Summary
After we enjoyed a last breakfast with our excellent travel companions, the Parsons, we headed to Burlington, Vermont, by bus. It was a smooth trip with the only wrinkle being a 45-minute delay at the border while one passenger got extra scrutiny from Customs and Immigration. We barely had time to pick up a rental car and drop our bags at our hotel before heading off the see Scott’s old fraternity brother, Chris, and Chris’s wife, Ginger. They have a summer house on Lake Champlain with gorgeous views of the lake and New York state on the other side. They fed us a great dinner we had a lovely time catching up and reminiscing.
Details
Well, today ends the Canada portion of our Canada trip. The itinerary says we’re traveling from here (Montreal) down to the city of my alma mater, Burlington, Vermont. Are we going by train? plane? car? boat? Nope. Rome2Rio said the best way to get to Burlington is by bus. Greyhound bus.
One last Canadian Uber gets us to the bus station. They’re redoing the esplanade in front of the bus station and I’m sure it’s going to be lovely when it’s done, but for now it’s making getting to the station a bit of a mess. Inside the terminal is clean and well designed with good signage, lots of places to sit, shops and cafes. Quite a pleasant surprise.
In my wallet I’m pretty sure I have just one last Canadian $20 bill left, and the bus ride is around two and a half hours or so, so we buy a couple of sandwiches and some snacks. I later (after being back in the US) discover I actually had two Canadian $20 bills left, so I guess we’ll have to plan a trip back. Maybe in some future year, mid-summer, to again escape the Texas heat.
Our luggage goes into the seedy underbelly of the bus after our tickets and passports pass muster. On the bus we find our seats, numbers 1 and 2. We’re the furthest forward seats other than the driver. It was an additional $5 per person but I figured the view would be worth it. I figured wrong. The visor, to block the sun, really blocked the view and the driver has a door/panel to keep the passengers behind the yellow line while we’re driving. As such we don’t get much of a view, at least not out the front.
The drive itself is fairly uneventful until we get to the US border. Our driver gives us a quick pep talk on how this is going to play out after which a US customs officer boards the bus and gives us another quick pep talk. The bottom line? We’re going to be asking your for your passport so don’t get up there and say “What? My passport? Hm, let me see if I can find it… Have it ready, kapeesh? Also, no pictures, none.”
Given our front seats we’re at the front of the line in the customs house. We all have to be in the building, with all of our carryon stuff, with the door closed before they’ll start the interrogations. The agents have a bored, steely eyed coldness to them, standing there in their bulletproof vests. When it’s our turn and we’re both up there the agent warmed up. “From Austin, eh? Are you up here to escape the heat? What would it be there now, about 120 degrees?” (On a good day, I reply with a smile). NEXT!
Back on the bus we’re pleased with how quickly that went and have high hopes for a speedy departure. 45 minutes later, still here awaiting our last bus compatriot, we’re less optimistic. Eventually a young Asian girl, with an armload of papers and forms, finally gets back on the bus. To my surprise there’s no cheering or clapping. I’m ready to join in on any such celebration but I guess I’m the only one.
I don’t notice a lot of difference between the two sides of the boarders, although the Canadian roads were much smoother and the convenience stores are now 7-11s rather than Tim Hortons.
We’ll be in Burlington for a few days and will be visiting friends from my college days and some who escaped the Texas heat by moving to Burlington. We have a delicately timed ballet to get to the bus station, to the airport, get our rental car, get wine, get to our hotel, and get down to see Chris and Ginger a half hour south of the city. We’re messaging them as we drive with updates on our progress.
Rental car in possession we head to a liquor store, or I should say “the liquor store”. In this state such vices are controlled by the state government and there are few stores and they have a limited selection. We’re having steak so I figure a good Malbec or a Cab. Choices, they’re minimal. I won’t have to do much head scratching. And what they have on offer is towards the “even at this low, low price” end of the quality scale. Yikes.
Driving down the driveway to the house, er cabin, we pass Ginger’s car with the license plate “GNGRSNP” (for Ginger Snap). Chris’s truck? It has the exact same vanity plate we learn. How can that be allowed? Apparently Vermont has car plates and truck plates and the two systems are completely separate. Very cool.
The cabin, bought by Chris’s dad back in the 1950s, is very cool. Kind of what you’d expect to see in a movie about lakeside camp life. There’s no insulation so you can see how each wall and ceiling are made and doing any electrical work is a breeze as all wires are completely visible. The view of the lake and Vermont (and New York across the water) is drop dead gorgeous.
Chris and I were in a fraternity together back in the late 70s (in the previous millennium). It was fun catching up and the grilled steak dinner with all the fixings was delicious. Lots of laughter and we didn’t get out of there til close to 11.
Photos
