I didn’t expect the romanticism of the train to be so overpowering. The eight hours to Montpelier flew by and I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off my chest. There is special smell in Fall as the leaves change and the days grow colder and the snap of freezing cracks. Aaron lives in a cabin close to Hardwick, about 15 miles or so from Montpelier, down a dirt road, on the top of a hill with no electricity and running water from a spring. My last night I had a couple of logs in the wood fired stove to keep the little cabin warm. I ran a 5 km trail race with Aaron’s friend Caroline and other runners from town; it was sponsored by the shop she and Aaron work for. The trails in the Winter become cross country skiing tracks. It was hilly and I was nearly beaten by Caroline’s fleet feet. I went mountain biking in nearby Barre at some Granite Quarries, borrowed a Cannondale Prophet from the bike shop. Mostly I felt myself quiet down. The city has been too much lately. I feel like more simplification is needed. I don’t really want to spend my nights in condors or on ledges any more. I need something else. I know. This is basically how it always is. Something else. But it was so quiet up there. And the stars and the moon.