14000 miles, a carriage and two women

In Short

This volume is an anecdotal record of a decade of summer and autumn carriage travels undertaken by two women. Originally composed as informal letters to newspapers, these entries capture the freedom of the road, the hospitality of strangers, and the changing landscapes of New England, New York, and Quebec. It has survived as a rare, personal testimony to a bygone era of travel, offering a window into the simple, deliberate pleasure of moving through the world at the pace of a horse and phaeton.

The Story

The narrative begins as a defiant act against the social norms of the late nineteenth century. Two women, labeled by "Madam Grundy" as imprudent for traveling without male protection, set out in a comfortable, roomy buggy. They possess no rigid itinerary; their only constant is a desire to see places they have never visited and to avoid familiar routes. This lack of planning becomes the book’s governing philosophy. They rely on the serendipity of the road, often asking postmasters or local farmers for advice on where to go next. Their journeys take them through the rolling hills of New Hampshire, the dramatic notches of the White Mountains, the rugged coast of Maine, and even across the border into the French-speaking villages of Canada.

The arc of their travel is a collection of repeated, rhythmic cycles: the departure from home, the slow accumulation of miles, the discovery of a "camping" spot—often a stone wall or a quiet grove—and the eventual return. They document the challenges of the road, including heat, rain, and the occasional mechanical failure of the carriage, alongside the triumphs of reaching mountain summits. They climb Kearsarge, navigate the gorge near Chester, and visit the Shaker community at Canterbury.

As the years pass, the women become seasoned travelers. They grow comfortable with their unconventional lifestyle, carrying a revolver for safety and a sketchbook to record their impressions. Their experiences are punctuated by encounters with a wide array of characters—from the helpful postmaster in Dublin to the blacksmiths and farmers who offer them unexpected hospitality. They find that the world is far kinder than the town gossips suggested.

The journey concludes not with a grand climax, but with the quiet satisfaction of a life well-traveled. By the time they add the final "Postscript" of seven hundred miles, their total distance exceeds 14,000 miles. They reflect on the transformation of their horse, the endurance of their phaeton, and the sense of peace they find in their nomadic routine. Despite the thousands of miles behind them, they view each trip as a singular, refreshing dream, confirming that their choice to wander was, in fact, a deeply sensible and restorative way to live. They return home to Leominster, Massachusetts, time and again, finding their surroundings unchanged even as they themselves have been enriched by the vast, open road.

How It Unfolds

The decision to travel The women announce their intent to ignore the warnings of "Madam Grundy" and embark on a carriage trip. They embrace the freedom of the open road, choosing to leave their home in Leominster behind to explore the unknown.

The rhythm of the road Each day is defined by a loose routine of driving, finding sustenance at local farmhouses, and securing lodging in either private homes or country hotels. They learn to navigate via local hearsay and the occasional map, never worrying about their ultimate destination.

Encounters with the land They traverse iconic landscapes, including the White Mountains, the coast of Maine, and the Canadian countryside. Whether they are reading books during a rainy day in a mountain inn or painting their own boat, they find joy in the stillness of nature.

The homecoming Every journey inevitably circles back to their starting point, where they reconcile their travels with the quiet stability of their domestic life. Each return feels like waking from a long, beautiful dream, only to begin planning for the next adventure.

The People

The two women, referred to by their initials and their shared sense of adventure, are the book’s heart. They are curious, literate, and remarkably adaptable. They want the freedom to observe the world without the constraints of a set destination or the oversight of society. What stands in their way is largely the prejudice of the period—the idea that women are too delicate or vulnerable for the rigors of long-distance travel. They overcome this through calm self-reliance, arming themselves with common sense and a revolver, and by treating every stranger as a potential friend.

Then there is Charlie—and later, Nan—the horses that pull them across the continent. These animals are more than beasts of burden; they are partners in the journey. The women treat them with immense care, ensuring they are groomed and well-fed, and they feel a deep empathy for the animal’s fatigue. Through these journeys, the women evolve from daring, experimental travelers into experienced, confident explorers. They move from a state of seeking permission to a state of absolute, quiet ownership of their own time and movement.

In Its Own Voice

“We were a jolly pair, we two, and ladies at that; and we had decided to go, amid the protestations of the towns-people and the remarks of Madam Grundy that it was not proper.”

The authors reflect on the initial skepticism they faced from their community when they first announced their intention to travel alone.

“The little houses were very like the rough cottages we find by lakes and ponds and at the seashore; we were charmed by the French windows, which open to all the light and air there is.”

While traveling through rural Canada, the women note the distinct architectural and cultural differences they encounter in the villages along the Richelieu River.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the validity of leisure and the importance of self-defined experience. It challenges the Victorian-era obsession with propriety, suggesting that the most rewarding life is one lived in direct, unmediated contact with the environment. The text asks: what does it mean to be "at home" in the world? By turning the road into a home, the authors deconstruct the boundary between the domestic sphere and the wild. It is a meditation on the necessity of "rest and pleasure" as a fundamental human right, and it posits that the best way to understand a country is not through a train window, but at the slow, deliberate speed of a carriage horse.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love the slow-travel movement, nature writing, or the history of women’s independence will find much to admire here. There is a distinct, rhythmic comfort to the prose; reading it feels like a long, steady walk through a quiet forest. You will appreciate the warmth of the authors, who write with a genuine sense of gratitude for the people they meet.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the realities of the text. Because it was written in 1906, the language reflects the period’s specific, sometimes flowery, sensibilities. The narrative is informal and anecdotal, occasionally drifting into the minutiae of travel logistics, such as the search for oats or the purchase of a new pen-holder. It is not a dramatic thriller or a historical epic; it is a gentle, repetitive, and deeply personal log of ten years of life. If you are looking for a high-intensity plot, you may find the pacing slow. But if you are seeking a meditative, honest, and truly unique look at a bygone American landscape—one where travelers were still surprised by the world around them—this book offers a timeless, peaceful companionship.