It’s a good thing we’re into the horror genre because today threw us some terror balls. My bones shiver just thinking about it. I’m talking about the kind of horror that comes with hitching 7,000 pounds of trailer to a pick up truck…. and realizing that the pin that holds the whole attachment together…. is MISSING!!! (Yes, even fat solid inch-wide steel is sometimes called a pin. Weird.) We’re not savvy enough yet to know whether it fell out or someone knicked it. (We hear it happens. Hellbender will have to pay a visit to those unlucky souls.) I mean, can you imagine the carnage that could transpire from such a big whoops? Thankfully John noticed, and after finding a replacement we nervously hitched for the first time and safely eased away from Site #1 at Woodbury Meadows….. until our GPS sent us down a dirt road that narrowed and snaked until it sputtered into nowhere. Doing a 3-point turn with close to 28 feet of monster behind you = another white knuckler. But this isn’t the first navigation nightmare we’ll sweat through, and with a little luck and a bit of exponential skill (John!), we’ll edge on.
Had to kick off with a little drama. But can’t neglect highlighting our first camping base: a private nook on someone’s property in East Calais, Vermont. Rimmed by fluffy hills and steeped inside a blazing cauldron of leafy autumn fire, it was the perfect maiden haven for the Wonder Wheels. Our host, Jon, was a soft spoken kind man who quietly stood apart as we made our first back-in (a sharp-turned, gravelly uphill one at that) into the site. It’s a whole new dance, this trailer thing, and it takes some time to learn the steps. Jon was like a gentle parent watching from a one-eyed safe distance while their kid struggles to achieve something a bit scary on their own. He then greeted us warmly and happily handed down hitching advice we were grateful for. Vermont too had had their first frost, and a few surviving cherry tomatoes clung to each other at the site’s pretty perch across from a glassy pond. The trees and clouds look in that mirror daily and say, “Damn, I look good.”
Thanks, Vermont. We’ll be back. Next stop: the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Rolling, rolling, rolling!
