National Geographic : 1967 Aug
in the vastness of unexplored America, neither knowing that the other was there. For 35 miles north of Whitehall, Lake Champlain seems a sluggish river, with only a thin navigable channel cutting through thick marshes of the narrows. At Crown Point it widens slightly. But not until the lake passes the palisades and Split Rock on the New York side does it really break out of a trough. The broadest reach, at Burlington, measures 10 miles. North of this point, the lake flings two arms wide to embrace the floating farms and villages of Ver mont's island county, Grand Isle. The northern two thirds of shallow Missisquoi Bay, which nowhere exceeds 14 feet in depth, overlaps Canada. Otherwise the lake lies wholly within the United States. Red Straw Hat Signals Sunshine In late afternoon we debarked in Burlington, where the barge pumped off its cargo of oil. The con trail of a B-5 2 from Plattsburgh Air Force Base draped a fringe across a magnificent Champlain sunset. My jeep was at the dock, and I drove the last few miles to my farm in Jericho, a hamlet hidden in the skirts of Vermont's highest mountain, Mansfield. A city dweller with a country place usually has a host of friends who want to visit. But my caretaker, Albert Schillhammer, is a friend who wants to work Hurtling over drifts at Colchester, Vermont, a snowmobile almost flies. Its top speed: about 45 miles an hour.