way there. My theory was to just get on I-90 and head east, then follow the signs, which I figured would work pretty well. I did Europe that way with only a few minor mishaps, and those were more errors in judgment than errors in direction. But this time, I’m travel with a man who takes a different tack. Thank goodness for sticky notes.
Day One takes us to Missoula, MT for the night. Day two we drop down in to Wyoming and through a bunch of other states until we reach the part that I’m really excited about, which is the ferry from Wisconsin across Lake Michigan.
In about a week we hope to land in Bridport, Vermont. Specifically West Bridport (ignore the red “A” bubble”), which I’ve been assured (a) is very definitely NOT called Bridgeport and (b) makes a wide spot in the road look happening. But, if google can map it, I can go there.
Once we’re there, the plan for the summer is to have no plan. We’ll be on a lake in the middle of farmland Vermont with enough quiet to listen for echos of Thoreau in the evening.