Going Native In a Ford Bronco

BY VIRTUE OF THEIR vegetation and geography, the states in the northeast of the US explode in a profusion of colour at the onset of autumn. The region known as New England was named as such because it was the first part of the US to be settled by the colonis­ers who sailed across the Pond from Old Blighty. This is also the reason why this region has a lot more history and archi­tecture that go as far back as the 1700s.

The New England states of Ver­mont, New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, Connecticut and Massachusetts are very popular during Fall as ‘leaf peepers’ descend on the region. This term, for tourists who come to sigh at the splendour of colour, is used with appreciation by business owners who benefit from the influx and with disdain by locals who get a bit miffed by the sheer volume of traffic crowding their little country roads.

The latter is exactly what I wanted to avoid and so I had got hold of a book called Colors of Fall: Road Trip Guide that outlined 25 autumn drives, most of them into regions and on routes well off the established ‘leaf peeping’ circuit.

Then I had reached out to the author, Jerry Monkman, on LinkedIn and he suggested that I get hold of the DeLorme Atlas and Gazetteer for New Hampshire and Vermont and for Maine. It was solid advice because DeLorme is a Garmin brand and the maps are lavishly detailed, defining even the most nondescript tracks. And over the next 10 days we came to realise that it is these thin lines that lead to high adventure, often via splendid scenery.

The first drive we do takes us across the New Hampshire state border on a 125-mile loop through the pretty forests and hills of Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. This area of pristine beauty sandwiched between the Connecticut River and the Green Mountains got its moniker thanks to George D Aiken, former Governor of Vermont and a US senator, who first used the term North­east Kingdom in a 1949 speech. And he wasn’t incorrect because as we head north from St Johnsbury, one of the gate­ways to the ‘kingdom’, we get our first taste of fall. The trees seem splashed with colour because the leaves have already turned. I point out American beech, yel­low birch and sugar maples to my friend who is travelling with me. The mention of the latter reminds her that we have not eaten breakfast and when we arrive at the little town of Lydonville, playing the typical tourist, I pull into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. A well-meaning lad at the wheel of a Ford pickup, pulling out of the parking lot, earnestly waves at me.

“If you’re looking for good local food, go to the diner down the road, it’s really nice,” he says.

We take his advice and the result is a hearty breakfast at the Miss Lyndonville Diner. The place is bustling since it’s a Saturday morning. An old gent gives us some insider tips on where to catch the best views.

So we head to the road up the Burke Mountain. This is the first time we are off the tarmac and my friend is at the wheel of the Ford Bronco that we have for this trip on a road that is twisty and predomi­nantly loose gravel. At one instance, the gearbox kicks down and the turbo kicks in, sending peak horsepower to the rear wheels, right at the apex of a corner. Newton slips through the net of elec­tronic nannies and the Ford flamboyant­ly throws its bum out before falling back in line. As an assurance that this will be her first and only rodeo with the Bronco, she quickly switches to 4WD High.

The old man at the diner was right because the views from the fire tower, a short hike from the parking lot at the base of Burke Mountain, are splendid. Continuing further north the drive brings us to the south end of Lake Wil­loughby that is very popular with the kayaking and canoeing crowd. Watch­ing a couple kayak with their two-year-old, I am thinking what a cold shock it would be to fall into the water when I see a senior citizen wilfully wading in for a swim without a stitch of clothing on.

On that day, we crisscross rivers and streams innumerable times and often these are forded by what is popularly known in the region as ‘Covered Bridges’ and these in themselves have sort of become tourist attractions and hotspots.

It’s hardly a surprise though because these bridges hark back to the 1800s. What I find really fascinating about old bridges is that some of them are such a fantastic fusion of form and function. The latter especially always makes me admire the farsightedness that went into the essential engineering of the struc­ture. Because, just think of it, when these bridges were built they needed to just get pedestrians and pushcarts and pony traps across, a fraction of the tonnage that trundles across them today.

One such bridge that is a prime ex­ample of this is the one across the Upper Ammonoosuc River in the picturesque village of Stark in northern New Hamp­shire. When we arrive here, fall colours are at their peak and little cottages are gearing up for Halloween by way of pumpkin decorations.

Both, the covered bridge along with the white steeple church nearby, are a very photographed attraction and for good reason. The village of Stark harks back to 1774 and was named after Gen­eral John Stark of the Revolutionary War who had famously proclaimed “Live Free or Die” on July 31, 1809. It was part of a toast which in full said: “Live Free or Die; Death Is Not the Worst of Evils.”

These words, “Live Free or Die”, became the state motto of New Hampshire in a 1945 legislation.

WE HAD FLIPPED the rear seats down, opening up more luggage space that swallowed up laptop bags, the large tuck bag, two suitcases and two handbags along with camera bags and a tripod. And last, my tea and coffee kit box. This contains a camping stove, a saucepan and a moka pot among other tea and coffee brewing essentials. So, on this road trip, ever so often, we pull up at some pretty location, usually in a colourful forest or on the banks of a blue lake and brew masala chai or coffee and relish a hot cup with some sweet and savoury snacks from the tuck bag.

Over the next few days we drive vari­ous routes as outlined in the book and they all take us through stunning scen­ery every day. All the drives feature ‘Leg Stretchers’ that are short-to-long treks on the route. Some of these take us on lovely rambles through forests and woods.

When we drive into Maine, there are longer stretches of forests, all now at peak fall colour and the landscape is hydrated with vast lakes—Aziscohos, Upper Richardson and Mooselook­meguntic. There are also little dimples of blue that are tranquil ponds and narrow unsealed roads lead to these.

The first drive that we do in Maine takes us north of the 45th parallel into the biggest forest in the eastern US. Here, there are close to 20 million acres of un­developed land in Maine’s North Woods. That day we explore the Kennebec Val­ley and Moosehead Lake Region where there is no population, no development and no network. While my friend drives, I read the Maine atlas and navigate. Native Americans used the Kennebec River for trade, General Benedict Arnold used it to transport troops for an ill-fated attack on the British forces stationed in Quebec during the early days of the American Revolution and today adven­ture seekers use it for the adrenaline rush that rafting its wild rapids provides.

On that day we also take a brief boat ride to visit Mt Kineo that sits on an island in the northern part of Mooseh­ead Lake. This has been a popular hiking destination for a century-and-a-half with American naturalist Henry David Thoreau visiting twice in the 1850s. It has also been a source of flint for Native Americans since antiquity with stone tools and arrowheads made from Mt Kineo flint being found at several locations in the eastern US and Canada.

Using Greenville at the southern tip of Moosehead Lake as a base we explore another beautiful region of Maine over the next two days. In 2016, President Barack Obama designated about 90,000 acres of the Maine Woods in this area as the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument, so infrastructure is as yet minimal and therein lies the adventure.

One the first day, Patricia, our Airbnb host, tells me to take a road that had been recently cut through the forest and one that Google Maps would not even suggest. “It’s raw and rough but with the Bronco it will be super fun. Oh, and wear orange or bright colours since it’s hunting season,” she quips.

Her suggestion is spot-on because that road is absolutely wild with loose gravel at sections where it is fun to slide the Bronco. The route is also spotted with lakes and ponds with varied names like Moosehead, Indian, Rum, Quakish and Seboeis.

Of course, the colours of fall are a constant source of sighs. And they also bring about a slight sense of helplessness as we take photograph after photograph knowing very well that they cannot do full justice to the magnitude and majesty of this multihued morning. The combination of unsealed surfaces and the area’s unrelenting attractiveness means it takes us a little over three hours to cover 70 miles (113 km).

We stop at a campsite café just before entering the Katahdin Woods to buy some lunch on the go and I still salivate at the memory of the menu board. The sandwiches were so stacked that they needed a jaw that could be unhinged to bite into them.

Since the Katahdin Woods and Waters National Monument is a recent designation, the infrastructure is mini­mal and we often cross over creaking wooden bridges when I hold my breath as some logs squeak and groan under the weight of the Bronco.

At one point we take a road that the Maine atlas indicates is a short-cut. It starts off as a grassy track but soon becomes an overgrown trail with shrub­bery crowding onto it and with ever so faint tracks that I am almost convinced that the last vehicle to traverse it must have been a horse-drawn wagon cen­turies ago. Thankfully, we come upon a clearing where we unwrap and start munching on the aforementioned sand­wiches. I have one ear cocked for any telltale sound from the woods beyond. This is bear country after all and by now the redolence of the pastrami and mol­ten pepper jack slathered with cranberry relish and honey mustard must have wafted deep into the forest. Fortunately, there are no rude interruptions to our impromptu lunch break. But the path from that clearing leads straight into a lake and we have to back track all the way—so much for the short-cut!

Three days later we circle back into Vermont on Columbus Day weekend, and I remember standing outside Christo’s Pizza and Pasta on Main Street in Manchester, Vermont. There are ‘leaf peeping’ tourists milling about and the traffic on Main Street is a steady stream of shiny sedans. Inside Christo’s, my friend has been waiting for our pizza that was ordered 45 minutes ago and outside my Bronco seems out of place like a dusty muscled cross-country stallion slathered with sweat among dandy, shiny-coat carriage horses.

Like me it seems a little forlorn that this lovely road trip has almost reached its conclusion and a parting of ways is round the corner.

Fact File

The colours of fall in New England are most vibrant generally between the end of September and the middle of October. There are websites that track the turning of leaves. The foliage further north and/ or at higher altitudes changes colour first, with leaves in the lower states turning more towards the middle of October.

Boston is a good place to start this road trip.

Since this is really high tourist season, accommodation is expensive, if at all available. So, it is best to book in advance. It is better to stay at 3 or 4 places over two weeks and do day trips. Local knowledge is invaluable for that, so opt for Airbnbs or family-run bed-and-breakfast places.

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