New Hampshire: Monadnock

After a month of busy weeks and weekends (for work, family, as well as travel), I find two days to get away to New Hampshire for an old-fashioned, so-obligatory-it’s-sacred New England foliage run. Not counting last year’s trip to Colorado, it’s my first Northeast autumn tour in awhile (sans child, grandparents, or friend), and I use the opportunity to dive into a part of southern New Hampshire I haven’t really visited before: the region of rivers, ponds, hardwood forests, and villages surrounding Mt. Monadnock. By all reports, New England fall colour has been erratic this year, as the region’s woodlands have been under drought conditions since the summer. Indeed, on my drive westward along Route 2 and then north through Winchendon past the MA-NH border, I can see from the highway that the lowland maples are well-past their prime, and even the hardier yellows are transitioning. Everywhere - and especially at the edges of rivers and swamps - there are barren trunks and branches; it’s a telltale sign of stressed trees to see significant leaf drop so relatively early in the October. As I encircle the region’s namesake mountain, it is clear that despite coming ahead of the Indigenous Peoples holiday weekend (later than most years thanks to the calendar) I am still a week or so past peak.

Nevertheless, there are sweeps of colourful forests and pockets of beautiful scenery - especially on leeward hills and slopes, and in sheltered coves and bays. I find that I actually enjoy this quieter, muted presentation of autumn more than the explosive, riotous fiesta that accompanies peak colour. Perhaps it’s because I can slow down, take some deep breaths behind the shutter (and the steering wheel), and sink into my surroundings, whereas peak fall photography has the tinge of a manic episode - nervous exhilaration bordering on breakdown. Instead, I take my time on the route, turning off on a whim to scout winding dirt roads that weren’t on my radar, pulling up beside abandoned homesteads and farmstands, and carefully looking for intimate scenes to photograph in the forest and by the water. Some of my favorite compositions come in these open-ended moments of exploration: strolling through the white pine forest beside Meetinghouse Pond, and cutting through the woods to the abandoned railroad south of Jaffrey, where I am overnighting. The Monadnock region as a whole (and Jaffrey in particular) has a somber, melancholic atmosphere this week, a feeling of being slightly left behind, slightly past its prime, headed inexorably toward darker and colder times. “Dark does not drive out dark, only light can,” reads the window of a shuttered storefront in town. Skipping sunset (non-existent due to incoming storm clouds), I buy a sandwich and drink at the local Subway and head over to the parking lot at Station 16 Ice Cream to enjoy dinner al fresco at a picnic table, under a canopy of string lights - along with a kiddie scoop of Campfire Smores ice cream, which is as good as it sounds. I ask the girl running the stand when they close for the season. “Sometime end of October - depending on the weather. If we get snow!” It is in moments like this, and places like this, that I remember why and just how much I love the fall.

After a lazy, early night at the Benjamin Prescott Inn, I have an equally lazy start to the next morning, as the forecast calls for heavy rain all morning, from here clear to the coast. Over in the dining room (next to the living room where the innkeeper’s kids are watching Bluey), I sit down to an amazing homemade breakfast of blueberry waffles, sausages, fruit, and local maple syrup. The innkeeper keeps calling me Stephen for some reason, but I’m too content and conflict-avoidant to correct him. When the rain clears up mid-day, I head back out for more exploring and poking around - drawing another slow, clockwise circle around Mount Monadnock, this time taking different backroads, finding my way to the side of ponds, swamps, and woodlands that I missed the day before. During a grocery store stop just outside of Petersborough for drinks and a deli counter lunch, I add a pumpkin to my shopping cart - for Jordan. I round out the afternoon by driving up the winding auto road to the summit of Pack Monadnock Mountain, where I join a group of birders performing the park’s annual raptor count. Back in Jaffrey, I spend the golden hour walking along the abandoned railroad beside the Contoocook River. As night falls, the mercury is dropping. After a takeout dinner enjoyed outdoors at Kimball Farms, I return to the inn to end my trip. The pale amber moon follows me on the drive home, hanging large and low on the horizon.

Maine: Portland at Summer's End

The tail end of a bountiful summer here in New England. My parents are in town for a few weeks, a somewhat impulse visit from California - missing their grandson whom they haven’t seen since late April, and putting in some work on the lakeside cabin in Plymouth. We take them on a two-night getaway to coastal Maine for Labor Day weekend - along with, seemingly, most of the region’s summer denizens. For our little train boy, it’s his first ride on the big train (“Amtrak, Amtrak, Amtrak!” he cries out excitedly upon seeing the Downeaster at North Station). He skips his nap, gets increasingly delirious on the two-hour ride north - but it’s all fun and games with Ah-Ma and Ah-Gong sitting across the aisle. We ply him with a cheeseburger; he throws a tantrum after Jane refuses to let him stay indefinitely in the train-car lavatory. Travel with the family, these days, is all about making little memories and being present for the precious moments - in between copious amounts of the no-simpler-than-usual parenting and caregiving. At the Portland Transportation Center, we catch a rideshare to our hotel on the waterfront. Jordan is stoked to set up his hotel Pack-n-Play (旅館! “Lǚ guǎn!” - hotel! he cries in Chinese). In the late afternoon, my mom and dad head out for a little walk and to buy us takeout dinner from Gilbert’s Chowder House on the waterfront. I take a swim in the hotel pool with Jordan; after his bath, we enjoy our lobster rolls, fried seafood, and bowls of chowder in the hotel lobby.

On Sunday, Jordan is up at his usual time, which means we (and one other toddler plus his toddler dad) are the only ones eating breakfast downstairs at 7 AM. Jordan wolfs down three cups of milk and multiple plates of potatoes, scrambled eggs, and sausage patties (no one to accidentally eat his breakfast sausage this time!). Two cruise ships have docked in the harbor this morning, and Jordan gazes down at them from our window, along with the inflatable advertising tube-man (“Balloon man! B’loon man!”) in the parking lot across Fore Street. In the mid-morning, we take a little ride with the grandparents on the narrow gauge railroad by the water, and walk along the waterfront while sharing fruit bars. Before lunch, Jordan takes another dip in the hotel pool with Ah-Ma, trying on his kid goggles and (BaBa’s fault) getting dunked underwater for just a tiny moment. In the afternoon, we board the 4:30 PM ferry to Peaks Island, enjoying airy views of Portland’s skyline (and the distant Portland Head Light, which we visited last June) on the brief ride across Casco Bay. Peaks Island feels like a prototypical New England summer spot: golf carts and bikes are the predominant modes of vehicular transportation; the roadside stands of beach rose have finished flowering, their hips fully red and plump; and a rocking reggae/ska band is blowing up the outdoor restaurant/bar terrace just above the ferry terminal. We (and maybe all of the other recent arriving ferry passengers) line up for root beer floats and scoops at Down Front Ice Cream. I photograph the flowers in front of the nearby inn, while Jordan and mom and grandparents poke around. At 6 PM, we join what turns out to be a packed crowd for the evening ferry back to Portland - not enough room, boo. We hop over to Island Lobster Company to get takeout dinner while awaiting the next departure. It turns out to be a rather eventful, mad rush to board the 7:45 PM boat; I stop to tend to a peri-syncopal woman and we get nearly trampled. Fortunately I manage to reunite with the stroller prince and his retinue, and we all make it safely back to the city.

On Monday morning, we have another early morning breakfast; Jane teaches me the art of using the hotel waffle maker. While packing for our return trip to Boston, she notices she’s missing her wallet, which is usually stored in the backpack with the kid essentials. She has no idea where it is; maybe it fell out sometime during all the runny-nose wipes and sunglasses/sun-hat placing and replacing, or was snatched during the frantic crush of the ferry boarding last night. Jane calls the railroad company, the ferry company, the hotel front desk, the Portland police department. No luck. Four hours later, we arrive back home in Brookline (Jordan once again a sleepy pile after deliriously bouncing his way through the return train ride). The wallet’s on the piano in the living room. She hasn’t had it in three days. She didn’t realize she didn’t have it for three days. I feel like I ought to win some kind of marital achievement award. Jane’s already cancelled all our credit cards. She says I’ll never let her live it down. She’s right.

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For this little weekend trip, I went out with a slightly different photographic vision than my usual, which is quite journalistic in composition and post-processing. I wanted to shoot a little more free-form, partaking more intentionally in street/travel photography rather than my usual fare (landscape comps with family portraits on the side), and accordingly I wanted to process this set in a way that captures the nostalgia of late summer, the season’s ending, the feeling of bidding goodbye to the slow times, the golden afternoons, and the escapades on the water - a feeling that I think we as tourists shared momentarily with everyone else traveling in New England this weekend. In the photos, you’ll notice lifted blacks, de-saturated tones, warm highlights, and even a bit of grain. I hope to build a little more variety - and a little more intention - as I keep experimenting and practicing with different styles of photography.

New Hampshire: Summer on the Lake

Amidst a sweltering hot summer here in New England, Jordan has his annual week-long vacation from daycare, so we decide to bring him up to the Lakes Region of New Hampshire for an extended weekend getaway. For me, it’s an opportunity to introduce Jane and Jordan to the environs of Lake Winnipesaukee, which Lindsey and I explored in the autumn nearly two years ago. We’ve rented out a little two-bedroom condo beside the lake in Weirs Beach, just a couple doors down from the building that Lindsey and I stayed in. There’s some nostalgia here for me - in part because of that 2023 trip, and in part because the dog days of summer always seem to bring some wistfulness for the good ol’ days. A far cry from the grey and quiet but beautiful foliage season that Lindsey and I experienced that October, “Lake Winni” is a madhouse here in mid-July - the little condo village full of families unloading coolers from their minivans, dragging hyperactive toddlers and furry friends up and down the sidewalk between our building and the community pool. The boardwalk at Weirs Beach, all but abandoned and shuttered when we visited two years ago, is a hubbub of kids and their legal guardians running between pizza parlours and ice cream shops and the local Family Fun Center indoor arcade.

We arrive late on Saturday afternoon after a fun two-hour drive up from Boston, me in the backseat with Jordan, playing silly games and chatting about zombies (his latest favorite thing) the whole time. After we grab a few nights’ worth of groceries at the nearby Hannaford in Gilford, I make a last-minute decision to stop by the boardwalk before checking into our condo - even though Jordan is exhausted after having refused to nap at all in the car. Jordan immediately perks up and goes running off into the arcade (chased by Jane), while I hang around and photograph the lakefront. Jane and Jordan wander on down to the boat pier before we make the short drive up the hill to our accommodations. For dinner: rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, mac and cheese, cornbread with butter, and creamed spinach, along with fresh berries and fudge-swirl ice cream. After watching some TV (even though we don’t own a television, whenever we’re on vacation Jordan has genuine knack for locating Bluey on Disney Channel no matter what time of day it is) and taking a bath, Jordan announces “this is fun!” and promptly passes out in his travel crib. We all have an early night.

On Sunday, Jordan’s awake super early (like 5 AM early), probably as a result of having fallen asleep at 7 PM the night before. After a quick breakfast, we drive a few minutes out of Weirs Beach to the Prescott Farm Environmental Education Center, where Lindsey and I took a stroll through the woods during our autumn trip. That time, having initially missed the trailhead into the forest, we stumbled upon the nature center’s child play area, replete with tree forts, slides, and an outdoor kitchen and music set (pots and pans hammered onto a few tree trunks). Jordan falls in love with the place as soon as he realizes where he is: “playground in the forest!” he yells out. “Daddy, come here! Watch me slide!” He’s taken to talking to me largely in English, probably an artifact of his increasing chattiness at daycare, as well as the fact that I’ve admittedly been doing a worse job at maintaining Mandarin conversations with him even though I’m more fluent than Jane. But with some coaxing and encouragement, his Chinese is improving rapidly as well. Jordan runs around the treehouse/bridge structure for awhile before taking an interest in finding large sticks to bang on the nearby music set. All the while, Jane and I chase him with picaridin lotion, spray, and bug-repellent patches. I’m thankful that there’s finally someone in the household who is as delicious to mosquitoes as I am.

Back in the car, we head over to Beans & Greens Farm to play with the farm animals (goats, ducks, and a happy Bernese mountain dog) and have a hearty second breakfast. Jane and I get coffee, cider donuts, and two bagel sandwiches. Jordan devours the majority of my sandwich, having a slight tantrum when Jane unwittingly takes a bite of sausage patty without his permission. He says 太辣辣! (Tài là là = “Too spicy!”), which Jane erroneously interprets as no longer wanting the sausage. Big mistake. This is soon followed by cries of 修理! (xiū lǐ = “Fix it!”). While Jordan’s single functional neuron keeps firing over and over again, Jane patiently tries to explain that she cannot regurgitate and put the patty back together; she’s still learning how to respond to the toddler tantrum. I (having had a little more time around the block with learners of many ages and stages) give him a hug and remove him from all semblance of breakfast until he calms the fuck down.

After breakfast and abundant playtime in the farm’s backyard, we head back to the condo to take a brief rest. Jordan is exhausted after a busy early morning, and winds up taking his first mid-morning nap in over a year. Before noon, we head down to the lake shore for one of the highlights of the weekend: a scenic ride on the Winnipesaukee Railroad, which Lindsey and I saw steaming by with its (mostly geriatric) passengers that fall. The clientele today is not much different, though there are other kids and sightseers mixed in. We buy a bag of kettle corn on the train and enjoy the slow ride along the lake between Weirs Beach and Laconia and back again. Jordan will be talking about the “big red train by the lake” for quite a long time.

After lunch of leftovers (and a mango smoothie), we rest up at the condo for most of the afternoon (at least, I do - Jordan skips his afternoon nap and Jane takes him for a walk around the village). In the early evening, we head back to the Weirs Beach boardwalk for a very special sunset trip on the M/S Mount Washington - a princess-themed dinner cruise. I tell Jane that (given how much I hate cruise ships in general), this will probably be the closest we ever come to taking a Disney cruise as a family. All in all, it’s an enjoyable evening, well worth the $50pp price (Jordan at two years old was free) to gorge ourselves on somewhat shitty chicken tenders, mac-and-cheese, and pink lemonade while enjoying the breeze and the summer scenery. We each wander off onto the upper decks of the boat, Jordan excitedly climbing all the stairs he can find, while I move back and forth looking for nice light as the golden hour approaches. With the aid of my long lens, I get some nice landscape compositions involving beautiful side-lit trees, secluded islands, and distant mountains and shorelines under sunset light. Jordan meets Ariel and we take a photo of them together. He’s never seen the Little Mermaid. We head back uphill to the condo in the evening after filling up on gas.

On Monday morning, we head out early again (after Jordan’s breakfast of bread with cream cheese, peaches, and berries), this time headed north on a clockwise loop around Lake Winnipesaukee, in large part reprising the afternoon drive that Lindsey and I took here two autumns ago. We stop by Moulton Farm just east of Meredith, where unfortunately they only serve hot sandwiches on the weekend; we nevertheless grab a blueberry turnover and cheese-and-crackers to go, which Jordan promptly takes a liking to. We next pause at the south-facing beach in Center Harbor, where Jordan attempts to run onto the pier by himself while refusing to hold our hands (more parenting; a bit of whining and crying). All is well a few minutes later as he plays on the nearby playground set and watches “duck family” swim by at the water’s edge.

Our next stop of the morning is on the eastern shore of the lake, a short climb through the woods to the Abenaki Tower, a scenic fire-tower-looking structure overlooking Moultonborough Bay. Jordan is able the climb the three-story tower all by himself, even telling us “I’m not scary!” [I’m not scared] on the way back down the steep wooden steps. On the less-than-five-minute walk back downhill, I grab some of my favorite woodland photos of Jane and Jordan from this summer - them walking underneath a lush hardwood canopy, Jordan’s tummy poking out as he struts forward confidently - even as I flee back to the car to avoid biting insects.

On our final stop for the morning, we pause by the Nineteen-Mile Bay, where Lindsey and I stopped for portraits against a bank of retreating storm clouds and lovely afternoon autumn light. This morning, it’s still fairly overcast, but the morning sun is glaring and the air is thick with humidity. The only thing that is the same from two years ago is the little triangular sailboat anchored in the bay - oddly enough, it seems to have not moved an inch in the intervening years. I take a cute photo of Jane and Jordan here - Jordan cradding Mama’s chin for some reason - before we complete the loop, cruising through Wolfeboro and Alton Bay on our way back home. I take-out a fried seafood platter and lobster roll from Weathervane on the boardwalk while Jane and Jordan settle in for an afternoon rest. We spend the rest of the day lazing around, heading to the community pool to soak and swim, and watching a rollicking thunderstorm pass by over the lake. All good fun - an enjoyable summer getaway with the little one before the busy season kicks off in earnest.