East Bumfuck, VT. It is just north of Victory before you get to Granby. I went for a motorcycle ride out of camp in search of the point where Vermont, New Hampshire and Canada all come together. Thought I would take the back way so as to see a part of Vermont I had never seen before. Which is now that part of Vermont I hope to never see again. The road from Rt 2 in North Concord that winds up and through Victory, East Bumfuck, Granby, Guildhall finally connecting with Rt. 102 turns out is gravel. Which turns out to not be the best road surface for motorcycle tires that should have been changed about 2000 miles ago. An interesting side note: Guildhall gets its name from the Abenaki word for “place you can’t nor would you want to get to from here”.
Guildhall Doublewide Trailer
I finally made it to the right neck of the woods but narrowing down what I thought would be a pretty big tourist draw (I mean we’re talking not just about the Northeast Kingdom, this is the actual Northeast Corner of Vermont) was a little more of a challenge than I had foreseen. Almost crossed into Canada at Beecher Falls. Headed up the New Hampshire side of the Connecticut looking for a place called Happy Corner, NH. Sounded promising but nothing. I finally tracked down a stone marker that indicated that an institution of no less importance than the United States Supreme Court Boundary Commission had determined that the spot I was looking for was 314 feet to the east at the low water point of the edge of the Connecticut River.
You thought I was kidding?
That’s it! Get your toes wet and you’re in New Hampshire.
On the way home I had lunch in this quaint little restaurant named after the farmer who had a farm, EIEIO. And on that farm he had some animal parts, EIEIO. With a quarter pounder here...
Actually it was a great ride. It’s always good to get out of camp for a little break. I did see some signs of wildlife.
Unfortunately also signs that man is starting to encroach on this quaint corner of Vermont.
I did have a close call on the way home when I came around a corner and there were these slow children ahead playing teeter-totter in the road.
Luckily I had retained my muscle memory from playing the windmill hole at miniature golf so many times and sped under the port side just as she went up. Another interesting side note: Teetor-totter comes from the Greek. Teetor meaning fat boy and totter meaning move closer to the fulcrum. There you have it.
Next week I think will explore the path of 5 or 6 of Vermont’s fine micro-brewed beers as they make their way from fine hops and grains to my refrigerator and beyond.
Love you all. Peace. Peter