Deep Mountains

After the kerfuffle we caused with our previous post I figured we could all use something a little down tempo.

I believe Green Mountain culture is worthy of reverence. I grew up in the Northeast Kingdom. The region inspires awe in me to this very day. And the people hidden among the maples, the people that raised me, they’re the reason I love Vermont.

The following is a photo essay about a homecoming with friends.

– Thibault

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In the spring of 2013 we decided to brave mud season in maple country. We loaded the bikes and headed the back way up to the heart of the Kingdom to visit some dear friends at the Deep Mountain Maple sugarbush.

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As we pedaled along we spotted Dave harvesting some deadfall with Johnny.

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They took pause at the sight of our obese bikes and Johnny, who has more miles cycling than anyone on local back roads, took his turn on one of the fatties.

“Impressive!”

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A packed snow path extended beyond the dirt road’s end.

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We followed the tap lines until we spied the plume rising from the sugarhouse.

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Welcome to a place where time stands still.

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We were greeted by Deep Mountain’s proprietor, Howie, a most hospitable host.

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Water vapor rolled up through the rafters as the sap boiled down.

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None of us could stand by while the boys labored over the boiling pan.

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“You never sausage a place”
A cast iron pot contained dinner, boiled in sap of course.

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Thanks Howie, Ron, Penny and Brooke for the company on one of the  sweetest of days. Viva la Kingdom.

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