Travels with Gary #8 - Home Again

My cup was full. It wouldn't hold one more quaint town, steeple topped church, or charming cottage. Newfane, Vermont and Deerfield, Massachusetts were wasted on me. I was completely satisfied with our journey, but overwhelmed and ready to go home.

My mood was not improved when Gary joked about a possible strip search at the airport because the hotel clerk who tried to print out our boarding passes, checked "Yes" by mistake when asked if we were carrying knives. I convinced him to allow a little extra time just in case we had problems with the airline attendant or the TSA.

The fastest route into Boston appeared to be Interstate 90 which turned out to be the Mass Pike (Massachusetts Turnpike). Trains of cars and trucks whizzed past us going 85 mph in a 65 mph zone. The road surface was in poor condition and the narrow lanes were cramped. When we stopped at the last service plaza before Boston to get gas and use the restrooms, we were met with a line of pumps that could accommodate at least 20 cars at a time. The fast food and mega convenience store inside was crammed with every kind of tourist kitsch imaginable. Our white knuckle drive through the multi billion dollar tunnel under Boston required sharp eyes and quick reflexes to exit at the appropriate spot. What a striking contrast to our leisurely drive through some of the most peaceful and beautiful landscapes in America.

As it turned out, there were no problems at the airport and our flight home was uneventful. Over the past few days we have had to adjust our internal clocks to Pacific time. One morning we were both up by 3 AM.

Our trip to New England was perfect in every way. Yes, it is just as charming and beautiful as it appears in the photographs and I hope everyone has an opportunity to experience the loveliness some time in their life.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting.  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Travels with Gary #7 - Zig Zaging Through Vermont

We left our hotel in the "Northern Kingdom" of Vermont before the sun came up. A dense fog lying in the valleys and the below freezing temperature frosted the car and the fields with ice crystals. 10 miles west of St. Johnsbury we turned south off of Hwy 2 onto a country road that climbed up into the hills where we witnessed a glorious sunrise.

Cows, horses, small fields of berries, and a few tiny settlements with interesting names such as Peacham, appeared now and then along the almost completely deserted tree-lined road. It was as though we were driving through a Robert Frost poem such as Mending Wall or The Road Not Taken.

The peaceful country road led us to Hwy 302 where we turned west toward Barre, known for granite quarries and Montpelier, the capital. Every town we saw on our New England journey no matter how small had at least one church and one cemetery. In Barre five churches faced the town square and the cemetery was filled with elaborate granite monuments, mostly carved by Italian and Scottish immigrants.

Not too much further west we arrived in Montpelier, the smallest state capital in the United States. The gold domed Vermont State House, dating to 1859, sits comfortably back from the street in front of a tree-covered hillside. The primary material used in the Greek Revival structure is of course Vermont Granite from Barre.

In the hills north of Montpelier, we visited the Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks where we taste tested different grades of maple syrup as well as an assortment of unusual preserves. Apple Pie in a Jar was one of our favorites.

Back on the road, we joined Interstate 89 which would take us south from Montpelier to a scenic loop highway that runs along one side of the Green Mountain National Forest and right through some prime ski areas. Some of the most intense autumn colors of our trip were in the hills near Plymouth Notch Calvin Coolidge's birth place.

A stop at the Bridgewater Corners General Store produced an unforgettable sandwich - smoked turkey, crisp apple slices, and creamy Vermont cheddar sandwiched between thick slices of homemade whole wheat bread buttered with an herb sauce - I am salivating just thinking about it.

By now we were going east again, toward Woodstock founded in 1761. This village of well-preserved brick and clapboard homes is considered one of the most picturesque in Vermont. It is also one of the busiest tourist spots and on the Sunday we visited, they were hosting an art festival. We found a parking lot where we could leave the car and walked along the crowded sidewalks past lovely homes and interesting shop windows. One vintage clothing store displayed a finely detailed burgundy wool walking suit in the window. A charming church and a covered bridge offered popular photo opportunities. We decided this was a place we could live and began picking a new home from the multitudes of fine residences.

A few miles east of Woodstock, we came to Quechee Gorge referred to as the Grand Canyon of Vermont. Instead of joining the hordes of tourists in the over-full parking lot, we decided to continue on to White River Junction where we crossed the Connecticut River into New Hampshire for a short drive south along the water. A return to Vermont via one of the longest covered bridges in New England brought us to Windsor where early settlers created their own country and wrote a progressive constitution banning slavery before Vermont became the 14th state in 1791.

Another country road led us to the village of Grafton restored in the 1960s by a foundation set up by a wealthy investment banker. The Windham Foundation, dedicated to preserving the vitality of Vermont's rural communities, operates the Grafton Village Cheese Company and the Old Tavern at Grafton where we planned to stay.

Grafton is a picture perfect Vermont village and the Old Tavern is a picture perfect inn. It felt like we were on a romantic holiday when we walked into our room furnished with antiques including a four-poster bed. A wooden cutting board holding a small brick of Grafton cheese, Carr's Water Crackers and an apple was left on a side table for our enjoyment. The charming parlor down the hall in our cottage was inviting.

We tasted more than 10 different cheeses at the cheese factory tasting room, walked the lanes looking at houses, and visited the cemetery located on a hill near the white church. I have to admit the unflappable friendliness of the people combined with the perfection of the setting made us concoct a Twilight Zone inspired story about what might happen after midnight. The sudden mysterious disappearance of Gary's sunglasses fueled the tale.

A quiet dinner in the elegant candle lit dining room brought our last day in New England to a perfect end.

Travels with Gary #6 - More Leaf Peeping

It was 42 degrees and clear as we pulled out of North Conway at 6:45 AM - on this Saturday morning of a three day holiday weekend, at the height of the fall foliage, we wanted to get an early start before the crowds descended on the Kancamagus Highway (named for Kancamagus a native Abenaki Indian Chief in the late 1600s). Our reward was a stunning sunrise and an almost empty road.

The Kancamagus Highway Scenic Drive through the White Mountain National Forest is considered one of the most beautiful routes in the whole country. Coming from Oregon with our numerous scenic roads, you might consider us hard to impress, but this drive was one of the most pleasant and spectacular we have ever experienced. While there were grand vistas, it was the intimate views of the Swift River in the early morning light that made the biggest impression. Gary thought the fresh sound of the water bubbling over the rocks was like the voice of God.

Campgrounds, picnic areas, and trailheads were abundant. A hike to Sabbaday Falls followed a brook through a forest turned golden by the sun shining through the yellow leaves. At the top, the falls shoots through a series of three drops that turn at 90 degrees and then funnel the water down a twenty five foot cliff into a deep pool at the bottom.

Back in the parking lot, we were met with the first tour bus of the day.

A busy overlook near 2,860 foot Kancamagus Pass offered excellent views of the landscape. We learned that the evergreens were heavily logged in the 19th century resulting in a more dominant deciduous forest.

As we descended from the pass around hairpin curves, we noticed on west side there were more balsam fir and red spruce sprinkled among the birch.

Just past Lincoln, we turned north onto Interstate 93 heading toward Franconia State Park. The early start continued to pay off when we reached the parking lot of a major attraction in the park called The Flume Gorge. It was easy to find a parking spot close to the entrance and there was no line when we bought tickets at the visitor's center.

The 2 mile Flume Gorge loop trail first took us past the Great Boulder and then up an incline to Table Rock where over time the waters of Flume Brook have worn away the rock creating a wavy surface. Soon after, we arrived at the Flume which is a gorge extending 800 feet in length, 70 to 90 feet in height and 12 to 20 feet in width. A boardwalk allowed us to walk above the rushing water, an experience I will never forget. At the top, Avalanche Falls drops 45 feet into Flume Brook below.

Beyond the falls, the trail continues through a forest with many trees growing out of solid rock. The trees contort themselves into odd shapes to find soft ground and moisture.

The trail passes over the Pemigewasset River on a bridge supported by the centuries old Sentinel Pine. The tree fell in a 1938 hurricane.

When we returned to the visitor's center, the ticket line circled all the way around the large room. In the packed parking lot, two sets of visitors fought over our parking spot when we pulled out. We were happy to be on our way again.

At the little town of Franconia we left the highway again to look for Polly's Pancake Parlor the only business located in Sugar Hill. No luck at Poly's due to a two hour wait. It wasn't a complete loss -  a pretty yellow trimmed church and a tree-lined country road were worth the drive.

We also found a fair example of the hundreds of New England houses we had been seeing since entering Maine. The typical large 2 or 3 story house at the front was usually white with green or black shutters, a long lower building connected the house to a barn at the back, often painted red. This design must have evolved as a way to deal with the cold winters.

Back in Franconia, we found a deli for lunch and returned to Interstate 93 to drive to St. Johnsbury, Vermont. We ended up staying in St. Johnsbury somewhat by accident because it was the only place in the area we could find a room for Saturday night. What a happy accident. Not only was Main Street lined with impressive churches and Victorian houses, one of the most unusual libraries, the St. Johnsbury Athenaeum, is also located there.

St. Johnsbury was home to the Fairbanks family well known for inventing the platform scale (a design you may have noticed at your doctor's office). The successful Fairbanks family, dedicated to philanthropy, started a school, built a natural history museum, and created the Athenaeum in the late 1800s.

The Athenaeum not only houses a library, it also contains an art gallery filled with nineteenth century European and American paintings focusing on landscapes in the Hudson River style. The crowning jewel is "The Domes of the Yosemite" painted in 1867 by Albert Bierstadt. The almost 10 by 15 foot painting, displayed in an elaborate walnut and gold frame, is the centerpiece of the art gallery. Unfortunately, the gallery was closed and except for a few displayed in the library, the paintings were either stored or covered to protect them from repair work on the skylight. We were disappointed, but content with a view of the blue tarp covered Bierstadt through the glass of the double entry doors as well as an informative tour of the library by an enthusiastic docent.

Dinner at Anthony's Diner and a soak in the hotel hot tub brought another exceptional day to an end.

Travels with Gary #5 - New Hampshire Leaf Peeping

We were on the road again before dawn on our way south to Portland with a stop in Freeport to visit L. L. Bean (open 24/7). One Mainer we spoke to called Bean "the Disneyland of Maine" an attraction not to be missed. I would have to agree that the shopping center sized complex we found on Main Street was indeed impressive. Enormous, modern, lodge-like buildings face a central courtyard the size of a city block. Each one holds a different class of merchandise such as hunting & fishing, home, and clothing. Promising to try on just one pair of pants, I put on imaginary blinders as we walked past the indoor trout pond under the central stairs and the mountain trail mock up in the hiking boot department. After trying two pairs of pants, I succumbed to an impulse purchase of a pretty purple sweater. A photo of me proudly holding my Bean bag was a must.

The shopping stop worked up an appetite so we headed into Portland straight to Becky's Diner, a well loved breakfast/lunch spot on the waterfront. We could have fed an army with our plates of blueberry pancakes, bacon, eggs, home fries, and toast. Watching the local people come and go was worth the trip and the hearty food fortified us for the day ahead.

A short distance down the waterfront we found the Old Port, a once-decaying neighborhood that has been restored and is now one of Portland's liveliest areas. We took a walking tour of the narrow streets lined with Victorian-era commercial buildings. The cupola topped US Custom House built in 1861 reminded us of our own Pioneer Courthouse.

We continued our walk further up the hill past the elaborate old city hall, a large park, and a modern glass enclosed library. The setting by the water and the calm pace of this other Portland felt comfortable and inviting, but the promise of a sunny day lured us to the road again for a drive to New Hampshire and the official start of our leaf peeping.

Our Map Quest route out of Portland was surprisingly complicated due to numerous roundabouts that shifted us from one highway to another until we finally landed on Hwy 5 North through farm country to Fryeburg, Maine. The colorful tree-lined road into the small town, located on the New Hampshire border, was backed up more than a mile with traffic headed to a popular local fair. We hoped this traffic jam wasn't a bad omen. Neither one of us thought about the fact that the week we chose for our New England trip included Columbus Day, the height of the Autumn tourist season, until we tried to make hotel reservations. Leaf peeping with thousands of our closest friends.

The jam at Fryeburg was successfully cleared in less time than we expected. The next stop would be North Conway, considered the gateway to the White Mountains, where we planned to stay at the Green Granite Inn (overpriced & mediocre at best). Arriving too early to check in, we continued into the small resort town and found the streets packed with leaf peepers and outlet store shoppers. Thankfully there were more shoppers than peepers and the traffic thinned out on the north side of town.

The afternoon drive on Hwy 302 would take us up to Crawford Notch and the Mount Washington Hotel deep in the White Mountains. This area is known for rapid, severe weather changes - in fact the highest wind ever recorded on earth was 230 mph at Mount Washington in April of 1934. True to it's reputation, the wind was picking up and clouds were rolling over the mountain tops, quickly transforming the pleasant sunny day.

In spite of the weather, the trees and the mountains were magnificent. The first of many "Moose Crossing" signs made us wonder if we might actually see one of the impressive animals. We passed picnic areas and campgrounds near a route first established as a path through the Presidential Range of 4,000+ foot mountains, in 1819. Crawford Notch is a narrow (40 feet wide) steep walled granite pass between Mount Willard and Mount Jackson. On the other side we had our first view of cloud shrouded, 6,288 foot Mount Washington with the grand Mount Washington Hotel sitting alone in the foreground. A sight beyond words!

Following a leisurely self guided tour of the hotel lobby and verandas, it was still early in the afternoon. We returned by the way we came, stopping at the Silver Cascade on our way down.

Just before North Conway, we turned north on Hwy 16 to Jackson were we saw our first covered bridge.

The extreme weather conditions produced an extraordinary rainbow.

Another slog through North Conway traffic and dinner at the 1785 Inn completed another satisfying day.