In the morning, for some reason I decided to try shaving with Chris' razor. I had never used a razor before. When my whiskers started to grow, my grandfather had given me an electric shaver and that's all I had ever used. I had left it in the car overnight, though; and so decided to give the old-fashioned blade a whirl. It hurt like the dickens; and it was years before I gave it another try. (I have since gotten used to blades, though, and no longer even own an electric. Of course, I also now have a pretty full beard.)

After thanking and saying goodbye to the owners, we returned to Gallup Mills to make a left-hand turn, which would take us over Burke Mountain and to Lyndonville, home of my 2nd-grade teacher. Just past Gallup Mills, however, was the road up to an abandoned radar installation that had been very much in operation in 1960, the height of the Cold War. Now, however, the road was all but choked off by eight years' growth of pine and underbrush.

In Lyndonville, we were able to see my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. McGinnis—who also remembered me! (In fact, she remembered every one of her students, having kept their names in notebooks she stored by year in a cabinet in her apartment.)

Along the way, I switched to an experimental roll of color infrared film. This produces what's known as false color and provides an alternate way of viewing reality, forcing the viewer to view the composition rather than fall into the world of the photo. Here are the shots from the ride from Lyndonville south.

Just for comparison (and to see what modern technology can do), here is an infrared photo I took that day, followed by an AI colorization of the same image.

Revisiting my family home in Vermont was, at the end of the day, the reason for the trip. Seeing other things and hanging out with Chris was nice, but visiting the house, weirdly, had been my ultimate goal. So, now that that was done, we had a return trip to boring Florida that almost seemed like a chore.

But Chris had an aunt and uncle who lived in Darien, Connecticut, which was not out of our way. And so, we crossed the border back into that state.

Connecticut

Chris' relatives were very nice, but I had run out of film, and money. In fact, I wrote them a check for a cash loan, with the promise that it would be good in a couple weeks after I got home where my bank was. (This was long, long before things like ATMs, debit cards, and CashApp.)

But, as we had dinner, Chris' relatives asked what route we planned to take back to Florida. I'm sure I looked as blank as if they'd asked our preferred route to the Moon. So, they recommended we go by way of Luray Caverns in Virginia, which would avoid Washington, DC (after our New York adventure, I had no great desire to drive through another big city, ever again). I'd never been in a cave, but I'd read books about people who had, and Chris and I agreed that would be cool.

So now we had a plan!