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Woke to another bright, blue, crisp, clear, cold, New England morning.
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Enjoyed another delicious breakfast at the Inn. Visited with Andrew (a traveling surgeon) and Emily from North Carolina, and Peter and Cheryl from Sydney, Australia. One of our favorite aspects of travel is definitely the wonderful and interesting people you encounter along the way. We wished we had more time to visit with these folks.
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By 10 am we were on the road, westbound out of Jackson. Passed south and west of Mount Washington, snapping photos at every opportunity. Fall is upon New England and the scenery is stunning.
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Crossed over the Connecticut River separating New Hampshire and Vermont. We are 60 miles from Canada at this point. Rode south down picturesque Rt. 91 for about 50 miles. At one point a large red fox came out of the woods and crossed our path. We stopped to watch for a couple of minutes before he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road.
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We were more than a little impressed with the Vermont highway system. We saw zero billboards the entire way; in fact, we saw only lush rolling hills speckled with all the colors of autumn. Beautiful state, Vermont.
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Pulled into Quechee at around 2 pm and checked into the Quality Inn motel with adequate and comfortable accommodations. We settled in and then headed west into Woodstock, stopping first to admire the awesome, deep Quechee Gorge, the “Grand Canyon of Vermont.”
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In Woodstock, we window-shopped for a while in the lazy, warm, sunny Sunday afternoon. Woodstock is a quaint New England village that truly fit our image of what a quaint New England village ought to be.
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Had a tasty lunch at Simon Pearce, a fine glassblowing establishment on the bank of a river. The restaurant is above a rushing waterfall and close to an old rustic covered bridge.
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After wandering around Woodstock we decided to hunt for Magic Hat Number 9, a brew I had enjoyed many years ago in NYC but could not locate in Tucson. The Magic Hat brewery is located in Burlington, Vermont, so we felt sure we could find it here. And we found it at Bentley’s restaurant on Elm Street, and it was as delicious as I remembered it. |
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At Bentley’s, we visited with a young fellow from Houston named Mark who was camping through New England prior to starting a new job. |
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As dusk was falling, we decided to call it a day and drove back to the hotel, and by 10 pm we were fast asleep in the midst of a beautiful, rustic part of New England. |
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