10-10-2025 Bartlett, NH

There is not a whole lot to do in Bartlett, NH.  Let me rephrase that.  There is nothing to do in Bartlett, NH.  We had a small breakfast in our room at the Villager Motel, worked a bit on the computer and then, drove as far as North Conway in search of an interesting place to have an early dinner.  At last, we drove on back and found Matty B’s Bar and Grill.  It has big windows and lies directly across the street from the Attitash Ski Resort on White Mountain.  “Attitash” is an Indian word of the indigenous Abenaki tribe and it means, “blueberry,” or “huckleberry.”  The locals we talked to say that this area gets its share of snow in the winter.  In fact, Tandy, one of the waitresses at the Fireside Inn in Lebanon, told us that in one snowfall last year, they got 2 feet of snow.  Regularly, we see everyday old pick-up trucks with snowplows attached to the front end.  When you drive one of those, you know you have problems.  In fact, I saw one pick-up with a snowplow attachment and tracks instead of tires.  Not on my bucket list.

Just an amusing
sticker at
Matty B's.

 

Bartlett had an attraction that we found:  The Bartlett Bridge.  It was built in 1851 and was a transport across the Saco River for stagecoaches bearing travelers and mail.  During the Civil War, the bridge served as the quiet, somber walkway for boys who headed for the enlistment centers.  Later, a steel bridge was built nearby and the Bartlett Bridge became nonfunctional in 1939.  A clever entrepreneur woman bought the bridge for $30,000 to save it from turning into firewood.  She created a gift shop in the bridge and it lives on.

Driving on the steel bridge
next to Bartlett Bridge

Bartlett Bridge Gift Shoppe

 

The people here talk funny.  They do not live in New Hampshire.  The live in New Hamp-shah.  You do not go to the door and up the stairs.  You go to the doo-ah and up the stay-ahs.  And you pahk yo-ah cah in the pah-kin lot.  That’s how they too-wahk.

 

The drive to Old Orchard Beach was beautiful.  The yellow, orange, gold and red leaves have not quite called it a season, yet.  The other day, driving from Stowe to Bartlett, it was a 5-hour drive over 110 miles, stopping every few miles to visit, photograph and gasp at the beauty of it all.  Today was no different.  The distance was 75 miles but our drive was about 4 hours with stops and meandering slowly through the beauty of the mountains of the trees.  In the end, Rob said, “I’m all tree’d out.  Let’s go.” 

 

To the ocean we go for 5 days in Old Orchard Beach, ME.  The Edgewater Inn is right on the Atlantic and 20 steps from Joseph’s by the Sea restaurant.  Lindy says, “I think I’m going to love this.  Hey!  Lobster me!”

Spotted these two half-naked
hussies on the beach.
Just kidding.

10-7-2025 Stowe, VT

Looks like the drought is over and the locals are ecstatic!  So are the trees, grass, fields and crops!  It’s a light, steady rain that is predicted to last all night and into tomorrow.  It will, no doubt, wash all the remaining red leaves to the ground but, well, we’ll pay the price if it means the whole northeast won’t burn down.

 

Lucky for us, yesterday was warm and sunny and a gondola ride to the top of Mansfield Mountain at the Stowe Ski Resort was the experience-du-jour.  The mountain is not so high by western standards, 4363’ at the top of the ski runs but as skiers know, it’s not the elevation, it’s the drop!  (Stowe has 7 lifts and 36 black runs.  For perspective, Aspen has 9 lifts and 26 blacks.)  It was a 20-minute gondola ride up and this time, we got a view of all the trees’ red, gold and orange gowns from the top while lazing in Adirondack chairs and enjoying the breeze.

Atop Mansfield Mountain

Riding the gondola

 

We’ve found that in the south, they have, “traces.”  In the west, there are, “reaches.”  Here in the northeast, they have, “notches,” paths or canyons of a sort that cut through the mountains.  Notches can be formed by glaciers, earthquakes or plate shifts and have been occurring since the earth was a ball of fire.  After the gondola experience, we found the road to Smuggler’s Notch.  It’s not really so much a road as it is a one-and-a-half-lane path that meanders among colorful canopies of leaves.  The path or road was used by smugglers during the time of prohibition to traffic booze into the US from Canada.  Before entering this road, there is a kind of squiggly maze you drive through and if your vehicle can navigate this maze, you are good to go.  It’s important to be aware of the tight squiggles, to be sure, but it doubles in importance when you learn that there are boulders the size of Montana that go straight up on either side of the path.  Longer vehicles are not advised.  The road gets stopped up regularly with what the local rescue teams call, “stuckage,” which backs up the otherwise rule-abiding citizens for miles.  It was a really pretty drive but not for the timid.  If you know what it is to wait your turn on a one-lane bridge, this is Smuggler’s Notch (without the bridge).  Beauty all around us but situational awareness is paramount.  Fortunately, we did not encounter a stuckage.

Note the boulders on either side of the road.

Didn't pass the maze test or
the IQ test.  Stuckage.

Stuckage.  IQ of a meat thermometer.

Sign at the entrance to
Smuggler's Notch.

The maze test at the entrance.

Warning signs everywhere
that low IQs ignore.

 

Stowe is the place where the Von Trapp family settled when they immigrated to the USA in 1950.  Over the decades, Captain Georg Von Trapp, Maria and the children developed their land, raised crops and animals and created a lodge, restaurant and bierhall.  No trip to Stowe would be complete without a visit to the Von Trapp family establishments.  Next stop, the bierhall for a Von Trapp Lager and a fresh baked pretzel.  Wunderbar! 

The wine list featuring
a $1,400 bottle of liquid gold.

Von Trapp Family Lodge and Restaurant.

The Von Trapp Bierhall

In the restaurant, the view from
our table:  mums, apple trees
and edelweiss.

In the restaurant.

 

The Gentle Giants Carriage Rides were closing up shop when we arrived.  Jack had been relieved of his harness after a long, hard sweaty day.  That was a little disappointing but we felt sorry for Jack and were fine with not making him work another run.  We headed for our home to wait for dinner time and wienerschnitzel for my beloved at the Von Trapp Family Restaurant.  What a five-star class act this place is!  The grounds are perfectly manicured with flowers and trees just beyond the restaurant windows. Tables are covered with linens, candles and flowers and while dining, guests are serenaded with live, quiet piano music.  The staff is dressed in dirndls (women) and shirt, tie and vest (men).  The meals are served meticulously perfect.  I had my steak tartare fix and Rob was a happy man at last with his wienerschnitzel.  Ein prosit!  Some flavor shots for you below.

One of the oldest covered RR
bridges in the country, built in
1902.  It is the last covered bridge
in existence with a full-length
copula to vent train smoke.

View along the route to Bartlett, NH.

Pictures don't really do justice.

Old quarry rock church in a small town.

The grand Mt. Washington Hotel
built in 1908.  You can stay here in
rooms ranging from
$500-$1,400/night.
To the right, that small white
line going up the mountain is
the cog train that takes folks to
the top of Mt. Washington,
engulfed in clouds.

Jack the whooped carriage horse.

Just a huge pretty house along the route.
(Who cleans it?!)

10-4-2025 Lebanon, NH

I thought I could get away with no t-log from Lebanon, but there are a few stories to tell and I can’t help myself..  The locals say that the drought is responsible for the lack of vibrant colors of the leaves this year.  The temperature here has been 30 degrees warmer than the norm and that complicates the situation even more.  The trees are so thirsty that they have given up now that Summer is over.  They are dropping their leaves and going into hibernation mode early.  It certainly looked that way to us in some areas.  Mile after mile, the trees are barren skeletons.  In other places, the trees are fluffy and colorful.  If they aren’t as incredible as usual, you couldn’t prove it by us. 

 

In addition to the warm temperatures affecting the trees, there’s another problem.  I didn’t pack correctly.  Rob is in shorts and sandals.  I have long-sleeve shirts, warm coats, long pants and warm socks.  I keep hoping for snow!  I even brought mittens!  Even so, the big old rock fireplace in the Fireside Inn had logs burning and it was lofty, cozy and comfortable. 

Lounging by the fire.

The Fireside Inn dining room and bar

 

Fireside Inn patio

One reason I was going to pass on Lebanon is because our first day was an administrative day.  The inn has a laundry facility so yeah, what else?  It was also banking day.  Time to check in and balance the books.  But on day 2, Rob (my travel consultant) found an interesting drive around Mascoma Lake.  Any body of water is a good body of water for us.  Along this route first were Enfield, Lower Shaker Village and then Upper Shaker Village.  Curious.  The United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing was a sect that originated in Britain in the early 1700s.  A group of them immigrated to this soil and the shores of Mascoma Lake in 1761.  Besides their religious beliefs, they practiced racial and sexual equality, communal ownership of property, pacifism and celibacy.  Their doctrine said that marriage and sex were sins (which they are, of course, if you do it right).  The congregation relied upon converts and adopted orphans.  I guess that would explain why the sect died and we found nobody on the soccer field.  Oh, and one other thing.  When they had their religious meetings, if they suddenly became inspired or something, they would get catatonic and fall on the floor and flail and shake around like snakes on a hibachi.

 

There are a few buildings left behind by the Shakers but now mostly it’s big expensive lake front homes.  They like their great big houses, here!  While they are beautiful to look at, I can’t say I envy them.  All those stairs and windows (to clean and climb)?  No.  We did stay at one B & B in Boston and of course, old homes do not have elevators.  Hauling luggage up 2 flights of stairs gets old for the old.

They love their big ol' houses!

 

There was one other strange thing in Enfield.  Every few hundred feet, there is a doll that looks a bit like a scarecrow tied with ribbons or beads to a pole or tree.  Each one is dressed differently.  I thought it might have something to do with the Shakers.  Not so.  It is just a whimsy in the little town created by a local artist to add a bit of individualistic character to the ambience.  Some folks love it.  Some think it is weird and creepy and want the dolls removed.  I’m not sure what’s, “creepy,” about a pretty doll;  some people just have to have something to protest, I guess.  So far, the dolls live on and we fall down on the side of liking them and think they are unusual, cute and flavorful.

 

The drive to our next stop, Stowe, VT, was short, 70 miles on the freeway.  The back roads added 30 miles to the trip.  There has been a 2-year long drought in the northeast and for a while, the hills were covered with parched, thirsty, barren trees that had given up and dropped their leaves.  Eventually, we came upon beautiful red, golden, yellow and orange hills.  It was a deliberately slow drive:  3 ½ hours to drive 100 miles.  Absolutely perfect!

Do the mooses know
this is where they
should cross?

Another little covered bridge.

10-2-2025 East Burke, VT

Some of you sticklers out there are going to demand a data qualifier.  To be clear, the wind speed at the acme of Mt. Washington, 231 mph, is the highest in recorded world history NOT including tornadoes, typhoons and hurricanes.  By the way, as far as the high winds are concerned, the older buildings at the tippy top of Mt. Washington are anchored to planet Earth by huge chains.  The newer buildings are designed and built to withstand 300 mph winds.

 

Like Madison County, there are many covered bridges up here.  The reasoning at the time was that the roof protects the timbers from the rain and snow thus retaining their strength.  The old Albany Bridge was constructed in 1858 and was purposed to cut travel time to the marketplace by hours.  The men who built it were woodworkers and craftsmen using axes, adzes, augers and hammers.  No Craftsman power tools in 1858.  The fasteners are treenails, pronounced trunnels, and resemble sections of dowel, made from wood that swells when moistened to provide a tight, strong fit.  There are 2,592 trunnels holding the Albany Bridge together.

The Albany Bridge, now known as
the White Mountain National
Forest Bridge

Beautiful, sturdy construction!

 

East Burke, population 141, is a tiny rural community of friends and family.  Everybody knows everybody.  This time of year, there are squash, pumpkins, cornstalks, wreaths made of colorful leaves and cones and broomsticks on every porch and walk.  It is made extra pretty by the breeze that swirls the leaves about like so many yellow and red snowflakes.  The mountains ablaze with color are the backdrop.  In town at the little café where breakfast is served, there are pumpkin pies, cinnamon cakes and hot spiced apple cider.  The delicious aroma of Fall is in the air.

The view of the ski lift from
our deck.  They were just 
installing the chairs on the
lift.  Snow is on the way.

For those of you who still ski, 
this is what our lodge looks like
in the Winter.

 

The Entertainment Committee (Rob) contrived a 44-mile loop that we could drive to view the colors.  Lake Willoughby was a way point on the route.  It is the prettiest place.  The water is deep blue and the wind created white caps.  All around it is a sea of colors, yellow, gold, orange, red, maroon and purple, all under a canopy of royal blue sky dotted with white, fluffy clouds.  The water gets to 350 feet deep and as it is a glacier lake the temperature doesn’t tempt me, to be sure, but there were a few polar bears out there in kayaks and the occasional swimmer.  Swim?  That’s funny!  I packed a down coat but seem to have forgotten my swim suit!  We drove the length of the lake, 6 miles, and on the north end we found a long sandy beach.  Not expansive by California standards and you won’t find a palm tree for a thousand miles, of course, but pretty and the locals love it.

South side of Lake Willoughby

Sugar Hill, a lookout along the way

Mother Nature's paintbrush

 

There are pretty little churches
by the hundreds.  The headstones
in the little cemeteries date back
to the early 1800s.

North end of Lake Willoughby

The point was to view the colorful foliage and our cups runneth over.  The mountains, trees and bushes seem to compete with each other to see which one can wear the prettiest, most colorful gown.  We lollygagged along and took over 4 hours to drive 44 miles all the while gasping, “Oh my God!” and “Holy buckets!” and “Look at this!  Look at that!”  Our “Leaf-Peeping” trip is a success in spades.  We hit the jackpot and we have two weeks to go!

"Look at this
pretty yellow dress!"

"Gold is better, just
ask DJT."

"Nope.  Maroon
is best."

"I like gold, too,
but I'm prettier!"

"Are you guys kidding?!
Hold my beer and watch this!"