Thompson Hill Campground

The area continues to be affected by Tropical Storm Henri. It’s much hotter and muggier than usual. Even the locals we talk to complain of the humidity. We rise early again to do the bulk of our riding before noon.

The ride starts off from St. Johnsbury on a rail trail. It’s misty and gloomy under the dense tree canopy. Perfect riding conditions. We pass some dog walkers at first and then we have the trail to ourselves for about an hour. It’s peaceful but it feels like we’re riding in a tunnel. I’m a bit relieved when we reach Danville and turn onto a proper road again.

The road from Danville to Peacham has been repaved. It feels effortless to ride the rolling terrain. What a treat!

From Peacham to Groton we have a big descent that ends with a steep pitch into the village. Weighted down with all my gear, my bike can’t stop me for the stop sign at the end of the grade. I roll through, brakes howling. There’s so little traffic that I don’t risk getting in an accident, but it makes me wish for the hydraulic brakes on Carrie’s bike.

After Groton we have a steep climb. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds at the steepest bit. We’re both glistening with sweat, puffing away, waiting for the top to come.

When it does come we get to enjoy one of the sweetest road descents of my life. The road undulates down hill, mellow enough that we don’t have to brake around the corners, but steep enough that we can coast at a good clip.

We pass typical Vermont scenery: a white Victorian house with a big red barn and a grain silo, fields of corn, a huge swath of mowed lawn, cicadas and crickets chirping. Near the driveway, a lone apple tree stands above it’s rotting fruit.

We continue to coast downhill. I pass Carrie some peanut M&Ms. We take sips from our
bottles. We’re moving and chilling. Life is grand.

Before we reach East Corinth we make a sharp turn to head to the Thompson Hill Campground. One last climb in the sun and then we roll under a large pavilion. The camp store is closed for an hour, so we can’t check in. The small swimming pool next to the store looks so inviting I can’t resist. Forget lunch! I just want to take a dip!

When the campground host opens the store, she serves us the largest ice cream cone I’ve ever eaten. It’s easily a pint of ice cream stuffed into a waffle cone. Now that’s how you finish off a day of bicycle touring!