We started our first full day in Vermont with coffee and a warm scone from the convenience store in Grafton, we had a couple of places on our agenda, such as Brattleboro and Woodstock (I’m convinced every New England state has a Woodstock) but beyond that it was open roads ahead of us. On route to Brattleboro we passed the West Dummerston covered bridge, spanning the West River, built in 1872 and the longest wholly covered bridge in Vermont. It’s an easy climb down to the water’s edge, with rocks that jut out just enough we were able to climb on and take in the view, it created one of those why don’t we live here moments. We were looking for the nearest kayak.
Brattleboro sits on the border with New Hampshire, it’s essentially a small college town with a rural sense about it, with plenty of coffee shops and art galleries for the college kids to crowd into. Explore on foot, there are alleyways with street art to find and the river to walk along. We drove across the river into New Hampshire to check out a couple of bridges, the Ashuelot Covered Bridge and Thompson Covered Bridge, not too far into NH but enough of a drive I could add it as a new state I’ve visited. There’s not much to say about Vermont’s Woodstock, it’s a sleepy town with little to do but check out the old houses with some built as early as the 1800s, peruse the antique stores and find a restaurant to have a glass of wine at, that’s what it’s all about though, right? Oh yeah, it too has a covered bridge, because of course it does.
We were back in the car and heading to Grafton, GPS took us through Quechee where we stumbled upon Simon Pearce Glassware and its restaurant which has a beautiful collection of all things glass to purchase, but it feels much more like an art gallery, with a basement viewing gallery to watch their glassblowers. The restaurant offers stunning views of the Ottauquechee River Waterfall, and you guessed it, a covered bridge. No really, it’s worth a stop, the waterfall was deafening and it can all be taken in from the balcony with a glass of wine in hand.
We returned to the Scottish pub for dinner, early enough for the full menu and their homemade banoffee pie, which we enjoyed over a conversation with a local couple we met at the bar.
Let’s just start by saying I’m a little uneven, but in my defense I’ve been listening to a lot of true-crime podcasts and had been reading a book about a late 19th century axe murderer. The couple at the bar were a delight, it was one of those interactions that seemed completely innocuous (it was). We told them where were staying. How unfamiliar we were of the area. Where we were from (DC tags on the car). We took recommendations on where to go the following day - an extremely remote waterfall with no cell service. We started following each other on Instagram. A few beers later, in the car on our way back to the cabin that I put all of that together. This random couple in the middle of nowhere knew everything about us, even down to the cabin we were staying in because we Insta-storied it earlier in the day. Of course it was nonsense but paranoia set in, we drove a little faster down the pitch black dirt road, checking the rear-view mirror for headlights. Don’t overshare people, and maybe listen to a little more Spotify and a little less true-crime.