Autumn in New England

This past week I have been reminiscing about our last weeklong vacation in October 2006. Autumn in New England ranked high on our wish list. Our timing was not so good. While some trees held onto leaves painted in deep shades of red, gold and orange, many had dropped and were already underfoot. A local resident explained that a few days before our arrival, a severe windstorm had blown through the area. Aside from missing some of the peak autumn colors, the rest of the trip was a success. With the exception of one blustery day on the road from Maine to New Hampshire and Vermont, we were blessed with wonderful autumn weather.

We flew from Denver to New York City where we hopped a small plane to Manchester, New Hampshire, rented a car and drove up the coast. Along the way we stopped in the picturesque city of Portsmouth, then continued on to the town of Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park, where we planned to spend most of our time.

Acadia National Park is home to beautiful, rugged coastlines, the kind synonymous with Maine. We loved exploring the area, touring fishing villages, climbing out onto the granite rocks, and dipping our toes tentatively into the chilly waters along Sand Beach. Within the park is Cadillac Mountain, at 1,530 feet above sea level the tallest mountain on the Atlantic Seaboard. At certain times of the year it is the first place to view sunrise in the United States.

The park has more than 40 miles of carriage roads, built in the early twentieth century for the enjoyment of carriage and horseback riders, hikers, and bicyclists. No motor vehicles are allowed. Roaming through the woods along the carriage roads, we found ourselves alone most of the time. A trail shortcut we discovered took us straight up to the summit of Day Mountain. Although the mountain is less than 600 feet in elevation, the views out to the Cranberry Isles were breathtaking.

Next we packed up and drove across Maine to New Hampshire. We avoided interstates and highways, instead choosing rural, two-lane roads that would take us through small towns where we could see more of New England up close. We lost our way a time or two on the winding roads, some of which did not seem to match the map in my hands. Before long my internal navigation system kicked in and we were on our way.

In New Hampshire we took an exhilarating ride up Mount Washington, the highest peak in the northeast at 6,288 feet. A steep road takes you to the summit. The mountain is covered in clouds more than half the time, including the day we visited. By the time we reached the summit, you could see no more than 100 feet in front of you. The clouds were saturated with water and although it wasn't raining, our hair and clothes were soaked just walking to the summit house. It was about 40 degrees with wind gusts of 45 mph. Needless to say we did not get any photos from the top. Observers on this mountain boast that it is “Home of the World’s Worst Weather,” including the highest wind speed ever recorded: 231 mph.

After spending the night near the state capitol building in Montpelier, Vermont, we drove south through more rural roads, enjoying the quaint little towns and covered bridges. Along the way we stopped in Chelsea, where we found a lovely cemetery situated on a hill above town. We were intrigued by one Civil War grave, that of Captain Orville Bixby of the Second Vermont Volunteer Infantry. He fought in many battles including Bull Run, Williamsburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, and was killed at age 29 in the Battle of the Wilderness.

Those rural roads took us to Woodstock, a quaint and historic colonial town in Vermont. We spent most of our time strolling up and down the streets, taking photos of the buildings and homes that were so lovingly preserved. One business owner in town even displayed a colonial flag with thirteen stars at the front entrance.

After Woodstock, we jumped on the interstate and zoomed into Massachusetts for the final leg of the trip. One goal we both have is to set foot in each of the 50 states during our lifetime. I had been to Massachusetts; Dave had not. We crossed the Connecticut River at the French King Bridge and returned to Manchester. Our flight home followed the same route in reverse, so again we were able to savor the sight of New York City from the air.

In two weeks we are venturing to the East Coast again, this time to our nation’s capital then on to southwestern Virginia and Appalachia. This next vacation has been a long time coming and I can’t wait!

Autumn in New England from Deborah French on Vimeo.