We're Off!

Up early, not too indecently so, however. All our baggage packed into the car the night before. Breakfast for Button and Riley, showers for us, then off to the ravine for some exercise. Quick work later to thermos some Earl Grey tea, smear bagels with hazelnut butter and honey, pack a few bananas, haul in the morning papers, and we're off!

The long grind of the drive, the agony of getting across Montreal, the rain finally descending seriously just as we approached Lake Memphremagog. Finally, at the border, we luck in. Instead of the lout in uniform we had to deal with last year who demanded our passports, an apparition of beauty in uniform this year. Young, blond, bright and cheerful, the antithesis of last year's sour welcome to Vermont.

Five minutes on we stop at a rest area, to pee. Both us and the dogs - and that's likely where Riley picked up the two ticks discovered later that evening. Because of the rain, lighter by then, we had our late breakfast sitting in the car, not at a picnic table, sharing the goodies with suddenly-ravenous Button and Riley who had, up until then, snoozed right through the drive.

The verdant Vermont landscape enchants with its post-card-perfect presentation of steeple-chased church enclosed by tidy homes and well-mannered streets. The gentle folds of hills either side of the highway present bucolic perfection. A confetti of small farms perched here and there on the rising folds of landscape. Mist rises from the fields. Barely perceptible outlines of mountains appear in the distance as the rain lifts, then starts again.

We're tantalized occasionally with a brief lifting of the dense, fast-moving clouds. The sun manages to send a few blinding rays over us. Gone with amazing speed as the darkness and the rain reassert their presence. This may very well reflect what we are to anticipate for the greater balance of our week coming up, given the long-range weather forecast we tapped into on the Internet before leaving home.

We can live with that. We'll still manage some good hikes, if not long strenuous climbs. Don't know if we can even make the attempt this year, after all. We're another year older. The energy and stamina somewhat diminished. Not quite what we were like thirty years ago when we first began going up to the White Mountains with our then-young family and accustomed ourselves to climbing - Lafayette, Eisenhower, Clinton, Little Haystack, Mount Mouselaki.

The weather closed in again as we drove on, rain pounding the car and the landscape, lighter portions of sky visible in the distance, but not where we were headed. At the Franconia Notch, the usual awe-inspiring landscape eluded us. The surrounding mountains draped too heavily in dark clouds and mist for visibility.