Serendipity Ferry
Saying "yes" to surprising adventures
Fall has long been my favorite season – the nip in the air, the kaleidoscope of colors, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the blankets, and the first fire. Middle Tennessee is graced with beautiful fall seasons, and for years my family enjoyed a place in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where we went every October to take in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains. There was no shortage of fall experiences in my life, yet as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to see the leaves and mountains in Vermont during the fall. Last week I finally did.
When I realized a few months ago that I was still too impaired from long Covid to hike in Colorado, which had been my hope, I decided to indulge this alternate bucket list item. I embraced traveling solo and arranged for a slow-paced, relaxing trip driving back roads the length of Vermont. I flew up, rented a car, stayed in interesting places (including unique restored homes from the 1800s), followed my own schedule – lodging reservations the only planned necessity – and ate when and where I wanted. Perfect!
Better yet, I physically felt well the entire trip – healthier and stronger over a consistent stretch than I have in more than a year. (Yay, MamaGod, for that positive answer to scores of fervent prayers.) My travel agent had identified easy-to-moderate hiking options for each morning and afternoon along the route, so that I’d have a ready trail whenever I felt like hiking. I had decided that I would relish seeing the woods even if I could only walk a few dozen yards into them (practicing my positive outlook), but I was surprised and grateful to feel like my energetic self.
Each day included an adventure, starting with a moderate hike at the top of Killington Mountain, full of rock scrambling reminiscent of Kilimanjaro. (I rode a gondola to the top, which was itself a cool adventure that remarkably didn’t trigger my historical extreme fear of heights.) In Northern Vermont I hiked a couple of miles of the Long Trail, which is the oldest and longest designated hiking trail in the U.S. and the prototype informing the creation of the Appalachian Trail. Other days I walked less strenuous routes in state parks, which were equally beautiful.
An unexpected gift of the trip came as a pair of hiking poles – yes, simple trekking aids. I own expensive aluminum poles that have taken me hundreds of miles including to Kilimanjaro, but even when collapsed they are too long to fit into my small, checked bag. (TSA doesn’t allow them in carry-on luggage.) I decided to buy an inexpensive pair when I got to Vermont, and I mentioned that to a former Bethesda staff leader who lives in Albany, NY, my flight destination for easy access into southern Vermont. He was planning to meet me for a drive-through and possible hike in one of his favorite local settings. I asked if he knew of a convenient store that might carry baseline hiking poles, and he said he’d research it.
But he also took the next step and gifted me with a pair – simple, adjustable, inexpensive poles – perfect for my needs. (Oh, the tender power of being seen and heard.) The poles proved invaluable, especially when I had energy far beyond what I had expected – strength for significant hikes close to my norm before I started intense training for Kilimanjaro. I’ve always found trekking poles helpful, but at this stage of my physical recovery, these hikes, including the one I took with my pole-gifting friend, likely would have been impossible without their support.
When I was preparing for my flight home at the end of the week, I found that these inexpensive poles also wouldn’t collapse enough to take home. I really wanted someone else to enjoy them, and it “happened” that when I described my leaf-viewing and hiking adventure to the sweet hotel shuttle driver, she mentioned that her daughter hiked, including in the park where I had gone the first day with my friend. When I asked if her daughter used hiking poles, she said no but that she had mentioned wanting some. I gave Anita the poles for her daughter to use, and she received them like some enormous Christmas gift! What a sweet, simple story – a reminder that both receiving and giving gifts can be enormously meaningful.
From the planning stages, I had determined that my approach to the Vermont adventure would be YES! I would try new things, order the special instead of something familiar, explore any road that beckoned or interrupted me, chat with people along the way, and roll with the punches, embracing the unexpected. That strategy, admittedly outside my typical style that demands plans, paid off handsomely, but one stands out.
The last day included driving the length of Vermont back to where I started the adventure for an early flight home the next morning. I put “Albany” into my Waze app, and when it brought up several routes, I chose the first one. A notice popped up “Route includes ferry,” but I didn’t think it meant for the one I had selected, which I assumed was the normal interstate option – the road more traveled. I ignored the quickly disappearing alert and obediently followed the prescribed navigation, as I had done all week. For over an hour I wound among beautiful mountains and through nearly empty countryside along nearly empty roads. A time or two I thought it surprising that this was the way people regularly navigate to New York State, but I didn’t give it much attention. The beauty and peacefulness of the scenery was too compelling, and Waze had never steered me wrong. I was saying yes.
Eventually, I turned onto “Ferry Road,” but the implication of the name didn’t register – until a sign a while later read, “Ferry, 2 miles.” That’s when it hit me: I was being taken to a real ferry! I literally laughed out loud at the fun surprise. I admit I wouldn’t have knowingly chosen this option – it felt a bit scary to do alone, but I squelched the thought that advised I ask Waze for a re-route involving a bridge instead of a ferry. I continued on until the road ended at the ferry stop, watched as a 24-car ferry churned across Lake Champlain, drove onto it, was enchanted by the experience, and landed in Essex, NY. What a blast!
During the voyage, I got out of the car for the 25-minute ride and had a delightful conversation with two young bicyclists who were pedaling and camping through the weekend. From the bow of the ferry, the view of the Adirondack mountains was stunning, the quintessential picture of Vermont in the fall. It was one of the best experiences of the whole adventure.
Even if you don’t have the leisure of retirement, life is too short not to say yes to the serendipity ferry that graces your path. You’re perhaps more likely to find these experiences on roads less traveled, but they can be anywhere you’re present enough to notice them, or better yet, to watch for them. When you spot one, take delight and embrace it.
These “coincidences” are sweet evidence of the certain presence of a loving (and fun) God.
Marnie C. Ferree
Founder, Bethesda Workshops
