Once you cross the state line into Vermont, you can see a difference right away. It’s very forested, but not as dense, and with many open areas. The mountains seem more dramatic because they’re smaller in circumference and steeper. And the barns and houses and neighborhoods all of a sudden have great character. We visited a working sugar house where they make maple syrup (pronounced “surp” here) by tapping trees by hand and heating it with a wood furnace. We had some on French toast the next day. Mmm.

A few miles down from the campsite is Woodstock (not THE Woodstock) which has Vermont’s oldest general store still in business (really neat place) as well a large population of tree-huggers. I hadn’t thought to wear my Birkenstocks that day, so I may have stood out. Further upstate is Hope Cemetery in Barre, the “Granite Center of the World.” The stark white head stones here are works of art, sculpted into pretty much anything. Besides the NASCAR and soccer ball stones, there was one made to look like the departed couple sitting up in bed. Kinda creepy. The ones that were over 100 years old looked as if they were placed there yesterday.