Powerlessness

One thought floats through my mind as I think of the places that resonated deeply with me on this trip. It is, weirdly, powerlessness. For me, the wild places and the least urban have caught me in their beauty. In these places we walk closer to the edge of life and death. In the cities, we think we can avoid danger: look both ways, stay out of the “bad” neighborhoods, cross the street when a lone dogs approaches. It is an illusion, but one that is reinforced every time we return home safely.

Then there are the really wild places: Mt Whitney, Yellowstone back country, Grassy Bay in Algonquin Park, Mt Kilauea on the Big Island. In these places, a quarter mile hike or canoe trip takes you into a space far fewer people go. Leave the roads and the wild nature of the earth becomes immediately evident. The boiling pots in Yellowstone, the smell of sulphur vents, walking the edge of scree, or seeing the clouds blow a lightning storm in over your head. I am truly powerless in those moments. I can take the next right step, I can hope my intuition leads me to the best action but the outcome is really completely outside of my control.

The in between spots can lull me with their beauty. Vermont is one such place. Perhaps few would call it wild. It is certainly agrarian. At this time of year, it is breath taking. 

But not too long ago it was a terrifying place. In late August Nine inches of rain fell from Irene’s clouds in less than 24 hours. And as someone said, 9” is a lot on flat land, but in the mountains, it flows down and becomes and immeasurable amount of water. As we drove over HWY 4 in early Oct., nearly  5 weeks after Irene, the stream that is usually about 2 feet wide and 6 inches deep took this house off it's foundation.

One of the folks we ran into said that they sat out the storm and were very grateful at the end, thinking they made it unscathed. Then turning left at the end of the driveway their neighbor's home. Gratitude tinged with the awareness that it could have been them, too.

Vermont has many covered bridges and when the GPS said turn right on our way to the next one, we nearly did. Good thing thing that the orange webbing said "not this time".
the dam that overran it's banks took out the back wall of a business and the road was closed as 300 propane tanks went over the dam, all leaking propane. It is impossible to describe the extent of the damage. Most roads are in decent shape, and the rebuilding is underway before the winter sets in. Powerlessness is on everyone's face. In some it is accompanied by generosity, in others bewilderment and loss. 


Being tourists, we had a fantastic time in Vermont and there is not enough space to share it all. we went into Quebec for lunch and had homemade sausage made by a Polish butcher in a French village. We had our hero Willie save us from our ignorance regarding tire pressure. We visited with a young woman gallery owner, due on Jan 1, who is getting her care from the midwives at the local hospital, we hiked Smugglers notch, only 1.1 miles but 700 ft gain in elevation. Yes I was powerless over my desire to get to the lake and my poor aching lungs. 

The Vermont trip ended with a lunch with my dear friend and colleague Barb. She lives in Hanover, NH and showed us the town- on the day of the Republican  Debate. We both wore pearls in honor of the occasion and in case we'd be interviewed by Fox!