It wasn’t the pitter-patter of raindrops on the walls of my tent that woke me, but the incessant whine of Dolly, the black lab puppy who had been sharing my sleeping bag.
I reached for my headlamp and my sandals and fumbled with the zipper of my tent. The rain, combined with the starless night, made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me. I hoped Dolly would do her business quickly so we could make a quick retreat back to the tent before we were thoroughly soaked.
As I stood there with a wet leash in one hand and rain dripping off of every part of me, I wondered again what I was doing here—alone with a puppy in a Vermont forest, standing in the rain at three a.m.
I applied to be a photography intern for Vermont State Parks during the summer of 2016.
I was hoping to up my photography game while exploring more of my home state. When I was accepted and gleefully told my family our plans for summer vacation, they smiled and quickly reminded me of summer camps and work commitments that would keep them from accompanying me on my adventure.
“Fine,” I told them, “Dolly will go with me.” And that was that.
Why Did I Sign Up for This?
I did not grow up in a family that camped, hiked, or spent time outside unless you count frolicking in a suburban pool and schlepping to Little League games.
I have tried to remedy the situation with my own kids, so I’m not a complete stranger to roughing it in the woods. But as of 2016, I had never camped alone—not for a single night, and certainly not for a whole summer.
The plan was to visit 22 of Vermont’s 59 state parks with my camera and my pup — I would camp, hike, paddle, and swim for the whole summer while documenting my experience with photos and blog posts for Vermont State Parks.
My family agreed to meet me as time allowed. It would be a perfect summer of outdoor adventures.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
The first thing I realized was that I didn’t have all the outdoor skills I thought I had.
When you hike and camp with a partner or your family, you tackle jobs based on your personal strengths, while others handle the rest.
Solo campers and hikers don’t have that luxury. My camp-food game was spot on, but I have never been able to tie a good knot. The first night, my tarp collapsed onto my cookstove, and my hammock and clothesline both succumbed to gravity.
I will freely admit that the first week or two was a lesson in perseverance.
My campfires died prematurely, and I failed to wash my dishes after meals. I went to bed way too early because the bugs drove me crazy, woke up to a missing canoe (it had drifted away in the night), and got lost twice while hiking when I definitely should have known better.
Standing in the rain with Dolly at 3 am that night during my second week of camping, I wondered why I had signed up for such a miserable experience.
Finding My Groove
The next morning, I woke to the sun. I was camping on the shore of Green River Reservoir in northern Vermont, and the weather was finally clearing.
I threw my gear into the canoe, loaded Dolly, and headed out for a morning paddle. The water was perfectly placid, the clouds lifting to reveal the possibility of a gorgeous summer day.
Paddling into the rising sun, the loons played hide and seek from my camera, and the beavers headed back to their lodge to sleep away the day.
As I steered the boat past a flotilla of lily pads and came around a bend, I looked up to spot a moose knee-deep in the water near the distant shore. Despite living in Vermont for most of my life, I’ve only seen a handful of these beauties, and I caught my breath at the sight.
I stopped paddling and took aim with my camera. It was a pretty fruitless attempt to capture a moment I will never forget — early morning, alone in a canoe at sunrise, with a moose!
That morning was the turning point of my summer.
Paddling back to camp, I realized that every adventure is only what we make of it, and rain, mud, and minor catastrophes don’t have to ruin an experience. In fact, it’s the struggles we experience that are most deeply ingrained in our memories.
Dolly and I went on to explore 23 Vermont State Parks that summer. We hiked 75+ miles, paddled on 8 Vermont lakes, and took about 3,000 photos (Dolly didn’t have anything to do with that part).
Spending a summer alone in the woods taught me to find comfort in my own company, rely on my own resourcefulness, and tie my own knots.
While I still prefer exploring the outdoors with my family, I will never forget that summer of adventure that belonged only to me and a black lab puppy.
Vermont State Park Highlights
I can’t sign off without sharing a few practical tidbits about my favorite state. If you’re ever in the Green Mountain State, don’t neglect Vermont State Parks, which celebrates its 100th anniversary in 2024!
Here are some of my favorite experiences to date:
Favorite Campsite: Burton Island State Park in St. Albans
Favorite Park for Kids: Little River State Park in Waterbury
Best Hiking: Underhill State Park in Underhill
Best Paddling: Green River Reservoir State Park in Hyde Park
Best Sunset: Mt. Philo State Park in Charlotte
Best Swimming: Alburg Dunes State Park, Alburgh, and Kingsland Bay State Park in Ferrisburgh
Best Park for Dogs: Woodford State Park, Woodford, and Jamaica State Park in Jamaica
Tara Schatz is a freelance writer and the founder and editor-in-chief of Vermont Explored and Back Road Ramblers, an American road trip blog. She is also the co-author of the 3rd edition of AMC’s Best Day Hikes in Vermont, released in May 2023, and the author of 100+ Wonderful Ways to Experience Vermont.
