Some things look familiar to us here, likely because back in November of the year 2000, on election day for the president of the United States, Caroline and I stayed in the same motel in Rouses Point, New York, the Anchorage Motel. On that trip, we were up before dawn on an overcast morning and drove east across the bridge to Vermont. Without a lot of expensive memory cards at the time, we didn’t take many photos. If you follow the link above, you’ll see how thrifty we were and how quickly we sliced through Vermont and New Hampshire before dipping into Maine. Today, I’m sharing 29 of 37 photos I’d initially considered, and the only reason I pared those images was that I have to write to each of them, and I’m attempting to stay mostly current with blog duties as this length of trip could stack up a lot of work after we get home, if I let it.

From the foot of the bridge between New York and Vermont, we pulled into a very small driveway used by the U.S. Immigration and Border Patrol to grab the best vantage point to nab a photo of Fort Montgomery, a.k.a. Fort Blunder that was accidentally originally built on the Canadian side of the border in 1814 when the border of Canada was on the 45th parallel. When the oversight was discovered, the fort was abandoned. Many years later, through international negotiations, the U.S. secured an agreement with the Canadians to move the border, and construction began anew (the local populace had by now helped themselves to the fort’s building materials, so there wasn’t much left). Today, this inaccessible fort sits on private land. Thanks to Caroline’s friend, Christine, for telling us about this hidden boondoggle in plain view. [The look of it reminded me of Fort Jefferson on the Dry Tortugas, Florida, and Wikipedia tells me that these two forts have a feature in common: both of them are surrounded by moats -Caroline]

Do you remember the smash hit of 1992, Sir Mix-A-Lot’s jammin’ track, I Like Red Barns? Yeah, I didn’t think so; it was the B-side of I Like Big Butts, no joke, but maybe a joke.

Not only is the call of the osprey an interesting sound, but its nest is a mishmash of plastic netting, plastic bailing chord, a black trash bag, some living plants, and a bunch of stuff we’ll never know of as the nest is inaccessible to us humans.

What was available to us, even for breakfast, were two red hots at Gus’ Red Hots in Plattsburgh, New York. This style of hot dog is not available to us in Arizona, or maybe we’ve not looked far and wide enough.

This giant obelisk is a monument standing 135-foot-tall (41 m) across from City Hall in Plattsburgh, New York. It is known as the Macdonough Monument, honoring the victory of American soldiers and sailors in the Battle of Plattsburgh in 1814 during the War of 1812, which took a little longer than the year it was named after.

The first Peru I passed through was in Indiana, and now here we are on the Lake Champlain shoreline, passing through another Peru.

Ausable Chasm might be a great place, but the only way to find out is to show up at 9:00; for that, we’re too early. The $20 isn’t too bad; more than a few national parks cost that or more, but those are known quantities. For someone not from this area of the country, we had no idea what was here, and with little to no internet connectivity out on our road, we couldn’t judge if the wait would have been worth it. And then we saw their clown sign and realized that this is for small children or adult idiots, as who responds to this kind of Knotts Berry Farm kind of signage? Seriously, if this were the type of signage used by Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon, we’d skip those, too.

Seeing legitimate mountains in the distance for the first time since leaving Colorado is a sight for corn-sore eyes. That’s Vermont out across Lake Champlain, as seen from Keeseville.

If only we could travel America by this size of road, we’d be on it. We were hoping to get a glimpse of the Highlands Forge Lake in the Willsboro area, but the forest obscured it. No matter, though, as we loved the tiny road.

There’s a small town on the right, mostly out of view; it is Essex, New York, and if time allowed, we’d still be hanging out there.

Welcome to the oldest schoolhouse in Essex County, New York. It first opened in 1827 and closed in 1905. It is a tiny place with an obstructing cage near the entry door to keep vandals at bay, so taking photos was made impossible with my DSLR, though we got a couple with our phones, but the quality of those is so poor, I’d rather not embarrass myself in sharing them.

Like vandals, we might be pilfering thieves because we couldn’t help but sample the grapes. They were seeded and amazing, and like most all-seeded grapes these days, they are no longer available in grocery stores, at least out west. We only sampled a few, pulling from a couple of clusters instead of being greedy and taking that entire bunch in the photo.

We’ve made it to Fort Ticonderoga in Ticonderoga, New York. The fort played an important role in the French and Indian War from 1754 to 1763 and the American Revolutionary War between 1775 and 1783. This is where America first witnessed the bravery of Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold, who captured the fort from the British in a surprise attack on May 10, 1775. By 1780, Benedict Arnold was discovered to be a spy for the British and ran away with his proverbial tail between his legs. He was court-martialed and sentenced to death but died in England as one of the most infamous traitors in American history.

We timed our arrival quite well, as we only had about 20 minutes to spare before a boat tour on Lake Champlain set sail at 1:00. These extra few minutes allowed us to view the King’s Garden and buy some of those yummy grapes we’d sampled north of here.

And then, it was tour time on the Carillon vessel that took us out for a 1-hour history lesson while plying the waters of what was a major trade route in the 18th century.

Maybe it’s difficult to make out, but at least two dozen turtles are basking in the sun on those branches.

There’s a dearth of photos from this part of our journey because we were on a slow boat listening to Cameron, our authentically attired guide and historian, explain what transpired here back in the days with a primary focus on the Revolutionary War. My photos were of shorelines and water and this old cable-operated ferry that picks up a set of steel cables strung on the bottom of the lake to pull the ferry back and forth between New York and Vermont. This old-fashioned style of ferry is only one of a few still in existence.

After the lake tour, it was time to explore the restored fort. This place was in bad shape in 1820 when the Pell family bought the land to protect what was there and stop people from carting off stones to be used in local homes. Later, a British architect was hired to restore the ruins, and the fort became a museum and tourist attraction in 1909.

The cannons on display originate from locations worldwide, while the only original cannons at the fort can be viewed in the museum. Not many could be used to demonstrate the fortifications as they might have looked about 250 years ago.

The custodians of this historic place have done great work in pulling the pieces together that allow this to be a living history museum, but it appears we’ve arrived after the main tourist season, which is always our intent.

There were still a few craftspeople on hand demonstrating jobs that would have needed performing back then, and they were certainly experts in what they were sharing with us, but this is one of those few times that I wish we could be here on a busy weekend when crowds of people are milling about.

The museum has a great collection of artifacts from the period, including some engraved powderhorns.

And this concludes the two and a half hours we were able to spend at historic Fort Ticonderoga, a place well off the beaten travel path.

As part of our admission to the fort, we were given a coin that would be required to visit the overlook on Mount Defiance. Stupid me, I was reluctant to head up since we still had hours to drive before reaching our cottage in Shaftsbury, Vermont, this evening. Caroline wanted to visit with such insistence that I could do nothing but relent and drive us up the mountain. Damn, good thing I did because the view was drop-dead gorgeous. That is Fort Ticonderoga down there and, on the other side of the lake, stretching into the distance, Vermont.

I want to point out that Captain Andy, who piloted the Carillon, had told us how fortunate we were this day as July had a lot of rain, and during August with high humidity, the view was, more often than not, very hazy. He seemed genuinely amazed that we had such perfect conditions, and being up here on the mountain for these views only confirmed his observations.

Sure, this post could have been fine with only a photo or two, but our view from 853 feet (260 meters) above sea level was so enchantingly perfect that we didn’t want to leave.

But leave we did, and after viewing Vermont on the other side of water for almost the entire day, we finally reached its border. This farm stand sits directly behind the Vermont State Line and is being shown in lieu of a state sign because there wasn’t one.

Trying to save some time in our race to find dinner before all two restaurants in the entire state of Vermont open on Tuesdays and Wednesdays closed at 8:00, there was no time for photos, except this one near Arlington. What the heck, Vermont? Are people not supposed to travel the rural byways of your state? Sure, we could have probably eaten in Dorset, but people were laughing at the hayseeds driving through their enclave in their Kia instead of a Bentley, Benz, or Range Rover. Really, people, suits on the streets of your town at dusk on a Tuesday? You let me know just the kind of squalor Caroline and I have accepted in our meager lives on the economic margin of being nobody. At least Janelle at the Serenity Motel in Shaftsbury, Vermont, was a solid, real person with whom I could share a few laughs. As for our cottage, it was an amazing little place set against the forest.