Returning to Haute Goat was like coming home.
I was excited to see those delicious dogs and relieved to be out of the city.
Though, it must be said, the city wasn’t all that bad. It provided me with a second hand ski jacket for 10 Canadian dollars, in which I found SIX AMERICAN DOLLARS. So, it was free.
Smashing.
We’d used public transportation to glide our way across the city.
On the first bus I was aggressively shouted at by this lovely old grandma for having a backpack that was too large for her liking. She told me I was an ass hole and needed to get my head out of my ass (doesn’t make sense), while she sat with her own bag taking up two entire seats.
I smiled intensely at her for the rest of the journey.
Really weirdly relentlessly intensely.
What a cutie pie
We met up with Debbie’s (Haut Goat) husband Shaine and he gave us his car to drive back out of the city to the farm.Teja and Arjia (some dogs) were exceedingly pleased to see us, though Arjia had no idea who we were, Kai almost wet herself and the others weren’t overly bothered.
Conan, Jack, Teja
We settled in and went for a walk with the dogs, then visited the other lads.
Last stop was to say hello to the goats. I spent a good quiet solo 10 minutes stroaking Skye. She loved it.
Me and my pal, Sky
Before long the 6ft 5 German ‘Norbert’ arrived. He’s a Sign interpreter and has decided to take a year or more off to travel and is currently in month 4.He taught himself the piano and specialises in Disney songs. He speaks to animals like their people which I enjoy immensely.
Selfishly, we found it hugely satisfying to have low numbers in the previously well-occupied house.Though cooking was no easier given the dogs always finding the position of least usefulness…
One of my long lists of 2020 goals is a sketch a day. Ive been enjoying this a lot and the quiet and space helps a great deal. Naturally I’m drawing the things I like.
I know I’m a massive nerd.
Snakes has begun 30 portraits in 30 days to keep herself busy.
The routine began as before, and it was a joy to be around these wonderful fluff faces again.
As Christa is still away in Germany, we took part responsibility of her permenantly offended looking dog, Bakiri. I soon grew to adore this dense-necked, overly sensitive bundle of brown.
We soon became good pals and though his face remained offended, he would add a wagging tail to let me know I was OK by him.
Good lad.
Norbert soon developed a surprise allergic reaction to everything. This rendered him sleep derived and sneezing 100% of the time. We narrowed his allergy down to the either the dogs, cat, goats, hay, straw, dust, horses, snow, mud or things. But it definately wasn’t the alpacas as they’re hypoallergenic………
…. I suppose it could have been them though.
We sent Norbert to be the lead alpaca boy to avoid collisions with ‘matter’ but unfortunately his eyes still streemed and his breathing remained laboured.
He left on the 4th day and recovered, back in Toronto by the 5th.
We rode with Fabina and Lucca the Icelandic ponies. Did you know, Icelandic ponies are the only ponies to be found in Iceland? Though in Iceland they call them horses, and get mighty offended if you refer to them as ponies, which is what they are.
Lucca and Fabina
I was told Fabina ‘can be tricky’ and by tricky we mean smart enough to register when she has a total horse loser (me) bouncing about on her back in all the wrong places, and strong enough to totally ignore my firm but clueless instructions.
We took her through a field of soy beans, which is, unbeknownst to me at the time, her favourite treat. Trying to get her to walk, and not eat through a field of elixir was exhausting.
Me looking like I’m having fun
Bakiri, taking offense to Debbie’s last comment
Before long it was -16 and Tiny Tim had to don his swanky jacket, along with Bakiri who struggles with temperatures below 12 degrees C.
Tim rested his unfathomably dense and heavy horse head on my shoulder while I tucked him into it.
Tiny Tim and his dense head
We stocked and reorganised the shop in lue of the grand reopening at the end of January. We made alpaca wool inner soles, felted soaps, moved hay about, clipped the goats toenails, made yoghurt, washed windows, fed old Christmas trees to the goats, de-cobwebbed the barn, cut and wrapped cheese, polished dogs and combed horses.
The departure was certainly the most emotional yet.
Haute Goat is a dream and Christa and Debbie in particular, are hugely inspiring and hilarious women. We’re both super grateful to have spent time at this completely wonderful place.
Snakes, Debbie, Bambi, Christa
On our last day, I’d cut as much cheese as I could and made the rounds of goodbyes. The hardest? Obviously Bakiri who I’m fairly certain was crying.
Bye lads!
The Starcraft arrived late morning and out popped our Toronto chums, after a quick wee and a small tour of the farm we were on our way to Vermont.
We’d managed to wangle our way onto their annual ski trip.
The starcraft was like driving around in a lounge and offered a most enjoyable space for chit chat with the 7 passengers, except poor Mike who, after some dodgey homebrew the night before, was now throwing up in the front seat.
Poor Mike.
We arrived around 8 hours later in beautiful snowy Vermont. It was – 21. The van and we were atop an icy hill in the ‘barfcraft’, our accommodation lay at the bottom. We all elected to disembark the wagon in order to ensure our own safety, while Tom risked life and limb driving it down the hill.
A few moments later, as our nostrils began to close, freezing from the inside, we all jumped back into the vehicle, choosing death by upturned Starcraft over hyperthermia. Smart choice I think.
We arrived at the pre-booked Air bnb the and were so very warmly welcomed by a large group of very lovely mixed genders.
This was the most warm, welcoming, and incredibly well organised venture I’d ever embarked on. I liked all 15 additional humans immediately.
The weekend went off without at hitch, except minor unavoidables, like it being -21 (before windchill) on day one, the Starcraft not being able to leave after a huge dump of snow on the day two, lunch was left at the house on day two, Nick injured both his head and thumb (one injury per day).
Our second hand ski wear held up to the cold, with additional help from the ‘hot pocket’ hand warmers we purchased, the skiing was extremely enjoyable and all of us came away from the experience unscathed.
Except Nicks thumb.
Snakes was extremely spoilt on her birthday with a ridiculous quantity of paper love, piñatas and inexhaustible belts of ‘Happy Birthday’ sung in full, through the day. She loves (hates) being the centre of attention.
After a beautifully meggley start to our lazy Monday, we all packed the wagons and disembarked in all manner of directions. Us, now cutting allegiance with the Starcraft and joining Alex, Jesse and Rose heading in the direction of New York.
Alex, being a super cool IT guy, filled us in on the inner workings of Bitcoin and demonstrated (using words I don’t comprehend) how he made enough money to buy a house in Central London by collecting virtual currrancy. I turned everything into a pokemon analogy to better understand such madness, yet still, my small mind was blown entirely.
While Snakes began to explore how she too could be a cryptocurrancy nerd, I dreamt of building a nest in the woods, and escaping to live there forever.
Half way to New York we pulled into a petrol station where Snakes and I were ejected and handed over to my good pal, Sherpa.
I met Carter 6 years previously on the Pacific Crest Trail. We hiked around 1,000 miles of it together and I gave him his trail name, Sherpa, for his eagerness to pack out treats (beer) for everyone, and his packhorse ability when it came to transpiring the ladies (me) backpacks over fast flowing rivers.
I’d not seen him since, but he had been a huge support to us in our recent CDT hike. Having completed the trail himself two years before, his advice and encouragement were a gigantic aid, before and during our attempt.
We switched vehicles, waved off our pals and dived into Westminster Massachusetts and Sherpa’s home which is previously heard so much about.
Carter (pronounced: Caadaa) lives with his Ma, Martha (pronounced: Maaathaaa) in the house his Pap built.
We were treated to homemade thai curry and chatted the evening away by the fire.
The following day we talked, walked, lunched and left for Newmarket, New Hampshire (pronounced Neu Haaampsha) where the state motto is ‘Live Feee or Die’. And I’m afraid those are your only two options and you must decide.
Here we were met by Moonshadow, Sherpa’s cousin and the gal whom I also hiked 1,000 miles with.
It was a fine reunion.We talk nerdy gear talk and trail memories, new plans and such.
Sherpa departed for home and work the following morning and we carried on breakfasting, lunching, walking and brewerying with Monnshadow, dipping into Maine, just because.
The last two weekd of our trip would be in cities. A strange decision given that we both dislike cities very much.
But, a lot of people I know live in them.
The more time that passes the more comfortable I feel about avoiding cities as much as feasibly possible, forever more.
The next two weeks would be enough urban time to last me until I die, comfortably old, in the countryside, surrounded by goats.
We left Moon, acquired a tuna tin can car from the car place, parted with far too much money and drove it to New Jersey, via Connecticut and New York.
Around 7 hours later we arrived in Cherry Hill New Jersey and the residence of my Uncle, Auntie and Cousin.
The plan was to spend the weekend in Washington DC, visiting all manner of museums which I’ve learned I have a 2 hour per venue maximum time cut off for.
I found DC to be a most melancholic and relaxing spot. The museums are largely all free and within a most enjoyable walking distance from each other.
Donald Trumps house is nothing short of underwhelming though the iconicness of the surroundings are quite spectacular.
My Uncle who acted as tour guide for our Washington weekend is Mr Museum, he has two settings: ‘on’ or ‘off’ and when ‘on’ you can expect to learn everthing you possibly dreamed of knowing and a lot more too. It was most beneficial to have this inner knowledge of the area, allowing us to make the most of our time there.
I went for a nap, exhuated at 3pm on day two while he continued on to a third museum to look at some documents in glass cages in the American archives. He’s got musem stamina like no other.
In recent years Snakes has developed the interests of a 12 year old boy. Dinosaurs, spacecraft and prisons.
After a glorious dinner visit to Shelleys friend’s house in town and another day of information injestation we returned to New Jersey via the Air and Space museum in Virginia.
Another free museum, which exhibits air and spacecraft through time.
Highlights inclide: The Discovery, who’s ass you can see in the picture above, the Enola Gay which was a damn sight bigger than I’d imagined, and the first hot air balloon basket (balloon not displayed) to have made it around the globe.
I spent a while thinking the captions and plaques written to reference the planes, which noted how many bombs they’d ‘delivered’ actually meant delivering them in a postal fashion, not, in fact an explosive one.
Silly me.
If you ever find yourself in Virginia this place is a MUST.
We spent the following day in Philadelphia visiting the East State Penitentiary and enjoying a private after hours tour of the Academy of Natural Sciences (where my uncle ensconses himself day to day with ethanol picked creatures).
After this Snakes and I got drunk in a bar where one can throw axes at things.
What a day.
We left the following day for New York.
We’re both pretty exhausted by concrete and conversation. It’s been a fair few months of new people, new skills, packing, moving and being polite.
I’m quite ready to not do any of those things anymore.
My pal Jake has been living here in New York for 6 years. Or so.
We moved in to his apartment in Northern Manhattan, which may as well be Sauo Paulo.
We spent some time in the city, but now longed pretty hard for routine, structure and control of the cleanliness of our surroundings. We spent some time bindge watching Parks and Recreation wondering what it would feel like to have a job again.
We also visited some things.
New York is an incredibly easily navigated city. There is a fair amount to do for free too, hell just watching the folk who get on and off the Metro is entertainment enough, but that being said its still a city, it still smells and is largely covered in wee.
Before we departed we just had enough time and luck, to squeeze in a sumptuous plate of Thali in Queens with none other than the not so local trail celebrity, Maps.
Seeing her, reminiscing and rounding off, was the very best medicine for our confused, city saturated, trail-missing, emotional States.
With Maps in tow we left for the airport, she tagged along all the way to security, brealthlesslessly and articulately telling stories like she does, so very well.
It was a perfect end.
Home coming is a luxurious treat, and a turmoil which is difficult to articulate.
If I knew what either felt like, I imagine it to have similar as the effects of both a hangover, the menopause or really good drugs.
My brother is no longer here, as he’s not been for some time now. The train didn’t hit when we landed, the one I thought may mow me down immediately. But it’s loud obnoxious horn rang out repeatedly, not continuously, when I’d least and sometimes most expect.
Though it may soften in time, I hope the obnoxiois horn always sounds.
He could be an obnoxious horn at times.
I miss him.
We are blessed with incredible families and friends who have welcomed and cared for us in all the very best ways.
Thank you all, for cheering us along.
—-
Some day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
traling snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.
Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder if your skin shows traces of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.
Do not be surprised by prickly questions from those who barely inhabit their own fleeting lives, who barely taste their own possibility, who barely dream.
If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws, if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl, you will reassure them.
We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else, no point, no meaning, no mystery at all, just this frantic waiting to die.
And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies and granite and bone.
They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.
– Geneen Marie Haugen
SONDER 