9-30-2025 Conway, NH

On the last evening before we left Boston, Rob found the nicest little restaurant, D’Parma, tucked away in the tight, stacked neighborhood in Winthrop.  What a little diamond in the rough.  This is Italian on the hoof.  There are about 15 tables and there were maybe 7 people in all who spoke English.  The chefs didn’t speak English, either, and the food and wine were perfectly squisito!  A very nice way to say, “Arrivederci, Boston.”

 

Lindy on the patio

Rob sips a toonie in the sunset
on the patio of the Scenic Inn

We settled in Conway, NH at the lovely Scenic Inn.  On our first night in the little town, we had dinner on the outdoor patio at the Almost There Saloon where our waitress told us about the drive up to Mount Washington.  She advised, “Oh, you don’t want to drive up there.  It is so steep!  It’s like straight up!  People come back down with their cars smoking.  You can drive part way up and then ride the cog train the rest of the way to the top.  But the wind!  Be ready for the cold wind!”  Well!  The hook was set!

 

Yesterday, we drove the road up to the gate where the man collecting money (Yes, bring money.  God’s wonders are not free.) said we were on the wrong side of the mountain to ride the cog train.  That was more than an hour away from where we were.  This road is called the, “Auto Road.”  The man showed Rob how to get the Jeep into Manual 1 gear for the trip back down and told us to stay in that one or our brakes would be smokin.’  And we were off like a prom dress.  Hey, we’re in a Jeep, we can do this!

 

Well!  The drive up the mountain is not for the timid.  Rob did all of the driving.  I’d like to say I was navigator if there is such a thing on a road just slightly wider than the Jeep but what I was really doing was planning my memorial service.  Even Rob showed a modicum of emotion:  Fright.  It was not just narrow with no shoulder dropping off to nowhere but the winds were gusty and blowing the Jeep around.  Vehicles coming down only complicated these issues.  Frankly, we were scared shitless. 

The arrow points out the lower
part of the road up.  Shadow of
Rob hanging on to my britches.
Fingers are mine with a death-grip
on my camera.  Stay back from the ledge!

 

For the record, the highest wind ever recorded since they started recording wind speed occurs on this mountain.  The highest wind ever recorded in the whole world (not kidding) is 231 mph on this exact mountain!  We were hoping not to experience that.  After a harrowing drive, we arrived at the top of the mountain, ostensibly to view the red leaves on the horizon (Isn’t that what this trip is all about?!).  It was cold!  Out with the heavy jackets and cameras!  I couldn’t set up a selfie because the wind would have blown my camera away.  It was a lower wind speed today, 35 mph with 58 mph gusts.  When I disembarked the Jeep, I hung on to anything I could grip.  I wanted to take a picture of the view of the squiggly road we had just driven and Rob grabbed onto my britches to keep me from blowing away.  I had a death grip on my camera.  There is a scientific observatory and visitor’s center at the very tippy top where there is a vending machine for toilet paper and throw-up bags.  There is an underwear store and a brakes and tranny repair shop.  (Just kidding about all that but seriously, folks…)  Bottom line:  It was beautiful and scary.  Chalk up another, “Never again,” road.

The view of the red mountains.  Pictures
don't really do justice.  We're backed up
against a big rock.  "The wind can't blow
us over this one, can it, Rob?"

A drop-off up ahead.  Gulp.

So cold and windy it took my breath away.

A death-grip on the Jeep.

 

Today is September 30^th.  We are at the Burke Mountain Ski Resort in Burke, VT surrounded by… wait for it…. red leaves.  Our wonderful patio looks out on the ski lifts.  In Boston, people were in shorts and flip flops.  Now, it’s blue jeans and flannel shirts.  I brought my down jacket and I wasn’t far off the mark!  Time to wind down, have a toonie, then head down to the restaurant.