Though much of the country is enjoying crispy fall weather, the mountains and hills of the northeast have already been carpeted with the first snowfalls, and much of the bright foliage has already fallen to the forest floor.
A family farm on a hillside in northern Vermont at the start of winter is like an empty table, ready to be set for a meal. These and other folksy aphorisms, brought to you by a digital eye on a flying robot stabilized by orbiting artificial satellites and electronic gyroscopes. The future is excellent!
The ferry across Lake Champlain is brief—no need for cabins when a few benches will do. The calm of mid-century American design makes the place feel like every other ferry you’ve ever been on.
Cars and bikes waited on the deck below. I rather like the notice about stopping motors and setting brakes above two vehicles for which that isn’t likely to be an issue.
Our recent trip across Lake Champlain to Burlington, Vermont with the Mini (you can see it hiding in the bottom-right corner) included time on the ferry behind these four motorcyclists from Quebec. That medley of Ducati, Honda, KTM, and Harley-Davison, set against the backdrop of far-off sailboats and mountains, makes for a strong “adventure trip” vibe.
We visited the Vermont Summer Festival this weekend and watched the Grand Prix with its 1.45 meter jumps. The physicality of horse jumping five feet into the air never gets old, but my favorite part has to be the facial expressions and the activities of the riders who muscle these equine missiles around the course.
Out in rural Vermont, down the road from where I took this photo, is the farm of Vermont Ponies. Though they have a bit of barn space, the majority of the farm is paddocks on grassy hillsides like the one you see here. When a storm is brewing (as it was on this muggy June afternoon) or snow is fall (as it definitely wasn’t), the ponies have run-in sheds like the one on the left side of the picture, where they can find some shelter from the weather. (And of course, some food, too.)
The empty, remote bits of Vermont have a strangely sinister feeling as the first rumbles of thunder pass overhead and the sky turns that almost-yellow color. The whole world is empty, with not a trace of humans but for a gravel road and the lonely power lines. In a way, it’s astonishing that power is supplied to so much of the country this way.