We drove through rural Maine past typical New England clapperboard houses seasonally decorated with pumpkins and some with pumpkin people, basically Guys with pumpkin heads. It is also election season here so most lawns are studded with small boards in support of candidates and issues in national and local elections. Maine seemed more pro Obama than this area where Romney is more popular judging by a rough front lawn and bumper sticker count.
Our first drive through the White Mountains, presumably named for the snow cover in the winter, was through a gloomy sky followed by rain and sadly we have missed the best of the fall foliage this year. It seems it was a bad year because of the weather, the leaves blazed briefly in the first week of October and were then blown off quickly in an unusually wet and windy spell. Still there is some colour, golden brown and some brilliant red sugar maples in low lying and sheltered areas.
Last night we took advantage of a dry spell to walk into the tiny town of Jackson along a river cascading over boulders and at the edge of town a typical local covered bridge, like a red wooden shed over the bridge for protection. During dinner the heavens opened again and a taxi being unlikely in this backwater we slogged a mile back up the hill in the rain with me like a smurf in my cheap blue poncho.
Today was forecast as dry but cold, so of course it was wet and colder than forecast so our first hike was abandoned and we drove on. Luckily it dried up enough for us to do a great walk, fortified by hot chilli and coffee, along a narrow gorge with waterfalls made more impressive by recent rains. In brief sunny intervals the colour on the trees lit up but as it brightened it got colder and some of the mountain viewpoints on the road back were whipped by icy winds. Suddenly Martin screeched to halt and did a U turn as he had spotted a sign for hot spice cider which with some apple crumble was wonderfully warming.
Back in our second floor hotel room relaxing before dinner the earth moved; the room shook with a low rumbling as if a train was passing or a large juggernaut, but actually an earthquake around 4 in strength, centred near where we drove through Maine yesterday, and felt throughout New England, although thankfully causing no damage even to this hundred year old hotel.