The church in Highgate Springs is unusual in that the steeple is black unlike most of New England's white-topped churches. It sits apart from the few homes in this small border town and is the only public fixture.
I truly appreciated my light load.
I crossed the border back into Vermont at quiet Clarenceville, Quebec. It was so devoid of cars that I waited at this gate for several minutes before yelling over to the Canadian building beside me, but to no avail. Sure, I could've gone around the gate, but as frequent travelers to Canada I know not to provoke the authorities. There are too many high speed chases and illegal aliens and drug traffickers nabbed at these ports. I backtracked and slowly followed a sign on a sidewalk that splits the building. I looked in at the darkened glass window and still didn't see a soul so I crept slowly by until a female guard came out. She was a bit taken aback by my entry, but eventually waved me away explaining that I wasn't as heavy as a car to automatically raise the gate.
—I feared a bird at first glance—but I still moved, not wanting any sticky residue in my hair. Once again, it's pleasant with low humidity. I couldn't have chosen any better with weather. I finished my novel before nodding off, a fitting final night "on the road."
Lake Sojourn - Part Three