The border crossing at Highgate Springs was easy. Too easy. No lines, no drama. No official acknowledgement of my heartbreak at leaving Canada so soon.
Our passports were scanned and we were waved on.
We are heading into Vermont late in the afternoon.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be back in Canada, following my original plans and enjoying the company of those with whom I had planned to pursue those dreams. Tears and resentment make it hard to see or appreciate anything much.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. It’s not OK. I’m not OK.
Take me back. Please?
The RV rumbles down highway 89.
In the hope of finding somewhere to stay overnight, we pull in to an information centre.
The guy there tells us that there are no campgrounds open yet – the “season” doesn’t start until May 1. Then he tells us that there are no “travel plaza” truck stops in Vermont, because “that kind of commercialisation” is not what Vermont is about.
I’m over it.
Let’s turn around and go back to Canada.
No, eh? Damn.
Another traveller informs us that Walmart allow/welcome campers in their parking lots because they know there is nowhere else for them to go at this time of year.
The information centre guy fills his ‘information’ role by googling Walmart locations for us. Thanks buddy, but we are capable of doing that ourselves.
We head for Montpelier and Barre in the hope of finding a friendly Walmart.
Thank God we are self-sufficient. And thank God for Walmart.