After meeting up with my cousin Thomas in Burlington and weighing his car down enough to burst his coolant tank and put it in the shop, I spent a quiet day getting ahead on work and then headed for Canada in the early morning. Grand Isle, VT is pretty awesome; it’s a town nestled with a handful of other towns on the Hawaii of inland New England, the islands of Lake Champlain. The lake isn’t big enough for its own tide, but it can hold several communities of locals just fine.
I lost my first item; two straps for holding the dry-bag to the front of my rack. I must’ve left them in Tom’s car before it went to the shop. The shoulder straps from my bike bags do the job. I got lucky!
I didn’t realize that I forgot to memorize any french (at all) until I was at the first rest stop. The waitress looked just short of painfully abject when I asked if she spoke english and then asked for WiFi. I felt like a true tourist; I should have hung my camera around my neck for maximum effect.
The border was easy to cross, though. When a 23 year old tells you he’ll be in your country for a month, and will probably try and bike to Toronto and then bike through British Columbia, you’d think they’d ask a few questions. The lovely border guard had me through in three minutes with a smile. I can’t wait for my interrogation on the way back in (“just how the hell did you get to Vancouver?”)
Today, I’ll try to stealth camp at a golf course. Tomorrow, it’s Montreal!