The last time I was at Hapgood Pond in Peru, VT I was 13 years old. Highlights of the weekend were the multiple bee stings I incurred after one became trapped in my t-shirt, a run-in with a park ranger for carrying around my pellet gun, and a beaver sighting. It was a damn good time, and my trusty canoe took that pond by storm. It’s amazing how big bodies of water tend to be when they’re sitting in your memory—especially those from childhood. Somehow I actually managed to feel pretty independent motoring from shore to shore, reed bank to reed bank—I spent hours not really getting anywhere, like a mouse on a wheel. I should have at least capitalized on my route and smoked a doobie in the weeds… oh, well.
Carey was in the mood for a good, old-fashion trudge through the snow. A country road would not do, I understood; she wanted peace, tranquility, and the low afternoon light. The quiet was consuming and the snow drifted waist deep in places but we pushed forward. I broke trail and Carey packed for an easy shot back to the car.
We passed a functioning out house, which I briefly inspected. It appeared to be newly constructed, perhaps last summer, clean as can be, and due to the lack of use, not a wisp of steam rose from pit, which despite knowing what I would find, I had to peek down into anyway. I have no idea why I’m sharing this…
We had cold fingers and snow in our boots but a fun outing was achieved. Time to find fire.
Have a great weekend!
[Carey in her best Roger Moore ski camo look.]