We had tickets to fly from Salt Lake City to Boston on September 27, 2026, to spend a week in Kennebunk, on the Maine coast. Weather forecasters predicted torrential rains in Boston, from the tail of a hurricane. Dave quickly changed our flight to arrive a day early in Pittsburg, out of the rain! We dashed across Pennsylvania on the freeway and then slowed down to wander through the Adirondacks, in northeastern New York, before spending the night of September 26 on the coast, in Hampton, New Hampshire.
As we drove through the Adirondacks, we passed lake after lake, most almost deserted in the early fall. The leaves were ready to turn, but the summer crowds had already left.
We knew we were in the Eastern United States, rather than the West, as we drove along roads where the huge trees completely intertwined over the road!
We lingered at roadside stands selling fall flowers and vegetables.
The Lakeview Orchards stand was unmanned. There were bits of homegrown produce in a box and a sign telling how much money to leave for each of them. A man dropped by while I was there, proudly adding a few tomatoes to the box. "Just picked!" he informed me. Somehow, he didn't seem like a professional farmer!
We saw the first of the white and pastel clapboard houses that are the norm all over northern New York and New England. They are so different from our homes in the West. One blue clapboard house sits at the end of our street in Salt Lake City, looking completely out of place. We assume it was built by an Easterner, longing for home!
We paused in the resort town of Northville, on Great Sacandaga Lake. We could imagine ourselves staying at the Inn on the Bridge, cruising around the lake on a rented boat during the day and spending our evenings sitting in those white wood chairs talking quietly as it got dark and the fireflies buzzed. Except I don't have the patience for that calming of a vacation...
We drove north to the town of Wells, past huge trees that we could never grow in our water-parched West.
I love picturesque small towns. As I took photos of the church, a man in a flannel shirt stopped by to tell me about the upcoming chicken and biscuit dinner at the church. He told me what a great town Wells is, and about the house he is remodeling, right across the street.
I don't recall ever seeing a sign for a volunteer ambulance!
Villages throughout northern New York post pictures of their local sons in the military. How different from the Viet Nam years when I grew up!
As we drove into New Hampshire, the trees became more brightly colored.
I celebrated my arrival at the New England coast with the first of many lobster dinners!
The restaurant at our hotel had walls covered with maritime mementos--pictures of ships and salty sayings.
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