Thursday, August 13, 2009


There's a place, a woodsy and watery place, a very quiet and peaceful place tucked away in the mountains of Vermont.

It is not an easy place to find. Take a dirt road to another dirt road to a dirt path. The entrance is not marked (or it wasn't last time we were there 7 years ago).

If you are able to find the road, and you don't value your car's suspension, you are in for a treat.

Green River Reservoir is 653 acres of water surrounded by 5110 acres of wilderness.

You'll need a canoe, paddle boat, kayak, or any other water craft which is powered by a human being. No gas powered anything allowed. It has been designated a "quiet" lake by the smart lawmakers of Vermont.

Back when I liked Olive, I'd let her sit in my lap in the kayak. She didn't seem to mind getting knocked on the head with the paddle. We'd toodle along, no particular destination. She'd bark when she heard a loon, or when she saw someone catch a fish.

 Sometimes I'd put the paddle away and read a book, letting myself drift where ever.

While I wandered around, Al would be in his own boat fishing. I'd check in on him, take a picture if he caught something good; he always threw them back.

  When Al told the park ranger that he caught this 20 pound pike on 8lb test (after quite the battle I tell you, my cries of "Holy Shit!! What IS THAT??!!" echoed off the trees, we both got soaked;  look how proud he is!)  and threw it back, the ranger told him that;

a) He should have kept it because they aren't supposed to be in there and are upsetting the fishy balance and;

b) That fish he threw back was probable a state record.

Besides fishing and lazy kayaking, the reservoir offers 28 campsites. The only way to get camping is to paddle out to your site. Some sites are a 2 mile paddle. Cool.

Each site offers such luxuries as, a place to put your tent, a log to sit on, and a little beach.

You will be peeing and pooping in the woods. You will have nowhere to plug in your laptop. If you bring an iPod you will miss out on the silence which is only broken by the loons singing to each other, and to you.

The first time we visited the reservoir, it was in a rented canoe on Al's 31st birthday. We were awed by the beauty and serenity of the place as we explored.

My back was to the shoreline and Al says to me;

"Naked people."

I always fall for his crap, so I didn't turn around;

"You're so full of shit, naked people my ass."

"Ok fine, but I'm looking at naked people. You don't want to look,  that's your choice."

Of course I looked. Naked people. In broad daylight, walking on a little beach heading towards the water. Not young naked people, naked grandparents.

"Cool! I wanna get naked! Let's find a beach!"

I got naked. A lot.

Whenever we camped there, swimming was always naked, night or day. We got a great site once with a little cliff off of which we jumped, naked, into the water.

(click to enlarge map)

Al is going to revisit our favorite spot this fall. Myself and the kids will not be joining him. I think it will be many years before we take the kids.

They'll need to be old enough to have their own campsite, far, far away from their father and their old naked mother.


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