Nathaniel and I walked up the road to the bakery to fetch breakfast pastries; he’s interested in everything, and we saw the big wood shed, the upper village, and the bakery pasture…although the herds were elsewhere, as we were about to find out.
We all headed for the pool after breakfast. We took the short feeder trail that connects the lower village with a path that leads to the lodge, fitness center, and pool. We soon learned that skiers had to relearn the trail system, because the cattle pasture now occupies a huge area between the upper and lower villages, with the result that our trail ended in an electric fence…and a lot of cows.
So we walked around through the upper village and the group, minus the water-averse grandpa, were happily swimming and splashing. The pool sits next to one of the ponds on the property, with lovely views of the Worcester Range across the valley. It was views like this that reminded the von Trapps of the Salzkammergut in Austria.
I went up to the outdoor center and snagged a summer trail map–which is quite different from the cross country ski map.
I walked along the Greenway Loop, a mountain bike track, back through the woods to our guesthouse. The woods, beneath the lofty canopy of beech, birch, and maple, were alive with ferns and moose maple (so called because the moose love the huge leaves on this understory tree).
After lunch, Sue, Andrew, Nathaniel and I walked out Sugar Road to Picnic Knoll and then back along Russell Knoll Track. Nathaniel is a great walker, and endlessly curious!
Andrew and Emily had a date night at the new Hen of the Woods in Waterbury. They had a very good dinner, but agreed that the new location is anodyne.
Grandma and Grandpa and the boys had a nice pasta dinner, and the boys crashed: a day in the outdoors ensured a good night’s sleep!
After our usual morning—Sue swam and I walked out on one of the trails into the woods—we decided to explore the villages of northern Vermont. Our afternoon led us through Morrisville and on to Craftsbury, where we had skied one year.
We then drove northeast to the Vermont lake region, passing through Barton on our way to East Burke, where we had taken part in Chris and Alyssa’s wedding. We learned about the Kingdom Trails, a huge mountain biking network in the region before heading down to Lyndonville (passing by the beloved Miss Lyndonville diner) and on to the Supercharger at St. Johnsbury…which proved to be the worst we had ever visited, with fully half the chargers out of order.
After another breakfast with goodies from the bakery, I headed up to retrieve my car, which had been charging overnight at the Outdoor Center. On the way back I saw a sheep formation that I couldn’t pass up.
We headed into town to stroll around and check out the new openings, followed by a quick bite at a gringoish Mexican joint.
The afternoon saw another kid adventure: Trapp’s “Sugar Tour,” where you learn about maple syrup from start to finish. Our guide, Katy Ann, was a real crusty Vermonter; as Emily said, she grew on us. The walk took us out Sugar Road and down Sugarhouse Chute.
Trapp has three “sugar bushes” with a total of about 2000 tapped maples, a small operation by Vermont standards. They produce just enough syrup to serve in their restaurants and sell in their shops.
Sugar season is relatively short, from late winter to early spring. It takes, on average, 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. The taps run into small green tubes, each of which is then connected to a larger main line that runs directly to the sugar house.
In the sugar house, the long open pan sits atop the “arch,” or wood. burning cast iron stove.
And here is Katy Ann telling the kids about the stove.
I had always assumed that the four grades of syrup–from golden through amber and on to very dark–were the result of different types of processing. Not so. The tree itself determines the color and viscosity; the master sugarer simply takes a sample of each batch and determines the grade.
It started raining during our inspection of the sugar house; we waited for a while, but it showed no signs of letting up, so we had a delightful walk through the warm rain back to the Outdoor Center.
Once we had dried out a bit, we ran into town and bought steaks at The Butchery and corn at Macs. Andrew manned the grill, and we had a wonderful dinner. The 2008 Produttori del Barbaesco Reserve Paje was a great accompaniment!
We had a bit of rain in the morning, but it soon cleared and we headed for Smugglers Notch, the narrow pass between Mount Mansfield and Spruce Peak. After years in which large trucks continually got stuck as they tried to make their way along the road between boulders, the state finally put in a chicane at the entrance to the notch that keeps large trucks out.
After driving to the top of the notch, we turned back for a walk along the Barnes Camp Loop Trail. The trail–a section of the Long Trail that runs the length of Vermont–starts on a walkway above a bog; it soon turns into a typical northern New England trail: rocky, rutted, and incredibly beautiful.
The boys turned out to be terrific hikers.
Even Alex walked the first half of the trail.
Nathaniel walked the entire two-mile trail, including some very steep pitches with some scrambling.
After running along a ridge for the first half, the trail descends and crosses a swift brook on stepping stones.
The pitch then turned steeply uphill. We stopped for a well deserved break at the top, where we rejoined the Long Trail.
And here’s the happy crew at the end of the walk.
Long family tradition dictates that young hikers get a badge to commemorate their first real hike, so I headed into town and found some nice ones for these two intrepid walkers.
Every good hiker deserves some ice cream at the end of the trail, so we drove to Waterbury so that the boys could do the Ben and Jerry’s factory tour. The tour was a hit, especially once we had a free sample in hand. Today’s flavor was marshmallow sky—marshmallow ice cream with some natural flavor that turned it blue. Some of us liked it, some didn’t!
Dinner was at the Trapp Bierhall. A big success except the part where I spilled an entire beer onto Nathaniel!
Departure day for Andrew, Emily, and the boys dawned with bright sunshine…a beautiful day to start in the woods.
Emily had some work to do, so the rest of us headed down to the Sleigh Road, a trail that runs just below our guesthouse.
As you can see, the boys love the woods!
We saw some lovely things, and some unusual ones, like this young tree growing from a stump.
The boys wanted to bring maple trees home with them. Alex has just wrestled his out of the ground.
We walked back up to the house along the Stepping Stones trail, so called because it switchbacks up the hill, making a steep ascent possible for mountain bikers…and young men.
Sue and I took it easy after the family left, and decided to give a new (to us) restaurant a try: The Whip, in the Green Mountain Inn right in the center of town. It is a traditional, even old fashioned place, with many more locals than visitors. The food wasn’t bad, and the setting—a large terrace out back—was lovely.
Sue and I set out on our first walk on the Southwest Coast Path almost six years ago; we walked almost 100 miles around the end of Cornwall, from St. Ives to Coverack…and we thought we would be doing this every year until we had finished all 630 miles of the path.
A few things came between us and our plans: not just the pandemic and the odd health bump (torn achilles tendons are not conducive to long walks), but wonderful things like grandchildren and anniversary celebrations.
We did return to the path in 2022, when we walked the Jurassic Coast with our friends Cindy and Gary H. (we walked from Exmouth to Lulworth Cove on that walk), and again in 2023, when we finished the easternmost portion of the path, from Kimmeridge Bay to South Haven Beach, in part with our friend Andrew D.
So now, in 2024, we’re back at it, with Cindy and Gary again and our friends Patti and David B. (experienced Arizona hikers but path “rookies”). We’ll walk along the eastern coast of Cornwall, from Falmouth to just short of Plymouth.
We’ll do that, that is, if United doesn’t cancel our 8:30 AM flight to London…which they did in November 2023!
Early start to make the day flight: out of the house at 5 AM, car park by six, and in the terminal by 6:30.
We had the best flight on United that we’ve had for a very long time. Comfortable seats, plenty of legroom and, best of all, we arrived a full hour early at Heathrow.
We are at our hotel by 9 PM and were joined in the checkin line by Patti and David. OK, s0 the Hilton London Paddington is a little wierd.
It was once a grand railway hotel, owned by the Great Western Railway. It is now a partially modernized hulk with large, rather awkward rooms. Comfortable enough and convenient, though.
We took the tube to Oxford Circus, and before we knew it we were sitting down for dinner at Dishoom. Braised, lamb, dal, and some naan-we were all well satisfied .
We walked out of the restaurant at about 11:20 PM and decided that it was time for a walk, since the night was still young. We walked to Picadilly Circus , then down Haymarket to Trafalgar Square and then back to Piccadilly for the tube .
Although we’ve had the occasional hiccup with the British rail system in the past, today’s journey was flawless. Our Great Western Railway train was very comfortable, and ran on time thoughout the long journey to Cornwall. We did have to change trains twice, one at Plymouth and again at Truro, but by shortly after 2 PM we were leaving the train in Falmouth.
The high street runs parallel to the large sheltered harbor; Sue and I made a quick stop to make good an act of idiocy on my part. In packing I had taken an old, battered puffy jacket from the closet. It was chilly on the plane and I retrieved the jacket from my travel pack…only to find that I had brought Sue’s jacket and not mine. It was a bit tight.
Buying an insulation layer in summer isn’t a bad idea: the local Mountain Warehouse offered a variety of fleeces at bargain basement prices. You’ll see my elegant 19-pound fleece in some of the pictures to follow.
The Greenbank Hotel is the oldest in Falmouth; it has been welcoming guests since 1785–including, at one point, Florence Nightingale.
This section of the harbor once provided anchorage for the mail packets that sailed between Falmouth and London.
We couldn’t find Patti and David, although they had a 20-minute head start. It turned out that they had taken a scenic route, up a steep hill and then precipitously downward on a flight of steps once they figured that they had gone the wrong way.
There is a nice pub, The Working Boat, attached to the hotel; we sampled some grilled calimari and mackerel pate along with our drinks.
Gary and Cindy had flown overnight from Los Angeles, then had a train delay, but arrived in time to lead us to a drink at the Cornwall Royal Yacht Club just down the hill from our hotel. Gary and Cindy and David and Patti know each other from one of our trips to Burma…where else do you make friends?
We had a table booked across town at a seafood joint, but, out of deference to the sleepless among us, we opted to eat at the hotel…which proved to be a great decision. The view across the harbor spectacular, and we feasted on delicious fish of all kinds, superb mussels, good wine, and even a glass of an excellent Cornish sparkling wine. Pleasant conversation, with lots of catching up.
Falmouth to Portscathow, 8.7 miles, Wednesday, June 12, 2014
We started the day with an excellent breakfast at the hotel; the kitchen is to be recommended!
After a bit of scurrying about to find an ATM, er, Cash Point, and get some water for Sue, we were aboard the ferry across the harbor to Saint Mawes by 9:15. We have many, many pictures of Gary over the years, but very few with a smile. Gary: “Smiling is overrated.” Here he is making up for lost time.
The sheltered harbor is enormous, and reputed to be the second deepest harbor in the world (after Rio de Janeiro).
The ferry to Saint Mawes weaves its way through the millions of dollars worth of sailboats.
Dominating part of the view is a huge Royal Navy training ship.
Around a point lies the lovely village of Saint Mawes, guarded by a fortification constructed by Henry VIII. We think our grandchildren would be thrilled to see a real castle!
After disembarking from the ferry in Saint Mawes, you board a tiny “ferry” for Place; it holds 11 passengers.
Place turns out to be not much of a place: just this mansion called “Place House.”
Just up the hill behind Place House is the lovely old thirteenth century church of St. Anthony in Rosalind,
From the church the path rises onto the cliffs of the Roseland Peninsula, passing this tree which gives you some idea of the force of the prevailing winds in these parts.
As the path hugs the edge of the peninsula, the open sea–or rather the English Channel–gradually comes into view.
The color of the water at many places is simply stunning.
The lighthouse visible at the end of peninsula stands at St. Anthony’s Head. This has always been a treacherous part of the coast, with frequent shipwrecks. Nathaniel and Alex could probably build a pretty good version of this lighthouse!
After the head, we turned east; the cliffs on the peninsula are thick with foxglove.
This was the gentlest day Sue and I had experienced on the path; most of the section consists of gently rolling cliff walking. The cliffs are cut with very few streams (which make for steep descents to sea level and ascents back onto the cliffs); this combe was an exception.
With glorious weather–low sixties but surprisingly warm in the sun–the miles flew by. Here are a couple of happy hikers.
We passed a number of inviting beaches, inviting that is if you have a wetsuit: water temperatures hover around 60•.
A couple of miles from our destination, the village of Portscathow, we met some people doing a short circuit hike; they recommended the Thirstea Co. tearoom, just minutes off the path. A cream tea sounded just right. But none of us had seen David for at least a mile. We called. We texted. We ran ahead, hoping to find him. All to no avail. So no cream tea for us (every walk has a running joke, and ribbing David will be one of ours). On we went.
As we approached Portscathow, the path passed through a number of thick hedgerows.
Portscathow is a tiny, lovely Cornish village…and its pub, the Plume of Feathers, is even nicer.
This is a proper pub, with all of its eighteenth century character intact.
That’s the publican’s enormous Bassett Hound, Walter, blocking the entrance. The boss and his whole crew are exceptional. We’ve never been made to feel so welcome! We had a light lunch and then got cleaned up before our tour of the town…which consisted of a visit to the little grocery store for lunch provisions followed by a stroll down the the beach with Cindy.
The food was really good: most of us had the catch of the day, “stone bass,” a local white fish with firm white flesh; others chowed down on mussels or scampi. As we ate, we were serenaded by a men’s choir singing sea chantys.
Much of the discussion at dinner revolved around tomorrow’s walk; some forecasts are predicting really bad weather, with heavy rain and strong winds. Stay tuned.
