White River Junction

One of the pleasures of travel by car is the discovery of little known places. On a recent trip, one designed to visit six of the north eastern states, we ventured into Vermont.  Seeing Vermont would allow us to complete our list of states visited.  Vermont would be number fifty! We found ourselves off the beaten path in White River Junction, Vermont.  I'm sure as we drove into the center of the historical district a smile spread over my face. The buildings are reminiscent of the early 1900's.  I half expected to hear a streetcar bell as we found a parking space for the Toyota right on Main Street across from the Amtrak station. A cold rain was beginning to fall as we exited the car. The weather forecast was calling for a winter storm. I remembered what a winter snowstorm was like from having worked in upstate New York. Hopefully it would not hit before we headed back south. We had been fortunate about the weather thus far.

"I'll have to take a closer look at that locomotive before we leave," I said as we walked toward the businesses on Main Street with the old steam locomotive behind us. The old engine was attached to tender and caboose under a shelter next to the Amtrak station.

"That looks like a good restaurant next to that hotel," Claudette said, "The BoHo Cafe it says"

"Works for me. I feel like a soup.  It's a soup of  day," I responded.

We crossed the traffic less street. There was a man walking away from us on the right,the only person on the deserted sidewalk.Without traffic it was  almost eerie under the cloudy sky pregnant with precipitation. The door creaked as we entered the early twentieth century building. To our left was a sofa inhabited by what appeared to be a college student with requisite laptop and an iPhone seemingly attached to her ear.  The lobby of the hotel next door could be seen through the eight foot wide opening in the wall.  The food preparation area was along the left wall and the rear of the restaurant.  The round tables were scattered about and there was railroad memorabilia was on the wall. There were about a dozen customers.  In the far right corner was a fireplace with a roaring fire. Two ladies with coffee cups were having a quiet conversation while the flames bathed their faces

with a warm glow. The menu was written with various colored chalk on a blackboard  near the counter where food was ordered and dispensed.  Sandwiches had names such as Evil Stepsister, Rapunzel and Big Bad Wolf. Our order was taken by a young woman of fresh scrubbed good looks and a pleasant demeanor. We chose the shepherd's pie. (It had a less adventurous name!) Claudette chose Diet Coke for a beverage but I chose water. She handed us our beverages and we soaked up the ambiance while waiting for our food. I was interested in the group of old men that were having an animated discussion. They had a number of books and periodicals spread out on their table amongst the plates and coffee cups.

Across the back of the dining area was a huge painting of people dancing probably twenty feet wide. In front of it were the urns of coffee and water from which to serve yourself. I needed more water. While refilling my water glass I chanced a conversation with the pretty fresh scrubbed employee. The other employee was rather rotund and older and perhaps the mother of the younger.

"Was the painting painted in the 1930's?" I asked. I knew that during the Great Depression the federal government had paid artist to paint murals and such in public buildings.

"No," she said with a smile, "I think it was painted by a local art teacher in the 1950's."

"What was this building used for?"

"Oh, it was a bakery next to the hotel," she said. "The hotel, the Coolidge Hotel, was built in 1879.  It had two hundred rooms and was named for President Coolidge's father."

"Wow!" I said. " Did the thirtieth president every stay there?"

"Yes he did," she said with a smile, "He was superstitious, they say. He would not stay in a room with a number."

"Oh, yeah,"

"He stayed in room 'A'," she said as she moved back to the food preparation area.

I picked up our food on the way back to our table. The aroma from the shepherd's pies filled my nostrils. Wow! I thought I might have to stop and have a bite before getting the food back to a waiting Claudette!

The pie was very good.  Although it was made with beef rather than lamb. I had to refill water glass and was overcome by curiosity. The discussion by the old men around the table  intrigued me. On my way back to my table I lingered by their table staring at the printed material on their table. After a few minutes I realized conversation had stopped and I felt eyes on me. I felt the need to speak and commented, " I wonder if you fellows could tell me something about the engine across the way at the Amtrak station?" I queried noting the books and photographs about railroads.

The man in the cardigan with the reading glasses that separated in the center spoke first. The others continued to peer at a map on the table. "This was a railroad town, the largest railroad junction north of Boston. Five railroads served this town. There was an eight track crossing here in 1863 with fifty passenger trains a day passing through. But the name White River Junction may come from the confluence of the White and Connecticut Rivers." He then looked at the map the others were studying and they began to talk in low tones.

I sensed it was time for me to move along.

"Thank-you, " I said and joined claudette back at our table. After paying our check we went across the way for a closer look at the train.

The cold rain was coming down in a light drizzle reminding me of Edinburgh.

We crossed the railroad tracks and walked to the Amtrak station.  Adjacent to the station is an old steam locomotive.  According to the signage it is was manufactured in Manchester, NH, in 1892.

 Engine number 494 is a 4-4-0* of the Boston and Maine Railroad. Attached to it is a coal tender and a caboose. I climbed aboard the engine with the intent of going inside the cab but it was not to be. Access was denied but I could see all the instruments and controls. I had been inside a modern diesel-

electric and noticed how the old engine had many more instruments and controls. I was surprised to find that the cab of the engine was made of wood like a traction engine, not iron like everything else. I dismounted and walked to the front of the engine and was surprised that the cow catcher, the plow like front of the engine, was made of wood also. Something tells me this was not OEM, Original Equipment Manufacture.

I had taken a number of pictures and Claudette says, "Let's  get a cup of coffee and get to the hotel before the snow comes!"

We walked back across to Maine Street and got a couple of steaming hot decaf mochas at a coffee shop on the corner which did not allow dogs. I know this because there was a perky little pooch of various and sundry ancestry on a leash tied to a lamp post. The coffee shop was a nice place crowded with people doing what people do in such places. Drinking coffee, eating veggie wraps, typing on their laptops and, of course, using their cells. It warm and cozy and the coffee was good plus free wifi.

As we left the little village of White River junction in the town of Hartford I thought of things we had not seen.  Looking at the tourist information brochure I noticed that we had not taken the time to visit the art galleries and a museum.

"Claudette," I said, "You know what we missed seeing in White River Junction?"

"What?" she asked with her eyes glued to the road.

"In the museum there they have Elvis' gallstones." I announced.

She failed to respond to my proclamation and White River Junction faded into the past.

*Under the Whyte notation for the classification of steam locomotives by wheel arrangement, 4-4-0 represents the arrangement of four leading wheels on two axles, usually in a leading bogie, four powered and coupled driving wheels on two axles, and no trailing wheels