The Thing About Roads

Aldo Leopold writes in "The River of the Mother of God" that wilderness is destroyed by our love for unexplored places and good roads.

Maybe that's why all the roads in Southern Vermont are terrible and the trees so magnificent.

You see, I just moved to beautiful Londonderry, Vermont. From Minnesota.

And Minnesota may not be as flat as Iowa, but we're flat enough. And our roads may not be the best, but they're good enough. Here it's the mountains, the Appalachian trail, Green Mountain National Forest, and the worst roads I have ever seen.

I learned this while driving my boss's new car from work back to my temporary place of residence.

I'd only been in the passenger seat of a car for this drive. Once. That morning. I had a map, but I've never been good with directions. 

"Even if you get lost, my husband left enough gas in the car that you won't run out driving around in circles," she said.

So as she, her husband, and the owners of the house I currently reside in drove off for the weekend, I was left to stumble my way through the fifteen minute drive to relaxation and dinner. I turned out of the office parking lot and onto my private maze of winding mountain roads.

Relaxation, dinner, and a lake view through floor to ceiling windows.

I made it through the first turn without a hitch. I could recall that much from my trip into the office.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if I could manage to keep the speed steady over all the ups and downs of the mountain.

I went straight past turn two. Cross the bridge first and then turn. 

Backtrack to turn two after pulling out from a blind drive, but don't even manage to spot turn three. I was positive I was going the wrong way again when I came across some road construction that hadn't been there in the morning. Back to turn two.

Feel the car bump under me. Hope the tire doesn't get caught in a huge crack and pull me into the ditch.

But, no, I had been going the right way. Squeeze past the construction crew on a narrow road with no trace of shoulder.

I think I almost went into shock when I came on turn four and made it first try.

Go slow on the gravel. Watch out for those deer!

Then it was down the wrong driveway. And down the wrong driveway agai-- Wait! That was it.

Park the car. Be happy at getting only more than slightly lost.



I'm making a virtue of a necessity while I'm here and trying to prove that you don't need a car to get around in rural America. It's not going to be easy living on two feet and borrowed wheels in a town of 1,700 people. But it's good for the environment, good for my health, and good for the wilderness. It's going to be one hell of a walk.