Reporter journal: During a crazy week, a dose of quiet on a wild Vermont river

By Brian Mann

Published November 8, 2024 at 3:45 AM CST

Early on a November morning, the sun rises over the Green Mountains, turning the clouds deep red.

Updated November 11, 2024 at 06:43 AM ET

ADDISON, Vt. — Midway through a long crazy week, I was red-lining a little, feeling overwhelmed by deadlines. I knew it was time to slip away for a bit of quiet and peace.

I couldn't go for long. I had a full load of work, another hectic day at my desk. But I've learned it doesn't take much time outdoors to help me be a little more sane and a little bit happier.

Sunrise over Vermont's Green Mountains in early November.

Fortunately, I live near a wild river in Vermont. So I loaded up my canoe and a thermos of coffee and headed out before dawn. Soon, I was on the water, paddling slowly as the sun rose over the Green Mountains, turning the sky from charcoal to deep red.

As I've gotten older, this is my favorite kind of outdoor trip: not a big expedition, just a quick taste of quiet and solitude. I wasn't completely alone. Paddling along the riverbank, a flock of chickadees kept me company. In the distance, I could hear the whistle of a morning train. There's already been snow in the high country, but on this day the wind was warm.

Dead Creek winds through a gorgeous corner of Vermont

I spied an osprey. The beautiful big hunting bird circled over the water. Then came a chevron of geese, honking their way south.

One thing I really love about coming to places like this is it slows me down. Things move at a really different pace.

Dead Creek in Addison, Vermont, is narrow in places, then opens into a chain of lakes bordered by pine forests and cattails. The refuge for birds and wildlife was established in the 1950s.

After beaching the canoe I hiked up into a pine forest to sit a while and drink my morning coffee.

I spent the next half hour daydreaming. No headlines, no texts or emails. The only sounds were blue jays and the wind moving in the big trees. The pines groaned as they swayed.

The wind kept getting stronger, so I decided it was time to pack up and head back. By the time I got back on the water, a fierce windstorm had blown up, scattering maple leaves and kicking up waves that tossed my little boat.

I had to paddle hard to make headway, but even that felt good. The work and the wind and the spray of cold water on my face kept me in that wild place a little longer.

Slipping away from work, deadlines and the fast pace of the world, even for a few hours, can be restorative. NPR correspondent Brian Mann paddling on Dead Creek in Addison, Vermont