Leaving the Adirondacks was simplified like boiled down sugar; sweet and finally peaks on the East Coast. Nothing comparable to the Rockies, but truly definitely mountainous. A ferry from Plattsburgh to Vermont was speedy, cool from lake winds, and photolicious, and upon hitting ground on the VT side of Champlaigne, we could immediately tell we were in a new state. I love when governmental boundaries are also define by naturally geographic features. A stroll down Church St (designed by the same fellow responsible for Boulder’s Pearl Street) proved this city another great bastion of modern America. We’re at our night’s campground already, surrounded by French and Canadian tourists (and possibly some French Canadians), with a baby in a good moo and some brautworst ready to burn.