It was 21 years ago this month that Leon and I met at the Rock River in Vermont. (Though Leon says he first met me at an organization where I did volunteer work and that he used to see me at the bar occasionally.)
The Rock River is typical Vermont. It is a beautiful woodland spot with cool, or more usually cold, clear water cascading noisily over rocks and boulders. The banks of the river are mostly rock but there are occasional sandy beaches. To get to the mostly gay swimming area, one must make the 30 minute hike in over a well worn, and in places difficult, trail.
When we met it was the end of a typical Vermont summer day and we had sat-out the afternoon thunderstorm. Leon was hiking out and I was at the other beach getting ready to leave. We started talking and hiked out together.
Leon was 26 and I was 40 when we met. Ah, what time and age does...
These don't change quite as much over time.
By the time we reached our cars, conversation naturally turned to getting a bite to eat. (I'm sure there are some who think "This is not natural!") We went into town, Leon tried to get cash from the ATM but the storm had knocked out service. "No problem," I said, "I've got enough for us to both get dinner." We ate together, talked some more, I paid the bill...And as the story goes, I've been feeding him since. And feeding myself as well. It shows.
Frolic in the River-Everyone from Boston Steroid Steve to Green Mountain Radical Fairies.
Guys mostly find the few sandy areas for comfortable lounging, or scatter among the rocks or under shade trees.
There is a lot of camaraderie, though things have changed over the years. There are more cliques and guys are not quite as friendly and easy-going as in times past. We always run into guys we know.
The waterfall across from the beach where we first met.
Happy Anniversary Honey. You too.