Category Archives: Escaping VT!

desperate spring

April 8, 2013

the smell of rain
the smell
of rain
the smell of
rain

Waiting on Spring, all rights reserved, Nicki Steel, 2013

Hugs between friends last a bit longer this time of year; while caffeine and chocolate consumption climbs. It’s not winter. It’s the in between time. The waiting. The last foot of snow. The slow melt.

Those of us who can’t leave, head east to Brattleboro, where a 10 mile difference makes for grass. Like winter refugees, we soak up their signs of spring; our lives held hostage by a hill. By mud. By a home. By a family to whom we’re expected to return, and to make dinner and small talk; when what we really want to do is drive south. And never stop.

(I can’t go. I can’t go. I can’t. Right? Even if friends post beach weather just 300 miles away. )

My husband suggests that I work down in Brattleboro this week. “It’s supposed to be sixties in town,” he says. “It will only make it to about 50 up here.”

I add another piece of wood to the stove and try to settle in with a cup of tea; but my mind is as itchy and inflamed as my skin; desperate to shed winter’s wool.

I look outside and note the increasing signs–the green cap of the septic tank, the garden beds, the dry patches of dead grass–indicating land in what has been a sea of snow. Despite this welcome melting, winter continues to trump spring; white beats brown; and my glass is half-empty, and leaking.

“Why don’t we go down to Brattleboro now,” my husband says.

Though it sounds like a booby prize to the beach, I reluctantly get dressed so that he and I can walk the streets downtown, without boots, and drift into shops, and join an event at the River Garden center which sits on the Connecticut and has a glass roof that lets in lots of light.

There we find live music and hot chai and loads of desserts and fellow refugees from up the hill. I hug one too long, as if holding on; and then I dash back toward the front entrance. Toward a sudden and unexpected rain. Not rain on snow which is a sad, sad thing. But rain on earth. And rain on roads. And rain on sidewalks and rooftops–and us.

Just as the sky really lets loose, the sun bursts onto the scene–with a rainbow–stretching across the Connecticut and touching down at the foot of Mt. Wantastiquet. People flock out the back exit onto the deck to see the promise of color; because even though Brattleboro has lost its snow, it is stalled in monochrome.

One man turns toward me, beaming, noting the sweet smell.

“Don’t you love it,” I say, restraining myself from embracing him.

“I smelled it this morning too,” he continues. “Up at our place where there’s still a foot of snow.”

“Two feet,” his wife counters.

“But it smelled like rain, even without earth,” he says.

I smile. And sniff. And consider the different scents that come with rain; and wonder if it has its own.

I walk back to the front entrance and smell the sidewalks and the road. I return to the deck and smell the wood and the earth and the river. I finish back at the road and stay there awhile because it takes me to my childhood. To rain on hot tar in Virginia. Lying face down in the road so that I could soak up every ounce of that delicious, fresh scent before the sun smoked it away.

We linger past the rain, and into the evening at the River Garden, and when we finally head home, into the hills of snow, I feel freer. I decide to stay put. To be here to bear witness to my own spring’s emergence–to the return of our very first Robin; and even more beholding–to the appearance of a baseball–tribute to the life once lived–right here–where it shall return again.

Kelly Salasin, Marlboro, VT, April 8, 2013

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Posted by kellysalasin in Day in a Life VT, Escaping VT!, Mud Season, Seasons, Spring, VT Community, VT Poetic, VT Survival Tags: baseball, Brattleboro, desperate for spring, Marlboro, mud season, River Garden, signs of spring, snow melting

Mom, There’s a Fish in the Toilet!

September 2, 2011

On the day after Irene assaulted Vermont, the word on the road was that we could be without power for up to a month. When we saw what the flood did to Route 9 (the main highway across our state) we didn’t doubt it.

My husband and I began talking about leaving. “Maybe we should head down to family in New Jersey,” he said.

But of course, we had jobs; and the kids had school–maybe; and we wanted to be in town to help when there was someway to get to the others who had been harder hit than us.

Fortunately or unfortunately, we were stuck like everyone else. No one was heading out of town on these badly damaged back roads, let alone a Honda Civic, when even the National Guard couldn’t even make it down our road with tires bigger than me.

We resigned ourselves to living the way we know how to live without power–candles, and jugs of water, and simple meals; only we couldn’t use the front porch as refrigerator as we did after a winter storm.

Once again we envied those with generators, and talked about getting one ourselves, but I was always wary about the dangers, and it wasn’t the loss of the refrigerator or the lights that hit me the hardest–but the absence of flushing toilets.

I know it’s not very Vermont of me, and I did always want an outhouse with a moon-shaped cut out on the door, but instead I sent my husband down our driveway and across the road to the pond, to fill up a bucket with water, and pour it carefully into the tank of the downstairs toilet so that we might get at least one flush a day.

Thus, the next morning, after my husband left for work, it didn’t take me long to figure out what happened when my young son called up from the bathroom to say,

“Mom, there’s a fish in the toilet!”

But it was the last straw.

“What do you mean?” I called down the stairs, just as desperately.

“A fish, Mom. There’s an actual fish in the toilet,” he replied.

“Is it alive?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“How big is it?”

And we continued this separate floor conversation like this until I told him, “Just scoop it out, and take it back to the pond.”

“Can’t I just flush it, Mom?” he asked.

“No!” I replied, “It will die. Just scoop it out and take it back to the pond.”

I know it was a big request for a tiny thing that he’d string on a fishing pole on any other day, but after seeing the devastation to my town, I couldn’t bear another loss, however small.

“I can’t” he replied quietly.

“Why? Just get a cup or something.”

“I can’t… because I’ve already used the bathroom.”

“Pee?” I asked.

“Nope,” he replied.

“Oh.”

And so I resigned myself to sending this poor little unsuspecting fish who survived the Great Flood of 2011 to its end in our septic tank.

“Go ahead and flush,” I called to my son, as one who selfishly demanded water for her toilet.

Kelly Salasin, Marlboro, Vermont, 2011

For other posts from Vermont after the flood, click here.

Posted by kellysalasin in Day in a Life VT, Escaping VT!, Hurricane Irene, Seasons, Summer, VT Community, VT Survival Tags: flushing toilets, helping others, Marlboro Vermont, Neringa Pond, no power, no water, parenting, road damage, Vermont floods

2 comments

I’ve Known Roads…

August 31, 2011

If only I could write a tribute to roads like Langston Hughes bestowed upon rivers, but there’s no poetry in me this week, and none like his.

That anything could wash away thoughts of murder inside the Co-op is unfathomable, until Irene. On the morning after she hit our unsuspecting mountaintop town, I ran down my driveway toward Neringa. There I found clusters of neighbors in sober conversation, and passed them without a word, continuing toward the mangled dock that crossed the pond where the dam was surprisingly holding steady.

I continued down the road alone until I came to the bridge that crossed over to the camp and saw that in its place was a gaping span of… nothing.

“We’re stranded,” called a young woman from the other side, “There are a hundred of us.”

“I know,” I called back over the rushing water. “I’m so sorry this happened while you were here.”

Bridge washed out at Neringa, MacArthur Rd, Marlboro, VT; photo: Camp Neringa, August 2011

These wedding guests had flown in from Toronto, and others from California, while one had come from as far as Lithuania. We shouted some more across the roar of the Whetstone–about water and food and generators–before turning our backs on one another on opposite sides of what had once been whole.

I held back tears as I continued down MacArthur Road where I came across more neighbors helping one another over the gaping pits where sections of our road once stood. At the bottom of the hill, the underbelly of MacArthur was completely exposed–revealing gravel and dirt and a culvert many times my size. With hesitation, I leaped over it to make my way toward the Route 9.

MacArthur Road, photo from Catherine Hamilton, August 2011.

I’ve written about the highway that crosses Southern Vermont before, about the lives its mountainous curves stole from our community—a dear friend in her twilight years, the 21-year-old nephew of the kindergarten teacher, and an 8 year-old peer of my son’s from a neighboring town. Typically teaming with travelers, Route 9 was barren this morning, and eerily so; so clear of traffic that I could lie down in the middle of the highway and have a photo snapped of me there.

Instead I continued up it, past the hill where young Kayla died, and without any specific destination in mind. I’d never walked along Route 9 before, at least not with such an unsettling sense of safety, and I couldn’t stop. For awhile, it was only me and the butterflies until I passed a man coming down the road with a wax bag in his hand.

“Sweeties isn’t actually open, is it!” I asked, and he nodded his head, and kept walking.

A half-mile later, I stood inside the darkened store, relieved to see Michaela, a graduate of Marlboro College, attempting to make coffee and sandwiches for the community; and Ashleigh–a Brattleboro Highschool student, arriving to work by some heroic effort of her mother; and Rose, a town official, bending over a large map, helping travelers find routes home should any open.

Though I hadn’t thought to bring any cash with me on my walk, I was able to create a tab so that I could take home some groceries and a wax-bagged treat of my own while stranded guests from the other wedding across town left with six-packs, and brownie mix–which perplexes me still.

I passed other explorers on my way back down Route 9, and when I arrived bact at the intersection of MacArthur, it was crowded. A mini-van was abandoned there, atop a pile of rocks and trees, and someone said that it had been a traveler caught up in debris when the Whetstone Brook took the road and turned Route 9 into a grander expression of itself, rushing east toward Brattleboro.

By now, the sun had risen on the day, and although I was overdressed for the coming heat and unprepared for such a trek as I had already taken, I found myself passing MacArthur by, and continuing east on Route 9, to see what others had described as indescribable.

There at the edge of town, about a mile further down the highway, I approached Steve’s Auto Body Shop where half of Route 9 had neatly collapsed, right at the yellow line, into the rushing stream that didn’t used to be there below. Beside this section of missing highway stood a small sign which politely read, “Sidewalk Closed.”

No sign was needed for what lie just passed Steve’s. It was a destination so awe-inspiring that it had attracted elders and mothers with baby carriages for what was sure the most apocalyptic view of this flood’s devastation.

Route 9 had simply vanished, and a river took its place below. Some said a hundred, others two, and I can’t recall how many feet stood between me and the other side of what was once the highway, but it made me laugh when I recollected the span each time drivers rolled down their windows near MacArthur to ask, “Is it passable up ahead?”

Often these travelers would persist, as if I hadn’t noticed that they had good clearance and four-wheel drive; and then I would have to be firm:

“There is no road up ahead. It no longer exists.”

And if they still looked dubious, I would explain that even if they could, by some miraculous Evil Knieval feat, daredevil their way across what many called the Grand Canyon, they would find similar canyons all along Route 9 heading east into Brattleboro–each with ten to twenty-foot pits below.

Then these desperate souls, hoping to get home to work or to pets or to children even, would turn their heads toward MacArthur, asking if there was any chance…

“Not even the National Guard, on a rescue mission, with tires bigger than your car, could get through last night.” I’d say.

Similarly, the roads heading West into Wilmington were closed, and those in the north, and in every direction; so that these drivers turned around, one by one, resigned to being stuck like the rest of us. Some slept at the church or at the Inn or inside their cars, I suspect.

By the time I hiked back up to my house, the boys were awake and ready to do some of their own exploring. Their father took them out while I went upstairs to lie down, drifting into the sweetest, exhausted reverie I have ever known until the sound of a helicopter circling my home, not once, but three times, brought me to standing as I heard it land across the pond to sounds of cheers.

I jumped up then and dashed out my door to make my way over the mangled dock, and up the path to Neringa’s field where I came across 100 wedding guests huddled together as the chopper lifted back into the sky.

I caught the last words of an announcement made by a bearded man from Toronto: “If we have any medical emergencies, they’ll airlift them out,” he said, “but for now MacArthur Road and the bridge to Neringa are not high on the priority list.”

I stayed on to talk to some of the guests, and drew maps of possible routes out of Marlboro should the backroads be cleared and someone come to fetch them. (They would have to leave their cars behind, most of which were rentals.)

And then I returned home once again, and slipped out of my clothes, and into bed, and slept–for the rest of the day–stirring now and again to the sound of more aircraft—the Red Cross, the governor, the National Guard—only to let my head drop heavily back on the pillow in what felt like a drugged stupor.

The air was crisp, the sky beautiful, and my home–and even my steep driveway–uncannily untouched by the devastation that was all around me. From under my covers, the world was more tranquil than ever. There were no cars passing on MacArthur and no whine of 18 wheelers from Route 9. The house was silent too–absent of the hum of appliances or the ringing of phones.

I couldn’t bear to think about how long we’d be without power or how much it would take to repair these roads or how hard others may have been hit, and so I slept as long as I could. The sublime quiet brought me back to the days after 9/11–when our skies were as empty as our roads were now.

In my 47 years, I’ve known roads—mud strewn ones and flooded ones—empty ones and crowded ones–worn ones and brand new ones–but I’d never known anything like today. My soul has grown deep with our roads, deeper than I ever knew.

Listening to the road, Kelly Salasin, August 2011

Kelly Salasin, August 2011

Hurricane Irene

Marlboro, Vermont

Resources:

Road Closings/Openings

Vermonters Helping Vermonters

FEMA Reimbursement for home & business owners in Marlboro

Governor Shumlin on CNN

Video: Neringa Before & After Neringa, including footage of MacArthur Rd & Rte 9:

Click here for more on Vermont and roads and the history of this place we call home, by road namesake, Robin MacArthur.

Posted by kellysalasin in BFC Tragedy, Escaping VT!, Hurricane Irene, Seasons, Summer, Voices, VT Community, VT Survival Tags: BFC tragedy, Brattleboro, bridge collapse, Camp Neringa, community, flooding, Hurricane Irene, MacArthur Road, Marlboro, road destruction, Route 9, Vermont, wedding guests stranded

15 comments

Travel Tips from Facebook (FB) Friends

March 28, 2011

I’m not sure what this travel piece is doing on my Vermont blog, except that it’s so000000 good to get outta here every now and then–especially after 5 months of the white stuff!

Every Vermonter has the fantasy of escaping at least part of winter–or better yet–to take off during that dreadful time of year that we don’t mention in travel brochures: MUD season!

So why am I so anxious about leaving smack in the middle of it? I guess I’m STUCK. It’s been 2 decades since I settled into these Green Mountains, and even longer since I traveled abroad.

mud tires, Waloszek (visipix.com)

I used to be a rolling stone… an Army brat who attended at a half-dozen different schools in as many states… and then backpacked through Europe 3 times before setting some roots.

Which is why despite the fact that they put their early SPRINGS in my face, I appreciate my Facebook friends. In the past few weeks, they’ve shared their best travel tips, helping thaw my “cold feet” when it comes to finally leaving this place I call home.

Facebook Friends Travel Tips

MONEY. How do you bring it, spend it, keep it safe?

FB Replies: 7

ATM machines then keep cash close to your body.

Careful at ATMs. If a machine doesn’t work and someone offers to help you.

Check bank and credit cards for the rate they charge for using them abroad – use the one that has the best rate.

ATM’s totally. It’s all I use. Also – I always have at least two cards, just in case something goes wrong with one of them

Don’t use your debit card as a debit card – only a credit card. Know your PIN for your credit cards so you can get cash. And yes, bring 2 for sure.

Wear a money belt

Let your credit card companies where you’ll be traveling so that they expect charges from there. Sometimes they refuse charges if you are not a frequent traveler!

Hodler, detail, visipix.com

What do I wear on an overnight flight so that so that I don’t arrive feeling wilted?

FB Replies: 12

Black yoga pant & tunic-type top–like one of the nice kurtas from Dragonfly. Or leggings and short dress…..comfy if you can. Also, you will get your luggage before you see your hosts (go through customs, etc.), so you can freshen up, change, etc. in the bathroom.

I ALWAYS wear stretchy pants on the plane

Take Ambien.

Do not take Ambien.

I knew she would say that.

Wear support socks so you feet and legs don’t swell- bring toothbrush, hair product and light make-up on the plane.

Jammies, of course!

Lavender oil.

You are over thinking this… You are a traveler, you know how to travel! You have a personal style that’s carried you through thus far, rock that & they’ll love you, almost, just as much as I/we do…

White no wrinkle shirt–white always makes people look fresh and perky (honest!) so the black pants and white top, maybe a scarf and you look professional, refreshed and good to go!

You can freshen up in the rest room before going to luggage claim.
In Japan they actually had full shower rigs and lockers for a fee.

We flew to Hawaii once and before we landed they gave us hot towel/face cloths. Felt great!

visipix.com

Must haves for the flight?

Facebook replies: 15

I like to carry a pareo/sarong in my carry on bag. Works great as a blanket or pillow or throw it on as a shawl, also can become a makeshift bag if needed, you’ll find many uses. It’s a nice lightweight addition to my carry on.

Wear your biggest shoes.

Charcoal capsules.

Make a small 1st aid kit…. including benedryl, advil, bandaids etc

book notebook pen pencil sedoku camera socks pashmina
bandaid earplugs eye mask hand cream trashy magazine almonds gum mints advil cough drop lip balm chocolate

Take your sister!

fruit, or what ever you plan on eating that day, no yogurt or jams, phone, it’s charger, only take jewerly you are wearing, empty water bottle/canteen…

I always wear a scarf on the plane — if someone near me even hints of sneezing/coughing/sniffling, I wrap the scarf around my nose/mouth….

Do you have a neck pillow? I have an extra — makes a huge difference for sleeping on the long flight

your fav herbal tea bags

This is the best list.. love the scarf idea…i’m taking notes..

What is a pareo or a pashima?

I do the large scarf idea, too. Also, peppermint gum for any ear-popping or turbulence upset.

Some Elderberry tincture. One for the way there and one for the way back

Anything that may be needed just in case the checked baggage does not arrive in a timely manner

Check it or carry it on?

FB replies: 4

Be careful of the weight on that roomy suitcase. Going over the weight limit can cost you big. Make sure you keep your valuables with you. I usually carry my backpack with laptop and purse inside and then have my camera bag for my camera equipment, if I am taking it. Though I think they allow a camera bag as a third bag.

Emotional baggage limited to two checked pieces and one carry on…… So on second thought bring as little as possible!

Bring as little as possible, and pack an extra, stuffable duffle for the way home. Or bring stuff that you are happy to leave along the way in order to make space for what you collect. I also suggest having as little carry on as possible, particularly if traveling solo–it makes airport wandering and visits to the loo MUCH easier! Bon Voyage!

Beware: They now charge for carry ons unless they fit under the seat infront of you

Do you carry or check your toiletries? Any other toiletry tips?

FB replies: 16

How long is your flight/layovers? I carry what I may need in case of delay, like toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, lip balm, and an all in one shampoo-conditioner. Also will the 3 ounce size you are allowed to carry on be enough for your trip?

check ‘em! 3 oz is not much! I pack them in freezer ziplock bags. Easy to see what’s what and protects against spillage…Did you ever check out Rick Steve’s site? He’s the ultimate traveler.

Ricksteves.com

You have to check any liquids/gels, so you’ll probably have to check your toiletries. sometimes i carry on a toothbrush sans toothpaste. but it’s really easier to check liquids/gels than make sure they’re small enough and in a clear plastic bag and you have to take it out as you go through security…big pain in ass.

CHECK them, different airports (believe it or not) allow different items, it’ll be a bummer to loose your coveted cleaning gear to tsa… Yes on toiletries bag, soo many nice ones out there these days…

Take the 3 oz items lotion, tp & put em in a sandwich baggie…

Think about what you might like to have on you in case of excess layover, or (the unspeakable) lost luggage…

Heck your ‘toiletries’ bag. You’ll need more than 3oz for you entire trip, the kind of shopping you want to be doing is for fun, not hairproducts, trust me & think of me, lol, while shooping for fun! Carry on in sandwich bag some toothpaste & lotion. Chances are your luggage will NOT get lost, that is not what you are manifesting.

If you’re checking luggage, check your toiletries, except for toothpaste etc. I travel for 2 weeks at a time, use only carry on, and shampoo etc is enough. If not, you can always buy some there. I check gel all the time, no issue.

I meant, as long as ligquids are 3.4 oz or less, you can take gel etc. I’ve never had any toiletry items removed as in the correct amount.

http://www.tsa.gov/311/index.shtm
TSA link with specifics and link to international rules. It is 3.4 oz.

Also, hotels usually provide shampoo etc. so I either alternate using mine with the hotel, or use mine until it runs out and then use the hotel. I hate checking bags….

my mom’s toiletry bag just split this morning while visiting and the little shampoo bottle inside was leaking too. get a “travel/adventure gear” option from sams instead of a drug store version. more rugged. on the other hand, i spent 5 months washing my hair with the free liquid soap now available in every public bathroom in the world and that works just fine.