Stumbled across this thread when searching for something else and I realized I never reported on last year’s trip.
We were in a small town (Enosburg Falls) for a gathering for internet friends. Great fun there. While staying there, we crossed over into Canada twice: the first day, to attend a burial service for one member’s mother (mom had passed away the previous year, friend had lived in southern Quebec as a child, mom was being buried at their family church). We popped into a restaurant just across the street afterwards, l’Oeuf. The border crossing into Canada was quick but mildly amusing; when asked what we were doing we said we were attending a burial. As it was me, and two other members of the group (who happen to live near me) the crossing guard was a bit surprised “you came all the way from Virginia just for a funeral?”. We assured him that no, we were coming anyway for vacation but the timing worked out.
Returning, the US border guard looked a bit more suspicious - the only time anyone has demanded to see the rental car paperwork.
Spent the next day hanging out with friends; people went to different places depending on their interest. A bunch of us went to the Church Street Marketplace in downtown Burlington, which I’d visited before, and had loads of fun. Then there was a general vote that we had to see Ben and Jerry’s (I wasn’t interested, but what the heck…). My passenger and I drove back out of the way because we wanted to see the Trapp Family lodge. My friend was a bit nervous about whether we were getting lost, as we were driving some odd roads (including one very brief unpaved stint) but the phone had a good signal.
Next day a bunch of us first went to Cold Hollow Sculpture Park, then up to Sutton, QC for lunch and a bit of shopping. Cute, touristy town with lots of shops to visit; I wish we’d had an hour or so longer to spend. Northbound border crossing was unremarkable, soutbound got a great deal of suspicion from the border guard (different crossing from 2 days before).
He was presented with a minivan full of 4 adults from Virginia and 1 from Michigan, all claiming to have just been up there for some food and shopping. “There HAS to be MORE THAN THAT!!!”, he snarled, “Where are you staying here???”. We explained we were visiting with people and staying at such-and-such place, and I guess we didn’t look guilty enough to give him any reason to rip the car apart, so he let us go.
Next day to visit my daughter in Rutland (we picked her up at Dartmouth, then took her back to her place), some shopping and dinner, and we stayed at our usual motel there. Lunch with her the next day, then we hit the road for Sherbrooke and ultimately Ile d’Orleans. I wanted to cross at Stanstead so I could see the library that crosses the border. We hit there late afternoon, and we actually exited the highway to get to the surface border crossing (the highway would have taken us to a different one). And I almost immediately saw a sign for “Cars entering the US” which had me panicking that i’d somehow crossed into Canada by accident. So I pulled up to the border crossing and asked, and was reassured that no, we were fine - we needed to make a 180-degree turn and go down a steep hill to the Canadian entrance.
Which presented us with the only time a Canadian crossing guard was perplexed by us. We had all our suitcases in the car (as well as one for one of our friends who were taking the train home; they assured us there was nothing contraband in it). We also had a large black plastic trunk / foot locker, that contained bags and bags of snacks we’d brought for the gathering that previous weekend. He asked “What is in that unusual luggage?” and I explained - and he didn’t bother looking inside.
Dinner in Sherbrooke at a poutine restaurant with one of our former students, then off to Ile d’Orleans where we’d booked a small house through Air BnB. I was texting the owner (and lemme tell you, Swype does not grok French and made some surprising autocorrects). Finally got there well after dark, not helped by the fact that we went right vs straight at the only traffic light.
Next day we hung around the island - visited a restaurant for lunch, then a few chocolate shops etc. There was a piece of land for sale very near the house: river access. Shame we have neither the time nor money to take advantage of it, or we’d’ve been very, very tempted. A friend drove down from her village (look at a large capital J: her house is on the south shore of the river, northeast of us, so she had to drive down into Quebec City, cross the river, then back up, and across the one bridge to the island) - dinner at Les Ancetres.
The next day we went to Montmorency Falls, which is stunning. We took the cable car up, and were going to walk down it but it was extremely rainy, and I don’t deal well with stairs (tend to slip and break bones) so discretion won out and we took the cable car back down. The zipline wasn’t working either. Evidently there’s a train from there up to the Charlevoix region, which I’d love to try some other trip. Then into Quebec City itself to wander around, do a little shopping, and have some late lunch. We could see where they were beginning to set up for the music festival. Back to the island for dinner and bed.
Next day was a leisurely departure. We stopped at one of the larger cidreries on the island to get a few bottles to take home (carefully staying under the limit). Strawberries had JUST come available so we got a couple of quarts, which did not make it to the border ;). We filled the car at the one gas station on the island - my husband managed to spend the last of our Canadian currency on that and had to supplement with US, which I’m sure annoyed them but the exchange rate was in their favor at the time.
I wanted to drive down Moose Alley - US 3 just south of the only crossing in New Hampshire - so we took a very different route back. Virtually all surface roads, only the tiniest of towns en route, and one 10-mile stretch on unpaved road. No luck spotting anything lunch-like, so we finally wound up stopping at a little ice cream shop, where I suspect they don’t have much in the way of US tourists. I managed to make myself understood enough to find out that they would take a credit card, and was able to ask about one of the sundaes shown: “porc-epic” which sounded like a play on “Porky Pig” and “porc” = “pork”, so I asked if it was “cochon” in bafflement. She knew the word “Rice Krispies”. We got something more recognizable, and thanks to my peanut-allergic son I knew what she was asking when she asked if we wanted “arachides” (peanuts). I looked it up later and “porc-epic” = “porcupine”.
Finally to the US crossing, around 5:00 or so. That one was a bit odd: we drove into what was basically a garage and he rolled the door down behind us. Usual questions, “what were you doing, how long did you stay, what did you bring back”. He actually opened the lid of our big cooler - though the way it was hinged, he couldn’t see inside it at all (the hinge was on his side). Dunno if he was looking to see how we reacted, or maybe there was some chemical sniffer, or whatever. In any case we were sent on our way.
We did, FINALLY, see a moose. A cow moose, no antlers, just alongside the road approaching Pittsburg, NH. She remained still just long enough for me to snap one photo. We filled up our car in the town then headed west toward northern Vermont. That was actually the only time on our whole trip where we had zero cell signal. We were pretty well paralleling the Canadian border most of that drive. We did spot one more moose along the road (also a cow).
All in all, that day’s driving was possibly the most remote / least populated / most rural I’ve ever done, short of the US desert southwest.
We stayed at a hotel in White River Junction that night. The next day, we were fueling the car and my husband fetched me to help another customer who was a) non-native-English-speaking, and b) having trouble with the credit card machine on the gas pump. It took a couple minutes before we understood each other, as he was not Quebecois, but… Brazilian!. My husband just heard “an accent” and assumed “French”. Oh well, at least the poor fellow may not have figured out how atrocious my French is!
