Photos not taken

It really might be no big deal to someone else, but it worried me.
(Isn't that the definition of a phobia?)

I had to drive over the mountain last week. See, I told you, you might say no big deal.
But of course my reality is something I cannot seem to shake and I was worried.

The leaves were post peak which still retain the golds, browns and some scattered yellows, even some green. So I brought my camera all charged up and ready for a masterpiece.

Google Earth was helpful for the vertically challenged flatlander in me to visualize the road I would be driving on, the grades, the views. It is those large expansive sky views that get me.

A friend at work reassured me that it was the best route and that she shared my phobia.
What a comfort, to fall back on.

I also wanted to snap a picture proving I had been in Robert Frost's old neighborhood-actually a mountain village Ripton, with scattered people who travelled the less travelled path up the mountain, and never left.

I went Up the windy road: Route 125, up out of the quaint sleepy hamlet of East Middlebury Village.
On the way road men were finishing the road repairs. I nearly got a photo of the river and some color.

My turn to go, always someone on your tail on a scenic journey. I go up, up, all the while seeing the leaves fade out completely. I wanted to stop at the Robert Frost walk but it was all closed off. A Maine-iac was now on my tail.

The Green Mountain forest offers other snapshots but I had to get to my meeting by 1.
Then on out of Ripton as I realized I didn't need the photos to remember my ride up the mountain.

I pulled over abrubtly at the top of the mountain at a rare pull off. Goodbye Maine-iac! He was puzzled but sped off. I was relieved to be able to descend without pressures from others. There was a foggy blanket on the mountain that day. A gift perhaps to help me with my challenge.

On I went past mountain villages, Warren and Waitsfield, looking more vacant than a few years ago.
There were waterfalls I missed-that schedule again.

Well I made it to the meeting on time and in one piece. Such a small thing to someone else can be quite difficult to you. I Grew up where they put curves in the road to keep people awake, not to follow the river up a steep mountain

My camera sat idle on the car seat. There sat my photos not taken.
I have no proof I was there, nothing really happened up there, that day.
But my memories of driving where Robert drove, lived and escaped,
Will not fade soon. In fact,
They have made all the difference in me.

Robert Frost Country

The Middlebury area where I work is really the epicenter of Robert Frost culture when he was most famous.
He did live in many places but this is one you feel he is very connected to as well as the place connected with him and images became trademarks, local lore and a backdrop for the best poetry.
So today the Travelogue goes up the mountain to Ripton. I get vertigo so the 15% grades are a challenge but with enough leaves on the trees and some deep breathing I made the ascent and descent without a hitch.
I really imagined How Robert (did friends call him Rob, Bob?) went up and down the same way. There are few roads on a mountain. This follows the river which I could see can get really wild.
The road crew is paving today, on the impossible 15% grade and I marvelled at the angle.
Someday I will return to Ripton to see his farmhouse. For now, I am satisfied I travelled the less travelled road Robert did, and perhaps I am all the better for it.