Day 12 – Many, Many Waterfalls, Arrival in Paradise and A Large Portion of England

From – Brownfield (Maine)
To – Stowe (Vermont)
Via – Montpelier (Vermont)
States Visited – 3 (Maine, New Hampshire & Vermont)
Miles Driven – 132
Waterfalls Seen – You stop counting after 50
Waterfall Induced Pees – See above


Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157609238102267/

Not the most successful start to the day as, with another fairly hefty day of driving ahead, we took Moldovia for a good walk to a) knacker her out and b) work off the mountain of pancakes, bananas and maple syrup we had devoured that morning. 10 minutes in and the light drizzle turned into torrential downpour which we battled through for the best part of an hour before giving up as neither of us are particularly strong swimmers. Some would consider it Sod’s Law that the rain stopped the minute we got back to the cottage but actually it was nice that it all cleared before we hit the tarmac.

The driving route followed the latter half of one of the aforementioned (and mildly embarrassing) scenic routes which took in several thousand waterfalls, each of which was luckily paired with number one facilities. I think it is the same reflex that triggers a dog to yawn via suggestion or maybe it is just our walnut sized bladders and inflated prostates but I’m sure we both peed at least twice as much liquid as we took in. Anyway, let’s not let this blog entry turn into yet another soliloquy about bodily functions.

Several hours later (having driven the breadth of New Hampshire – whose license plate motif is “Live Free or Die”…seems a bit extreme) we arrived in Montpelier which is situated in a gorge and surrounded by densely wooded mountains (what else would you expect from the self proclaimed “Green Mountain State”) – pretty much exactly what you picture when imagining a Vermont village. The trusty Lonely Planet guide recommended eating at a place run by the New England Culinary Institute, so, being a food snob, we made a bee line there. Now, being a grad of the French Culinary Institute, I was looking forward to looking down, criticising and mocking this supposedly lesser institution much like an Oxford/Harvard grad would deride a graduate of Preston Poly/Detroit Tech. Luckily they made it really easy for me as they served only sandwiches and quiche which, admittedly I wolfed down and enjoyed but it’s hardly pushing the gastronomique envelope is it? Here endeth the snobbish rant…for now.

A short drive later we arrived in Stowe just as the snow began to fall. I’m not trying to turn this into a Disney fairytale scene and I realize I’m I danger of coming across a bit P-Town resident but, holy handbags, this place is seriously picturesque. And the hotel – WOW. After a couple of weeks in “budget” places, the Top Notch Resort (I know, the name is awful – like the golden rule of never staying in a hotel containing the word “Luxury” in its title) is impeccable. It has one of the top-ten spas in America which no doubt Kate will be taking full advantage of tomorrow but it has that great ski-village feel with a constantly blazing fire (both indoors and outdoors) and an outdoor swimming pool and hot-tub which we lazed in, chatting with some locals, for a good hour. It’s quite an experience to be 100F from the throat down but 30F from the chin up and one I look forward to repeating many times before someone drags me kicking and screaming away from this little slice of heaven. Oh, and I forgot that they had a birthday cake waiting for Kate (a day early) which should have fed a small army but only lasted about an hour.

So Stowe is primarily a ski-resort town which is currently warming up (by cooling down) for the forthcoming snow season which means that not too many places are open (inkeeping with the recurring theme so far on this trip) but it seems that the locally renowned (and therefore good) restaurants and bars stay open to quench then local demand. One place we had recommended was Mr Pickwicks (another awful name, I know) which is attached to “Ye Olde English Pub” (seriously, who is in charge of marketing in this town?) which carries over 250 beers and 100 whiskeys…sounds like a good Sunday night in my books. We keep forgetting that people eat really early outside New York so arriving at 8pm meant tagging the existing diners and we were left with the place to ourselves just 30 minutes later. I had wild boar ribs for an appetizer which were ridiculously big but also ridiculously tender and tasty whilst Kate had shrimp that, whilst they were alive, were probably the bouncers and bodyguards of the shrimp world. Mains were both a bit disappointing despite the waft of truffle oil clouding the table when the plates were put down (a soggy beef Wellington and miss-sold Irish sausages in the bangers and mash that turned out to be synthetic Linda McCartney-esque) but I don’t remember that stopping me clearing my plate and most of Kates. Post dinner we retired to the bar area to cross off a few more of the massive ale list but a combination of being the only people in there and finding out that the staff could go home once we left embarrassed us into leaving a bit prematurely. Still, with a new episode of Charm School on at 11pm and us both being seriously old, we weren’t complaining too loud. Needless to say we both fell asleep before finding out who got expelled this week so if you know (and more of you will know than will actually admit to knowing) then keep it quiet.
It’s Kate’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve already been ordered to be nice to her all day – it could be the breaking of us unless we have separate days…