Northeast Kind
Recent travels in New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire have allowed for brief, subtle interactions that resulted in wonderful opportunities. When traveling it’s easy to hop on a phone or computer and begin to form an idea of what is possible and desired in the visited area, but the locals always seem to have the most satisfying recommendations.
The Adirondacks in New York has countless places to camp. The many lakes make for wonderful loop hikes that may end with a swim in the cool water. And sometimes a wander around a section of forest will lead to a lake with a random canoe that implores an ask for forgiveness instead of permission.
And how does one find these places? It may be possible using keywords and technology, but talking to the folks around may yield a more enjoyable experience.
A stop at a paid camping site addressed the question of where some primitive camping may be found. Instead of just the one spot discovered online, the recommendation came with three different suggestions.
Pulling into one of the suggested areas near Lake Durant, it quickly became clear that the limited campsites were very desirable (arrived on a Sunday and all the spaces were occupied). It’s never clear when someone is leaving, so it’s always worth the time to ask how long someone plans on being there. We walked over to the group and asked: all week. But the question brought with it an opening for suggestion.
One of the campers walked us over to the water’s edge and pointed to an opening in the trees — I saw a couple tents right over there this morning.
The smallest suggestion is all the convincing required to inspire a further look into what might be possible. We walked back to the car and began to ready our things for a short hike in toward the campsite. As we prepared, a couple gathering kindling walked by and started up a conversation. We told them about the recommended spot and Dan offered to show us how to get there. If he hadn’t had so much equipment, he would have claimed this spot as his own, but alas.
He walked us over and told us of the time he’s spent maintaining trails and guiding hikes. A nature enthusiast through-and-through. And a wonderful human to interact with. He showed us the site and expressed a playful jealousy, then walked back to his site. As we stood on the large rock beginning with the fire pit and ending in the water, it became clear we lucked out: this is the spot.
Lake Durant — Adirondacks of New York.
Would we have found this spot without interacting with these individuals? Maybe, but it would not have come with such ease and pleasant cooperation. There is a joy that comes with interactions that share and welcome. A solidarity of mindset — we’re out here together.
The next couple of days took us into Vermont and, somehow, the recommendations resulted in more magic. Much like any small city, Burlington, Vermont is fun to walk around or explore the beaches of Lake Champlain, but the forests yield the truly exciting stuff.
Lake Champlain — Burlington, VT
After a beach day on Lake Champlain, the forest began to call. Evening drives typically mean that a campsite will not be found for that night, but that doesn’t mean the morning wake happens without occasion. Headed east from Burlington, Stowe is a quick, one-hour drive. We used the mountains as a guide and found a parking lot to spend the night at Smuggler’s Notch near Mount Mansfield.
The sunrise was met with many more cars parking and preparations for hiking. We noticed a state park booth open with a young woman crocheting, so we decided to ask her advice for the day. She recommended Sterling Pond for our day-hike, told us about the scavenger hunt the park organized, shared a freshly made cookie from a local bakery, and told us where to find a spring for the freshest water.
As one may assume, the cookie was fantastic, the spring water refreshing, and the hike around the pond both beautiful and exhilarating — the water was brisk yet welcoming.
Sterling Pond - Stowe, VT
We appreciated the recommendations so much we had to ask one final question: where should we go for primitive camping? The answer flowed like water from a spring — Cottonbrook Road. So we headed to Cottonbrook in search of a site for the night. It didn’t take long to find a spot where a river flowed below and the sky opened above. A crackling fire accompanied by a gentle river as the soundtrack to stargazing.
Cottonbrook Road — Stowe, VT
The following morning was met with fresh coffee at a local shop. A quick look at a map showed Groton State Park as close by and full of accessible forest. We stopped at the Boulder Beach booth and asked for primitive camping recommendations. With a bit of unsureness the attendant told us Kettle Pond, but recommended we stop at a state park campsite to get more information.
We pulled up to the window and told the woman at the desk that the Boulder Beach guy told us we can primitive camp near Kettle Pond. She rolled her eyes and sort of scoff-laughed. She told us the only primitive camping she’s familiar with is down the road about 15 miles and called Butterfield Road. So we took the general directions and ran with it.
After what seemed like more than 15 miles and no sign of Butterfield Road, we pulled a U-turn and began discussing an alternate plan. Then a sign from the heavens: Butterfield Road State Forest Access. There is no way to see this sign coming from the park, but once you’re headed back in the park’s direction it’s obvious.
We turned in and took the dirt road back into the forest. Took some random turns here and there to end up in a large, open field filled with wild apple trees. Another success based in suggestion.
Groton Park was the last of Vermont and the time for New Hampshire had come. The White Mountains were an obvious destination, so we stopped in a small town called Littleton for a diner meal and interactions. We sat next to a couple from Maine who were excited to hear of our creeping towards Baxter State Park, and this was met with a list of places to camp and roads to travel for the greatest beauty (Golden Road in Maine).
What came next surprised me at first, but it was also a reminder of the variety of people one may meet whilst traveling.
Eavesdropping is not typically something I focus on, but this diner had a gentleman talking to a young couple about how Colorado is the best, so I opened my ears with curiosity.
The statements didn’t just focus on how beautiful Colorado is, but essentially sold the state as the be-all, end-all. He talked about the air quality being better, the unbeatable stars, and the welcoming people. And with all of this I agree.
I have seen the royal skies open for the Milky Way and the arid air dry my sweaty shirt in minutes. I have been welcome by both city and mountain folk to enjoy the exchange of story and warmth of fire. And with this my love for Colorado grew.
But then my spying ears caught a less lovely selling point: trash talking the northeast. He went on about how the air is heavy and humid, sometimes the rain doesn’t end for days at a time, and the people of the area are superficially nice.
As the aforementioned experiences may illustrate, the people of the northeast are wonderful. Interactions heavily depend on openness and reception, but going in with a standoffish attitude doesn’t typically result in friendliness. And it will set the tone for the next interaction with a Coloradan.
Our simple smiles and open hearts have been met with little resistance and much appreciation. Even in the mean woods of the northeast.
As for all the other details, isn’t that a matter of preference? Some like humidity and heavy air or a rainy week so that the lush greenery can thrive. Yet others prefer the desert where it seldom rains and the sunny sands underfoot persuade time to move slower than usual.
I’m always happy to hear about the love one has for the state they reside in, but the better-than territory just doesn’t feel true to anything. The discomfort of being out of what is known can be a wonderful opportunity, or it can stay a waste of breath filled with complaint and stonewall.
I would just remind anyone busy talking about the locals in generalities to reference a long-shared adage from Raylan Givens:
If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole.
If you run into assholes all day, you’re the asshole.
