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Traveling
Team RudineVERMONT,
MAPLE SURPLE AND COVERED BRIDGES by
Ken Rudine
Photographs by
The Rudine Team
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In
search of covered bridges along our path, we entered Vermont
the Green Mountain State at Fair Haven continuing on to Rutland, VT our
destination on this day late in the month of May. There could have been good photos
to be made along the way, but we were greeted with only rain.
As we left
Rutland the next morning heading toward Killington things looked very pretty.
Passing near the small town of Brandon we came to the quaint town of Bridgewater,
where a stream ran along the side of the road. The stream sparkled like diamonds
in a shaft of sunlight reminding us of sparkling water.
Our first stop
was the Lincoln Covered Bridge near Woodstock that crossed the Quechee
River. While making photos a meadowlark sang its song for our enjoyment. We
had passed in the town about 10:30, just as the towns people were lining the streets
to be spectators of the soon to pass Memorial Day parade. We were almost trapped
into being part of it. |
| Lincoln
Covered Bridge interior |
| Lincoln
Covered Bridge over the Quechee River |
| We moved on to Taftsville
Covered Bridge over the Ottauqueche River past the hydroelectric power
station. This is the oldest bridge in Windsor County and Vermont ranks it fourth
among the surviving wooden truss spans. It appears to be heavily traveled. Here
we also spotted many yellow and black butterflies. |
| Taftsville
Covered Bridge |
| Taftsville
Covered Bridge interior |
| Near Sugar Bush
farms we stopped to see a film on how Maple trees are tapped to extract the liquid
that is cooked down into maple syrup. If you have ever seen Ribbon Cane Syrup
cooked around Rusk TX, you won’t
see much difference cooking maple syrup. In 1964 Roger Miller found a need to
call it “Surple” as he wrote “Dang Me” in just 4 minutes. In a burst of brilliance
he came up with “surple” to rhyme with purple. Dang Me stayed on the Billboard
charts for half a year. |
Dang me, dang me
They
oughta take a rope and hang me
High from the highest tree
Woman would
you weep for me.
Roses are red and violets are purple
Sugar is sweet
and so is maple surple
I was the seventh out of seven sons
My pappy was
a pistol
I'm a son of a gun. |
On a hillside we saw
cutout figures at (what looked like) a nursery called “Fool on the Hill.” Actually
a closer look allowed us to see it was a simple tourist trap, so we continued
on. It was noticeable because this State is all trees and streams and almost no
signs are allowed.
In a few miles we came to the Quechee Gorge,
which according to what little we could see, was spectacular. Many people were
lined up on the bridge taking photos.
After stopping at the Hartford
Vermont Welcome Center we headed for the Cornish Windsor Covered Bridge
the longest such bridge. At the bridge, upon leaving the west bank to cross the
Connecticut River, you simultaneously leave Vermont. The river and the other side
belong to the State of New
Hampshire. Windsor is where Vermont
was founded in 1777. |
| Cornish
Windsor Covered Bridge - the longest such bridge |
| Cornish
Windsor Covered Bridge over the Connecticut River |
| We snacked for lunch
at an insect infested rest stop near Brookfield. For the next hour and
a half we tried in vain to find a hotel with Queen sized beds. Apparently when
the locals get large, perhaps they move to Florida. After we tried the Inns in
Barre, VT, and Montpelier we settled for the usual double beds. Overnight, we
stayed in Barre, the so called “Granite Center of the World.” |
| Highway
302 easterly from Barre |
| The next morning dawned
veiled in heavy fog so first we filled our gas tank. As we drove easterly along
Hwy 302, the weather cleared up almost immediately. We saw more moose signs and
floating fuzzes in the air, likely from area cottonwood trees. We passed Groton
State Forest and in the town we saw a couple of signs that said “Take Back
Vermont”. |
| We passed through
Ryegate, VT where a stream began running beside us, first on the right
side of the road – and then left. Around Wells River many roadside flea
markets entertained us for a few miles. The wilderness began encroaching on our
views giving me a feeling I could write a ghost story, named “The Bridge Uncovered”.
Nah, I will need more signs, Oh well. |
| Near
the junction of the White and Connecticut Rivers | |
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