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Vermont Cheese Tour Day Two



Brattleboro is a quaint town. It reminds me of Lowell, only smaller. Old brick buildings, staring down at and ganging up on, the boisterous river which hurries through town as quickly as it can.

A few cafes, a few bars, a few restaurants, they all provide a thread to the familiar city-life, even though the town is a little dot surrounded by and awful lot of green.

Grabbing a breakfast burrito to eat in the peculiarly named Pliny Park ( Pliny was never here, surely?) gave me the time to look a bit more at this Main Street town.

The rushing falls to power industry? The narrowest bridge point? I tried to make a note of checking the history of the place when I get back home. Service industry would probably be high on the list today, I imagine.


Leaving town was of course uphill, and in one of those so-called ‘Bike Lanes’ which is nothing more than a fading white line 1 metre from the curb. Come on road designers, you’ll find that white lines are no deterrent to errant vehicles.

But the road also took me along the Connecticut River - at differing distances, so that I couldn’t always see it, but the River and New Hampshire were never far until I reached Putney, when a left hook took me deeper inside Vermont. Uphill of course.

Until the end of the day, the riding would now consist of riding over the spurs of land which start inland and punched their way into the Connecticut River.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Gravel.