Middlebury Vermont . . . the quintessential New England village. Snow white, pointy-steepled Congregational Church, tree-sy village green, 19th century mills, gushing waterfalls that once powered those mills, 200+ year-old university, prehistoric two-story Ben Franklin five-and-dime store. Church bells ringing on Sunday, traffic moving 20 mph, John Deere lived here, tight country roads with one-way bridges, Robert Frost's farm just down the road, and a writer's group called Bread Loaf.
looking north on Main Street
Because Bridget's family was living in student housing there was no room for me there. The price of hotels/motels was quite high here so I decided to camp out at a family-owned campground a few miles down the road, for $20 per night. I brought along my Fred Meyer $13 tiny tent, a homemade fleece sleep sack, bought a pillow in Middlebury, and was all set for a 2-week camping adventure.
But I didn't plan on the rainiest summer that living Vermonters had ever seen. Who could have guessed? And it wasn't just a deluge; these daily/nightly storms were full-blown t-storms, the clamor of a violent bowling match played in the heavens while Zeus hurled lightening bolts at the Titans. Some nights it was so thunderously deafening (and frightening) that I had to take ambien to sleep. The water flowed in sheets through my campsite. The falls in Middlebury attracted crowds who had never seen them surging so strong.
Middlebury FallsAnd despite the torrents I managed to stay dry inside my faithful tiny tent. After a couple of nights tiny tent wasn't leaking, but I feared it soon could be. With a pile of hefty bags and a roll of duct tape, I fashioned a waterproof cover for it. Not even a drop of water would dare get in this tent. And not one ever did.
I still use my sturdy tiny tent for backpacking trips. And I enjoy the satisfaction of having done a bold and crazy thing, and living to tell about it. And saving a ton of money in the process.
Bridget and baby at Porter Hospital in Middlebury