Money Doesn’t Grow on Trees

This past Sunday, I went on a covered-bridge tour through the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont as part of my twelve-month Story of Covered Bridges project. The original loop included four stops, which is already a lot to do in a single day, but a detour pushed the final count to five.

As I explored and photographed, one thing was crystal clear during my loop in Lyndon: several of its covered bridges need some love, and unfortunately, the town coffers are not limitless.

Lyndon has already been facing many unexpected infrastructure issues that have required time and money to resolve. In particular, in 2024, the town was hit by heavy flooding from unprecedented rainfall, necessitating drastic measures to save one of its bridges.

Because of these recent events, I am reminded of why I am trying to capture the story of each and every covered bridge along with its immediate surroundings. You never know when they will be gone, and if that happens, then only memories and photographs will remain.

Setting the Mood

As usual, my journey started with my 5 a.m. wake-up and my dog reminding me it was time to let her out and feed her before I could start my own adventures. With her fed and her business taken care of, I put her back in the bedroom so she could sleep again.

After nearly three hours of driving, I was at the first stop of the day, Burrington Covered Bridge. Even before getting out of the truck, it was clear this now-bypassed bridge was not in a healthy state.

Despite the state of the bridge, the photo opportunities were already running through my brain as I prepped my gear, and with a bit of luck, it would set a positive mood for the rest of the day.

While I was working my way through the overgrown grass to set up my tripod for my first shot of the bridge, I couldn’t help but notice the purple and pink wildflowers still in bloom there. They were a wonderful contrast to the decaying bridge and worth a bit of my attention later.

Not sure how long I was at the bridge, but my goal was to leave no stone unturned. There were plenty of strange, amused looks from drivers as they went by, but I paid them no mind. I was in my element, and I gave people a friendly smile and wave.

With the first bridge in the bag, I headed off towards bridge number two.

Recognizing a Moment

Back in August of 2024, I had read that the Sanborn Bridge had to be removed to save it from the ongoing flooding. My initial thought at the time was that the bridge had been completely dismantled and moved to another far-off location. As I was sitting at the traffic light, I saw what appeared to be a long structure just behind some trees.

Without a second thought, I went left instead of straight when the light turned green. I pulled into the parking lot, and greeting me was the top half of the Sanborn Bridge, all roughly 118 feet of it. At the far end of the parking lot, all of the remaining lumber was neatly stacked.

As I stood outside of my truck, I realized I was looking at a scene that would most likely never recur for the rest of this project; I was seeing a bridge in an uncommon state. What occurred over the next hour can only be described as a feverish state of manic button pushes, lens swaps, and muttering as I worked the entire area.

There was a moment when I was grabbing a shot of the bridge and a crow flew over just as I hit the shutter release button. It was like the photography gods said, “Hey, we recognize you put in some tough weeks; here is a gift, don’t mess it up.” I was like a kid in a candy shop, camera firing away, feeling justified that the detour was worth it.

After I was done shooting, I stood under a tree, out of the sun, taking in the moment. While standing there, all I kept thinking was that I could skip the remaining bridges and go home. I had recognized the story and took full advantage of it.

However, it was time to move on. How I magically had this place to myself the entire time, I’ll never know.

The Middle

The next couple of bridges, though enjoyable in their own right, were really just quick stops to grab a few photographs to keep up the momentum.

At the Millers Run Covered Bridge parking lot, there was what appeared to be a sheet-metal truck. If you’ve seen Top Gear UK, they had an episode about a custom-built electric truck named Geoff. The version I was seeing here was probably the one the crew should have built.

I quickly moved on to my next location, Chamberlain Covered Bridge. Parking near the bridge was not an option, so I switched to a 28-300mm lens to reduce trips to and from my truck. Generally speaking, the bridge was standard fare for photography. Although the bridge was still serving traffic, many of the decking planks were clearly in need of repair and replacement.

With the Greenbanks Hollow Covered Bridge on the horizon, I hit the road one more time. However, one more stop was needed before driving to Greenbanks Hollow.

Infamous, famous, I am not sure, but there is a water fountain in the shape of a pig, spouting water, lovingly referred to as the “Pukeing Pig.” How does one not stop to take a picture of such a local landmark?

Final Stretch

When I reached the bridge, I was feeling mentally wiped out, but I think the best moment of the day was here at Greenbanks Hollow. As I was setting up my shot in the middle of the dirt road, a couple of bicyclists came up behind me, and I am sure I looked like a gray-haired sasquatch futzing with a camera, but I told them they were welcome to go through and that they weren’t bothering me. (As an aside, I always feel weird making that statement to people. The bridges aren’t mine, and a camera doesn’t give me any authority, but I digress.)

The gentleman smiled and apologized, saying he needed to stop in the middle of the bridge. He explained that every time they bike across the bridge, he always stops to give his wife a kiss before biking on. If this doesn’t occur, he said his world is a mess. My foggy brain caught life, and I started firing away, knowing this moment was special.

As I drove home, I reminded myself that if I hadn’t gone out to photograph this week to move the project forward, I would never have seen the bridge with only its roof left intact, sitting on stone pillars. I would never have been there to witness a couple out for a bike ride sharing that kiss. More importantly, I wouldn’t have seen the lovely Vermont countryside.

This is why bridges need to be saved. It isn’t because they provide a connection to the other side of the road to clear an obstacle: they are gathering points, drawing in people like magnets. England has its castles; here in New England, we have our covered bridges.

Although the modern bridges we build today are better and last longer, they lack the vibe a covered bridge brings.

Like anything, we need a beginning. This past weekend, I made a trek to Western Maine. Before I even started this project, I spent about a month planning my loops and a timeline to complete it within one year. I know, artificial timelines, why do people do this? Heck, I shake my head when some YouTuber says they need to get a month’s worth of work done in 15 minutes because reasons.

First, the planning helps clear my head to focus on my photography. By planning out my routes, I know where I am going from week to week. Without this planning, I’ll spend too much time figuring out where to go. I think New England has over 200 official covered bridges.

By planning my loops, I’ve done the initial planning for where to go; I even research whether the covered bridges are on private land, whether there’s parking nearby, etc. Then, I give myself a time limit because, frankly, every project needs a beginning, middle, and end. I am currently in the early stages, but I know that in a year I’ll need to start a new project. It also helps ensure that my photography doesn’t get stale and that I am always pursuing something new.

Without the level of planning, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the drive as much. With the routes mapped out, I can then focus on some side attractions, what cool things would be worth seeing, and that is what finally happened this week. With a bunch of pre-planning, I am able to take more photos and see more things.

This loop took me to the Sunday River Covered Bridge, then over to the Hemlock Covered Bridge in Fryeburg, Maine, and finally to the Parsonsfield-Porter Covered Bridge. Along the way, I battled 100’s of mosquitoes looking for a fresh meal at the Hemlock Bridge, poor angles at the Sunday River Bridge, and quickly talking shop with a wonderful couple at the Parsonsfield-Porter Bridge, but I am getting ahead of myself.

The Journey

The drive started as usual: on the road by 5:30 AM, for the longest stretch of the day's driving. After a quick stop for fuel at the liquor store right off the highway in Concord, NH, I set off to cover the remaining two-plus hours.

Typically, I refuse to stop for anything before the first bridge, since that’s the best light of the day and, frankly, I prefer to have the bridges to myself that early in the morning. But this drive was a bit different.

About 15 minutes from the first bridge, I saw what I think is an old Dodge pickup with an antique sign in the bed, Mother Nature trying to reclaim it. I pulled over about 100 feet up the road and grabbed a few shots before continuing my journey to the Sunday River Bridge.

When I arrived, I had the place all to myself and got some early shots before the crowd started rolling in, which is key since this is the part where I photograph using a manual-focus tilt-shift lens, and it takes time to properly set up.

Thankfully, I was quick to wrap up and moved on to the next stop of the journey, the famous World Traveler Sign Post in Lynchville, Maine. I pulled over, leaving the truck running, and quickly walked over to grab a few snaps.

Truth be told, I should have stayed a few extra minutes because the photos did not survive the initial culling; one has to be brutal with the process. It was still cool to see the landmark, and it must be quite the tourist attraction. When I walked up to the signpost, there was a visitor log. I had never heard of it, so maybe not that famous?

After navigating down a dirt road named Frog Alley Road, I was at the Hemlock Covered Bridge, quickly realizing parking was a premium, even at this remote location.

As soon as I got out of the truck, I was engulfed by a wall of mosquitoes. Even opening the truck door invited in many “passengers” who would remain with me for the rest of the day. I survived for maybe five minutes outside before getting back in the truck to drive a bit up the road to grab some other photographs. Maine had again reminded me why you always need to be prepared, and frankly, I wasn’t.

Once I left Hemlock, finally safe from the bugs, I made a detour in Fryeburg, Maine, for a short 20-30-minute street-photography walk. My goal was to grab a few interesting shots of the buildings along my walk. Thankfully, I did walk away with a compelling photo of bushes framing a door that hadn’t been used in a very long time.

Once back at my truck, I did a mental reset of my gear and re-organized my thoughts to be ready for the final bridge, Parsonsfield-Porter Covered Bridge, which might have been the most graffiti-covered bridge I’d seen. I took a few pictures, chatting with a couple who were traveling around Maine before beginning my long ride home.

One of my favorite elements of any road trip is driving on old dirt roads. Maybe someday I’ll make dirt roads in New England a project, but for now they are enjoyable with no pressure. Although the shots again didn’t survive the culling, I have them in my archive to reference later when needed.

The last bits of the day included stopping in Sanbornville, New Hampshire, to see an old abandoned Railroad turntable that a park is now built around. And finally, a stop at the McAuliffe-Shepard Discovery Center in Concord to see the replica Mercury rocket that I think might be visible from Route 93 if you look closely.

All in all, a good day that started at 5:30 am and ended at 5 pm. Never be afraid to take a local adventure road trip; I’ll bet there is plenty you haven’t seen.

The Triptych - Sunday River Covered Bridge: Jackie+David

This was a tough week to pick a favorite triptych. I think they all had good merits and told interesting stories. However, when I showed them to my wife, she really enjoyed this shot. Below is one of the panels from my final triptych that you can see on my website. She said she enjoyed how the light was coming through it.

The shot also includes a concrete fawn lawn ornament that someone just randomly left at the bridge. Like, why would that just be something there? Then, amongst the graffiti, there is a piece of wood, not very big and, to tweak a movie quote, “that has no earthly business in a Maine Covered Bridge”. Written on it was “Jackie+David”. I found this rather interesting and had every business get its photo taken.

FIELD JOURNAL

If you want more, please read the full field journal to explore my behind-the-scenes lens notes, discover the bridge’s conflicting history, and view the complete high-resolution triptych on the official site.

My goal every week, since this is now, frankly, my full-time job, is to get out and photograph the New England covered bridges. With a self-imposed one-year limit to shoot all 160 I have on my list, I have to make the absolute most of every single weekend. Even with this past weekend being Father’s Day, I still needed to get out with a camera in hand.

Thankfully, my family is not an early-rising group. I was able to slip out at dawn without causing a fuss, knowing I’d still make it home in plenty of time to enjoy the holiday with them.

The Journey:

Despite living in New Hampshire for nearly 50 years now, I completely forgot to check one key regional element: Bike Week. I was loudly reminded of this fact as I drew closer to my first stop, the Tannery Covered Bridge, and kept passing road signs warning drivers to watch for motorcycles.

I usually take my truck on these scouting trips because I never know where I’ll need to park or what random dirt road I’ll end up down. In the past, I’ve had to park in deep mud patches that made me wonder if the truck would be swallowed whole. But for this trip into the Lakes Region, I decided it felt fitting to cruise around in my SUV instead. It’s a bit better suited to paved roads and would allow me to open the moonroof to enjoy the beautiful morning weather.

Although the photographs I captured felt a bit lackluster when I finally reviewed them at home, it was simply a good day to be out. At all four covered bridges I visited, I had wonderful, brief interactions with people out walking their dogs, or just friendly chats through the open window with drivers waiting for traffic to clear on the single-lane bridges. With all the time we spend reading about the general nonsense in the world today, it is incredibly refreshing to get out and be reminded of how good it feels to just enjoy life.

Eventually, the weather shifted, and rain began to fall while I was photographing the Blair Covered Bridge. It didn’t dampen my mood, though. The rain settled in for the remainder of the trip, forcing the moonroof and windows firmly shut, but that didn’t stop me from blasting a bit of Tom Petty on the drive home. I headed back happy, looking forward to spending a few precious hours with my wife and daughter, time I don’t get as often as I’d like these days.

The Triptych - Squam River Bridge: Happy Saturday

As part of my weekly culling process, I always build a digital triptych (a three-panel image layout) for every bridge I photograph. This exercise forces me to see any compositional issues firsthand and ensures I capture the true spirit of the location.

This week was tough. I didn’t leave the field feeling a strong sense of, “Oh yeah, that’s the definitive shot.” But back at my desk, with a little tweaking of the layout, I settled on the Squam River Covered Bridge. The anchor of the piece is the center panel, which features a memorial cross and a bench inscribed with “Happy Saturday!” If you take the time to research it, you’ll learn about a tragic local event that I won’t dive into here. From a purely photographic standpoint, however, it made for a powerful visual anchor.

Using that emotional center panel as my anchor, I worked to surround it with other components that convey what a peaceful, happy Saturday looks like. On one side, I framed the sandy beach with its raised platform and the lake stretching out into the background. On the other side, I worked hard to capture the local boating dock. I tried getting a few shots of boats passing directly through the bridge framework, but the angles just didn’t cooperate. In the end, I hope I did the location justice and captured the feeling of a quiet weekend morning.

FIELD JOURNAL

If you want more, please read the full field journal to explore my behind-the-scenes lens notes, discover the bridge’s conflicting history, and view the complete high-resolution triptych on the official site.

Like my other trips, this one started with a 5:00 AM wakeup call from my trusty alarm. Knowing this drive would be longer than previous outings, I forced myself out the door and was on the road by 5:20 AM, beating my target departure time by ten minutes.

To keep me company on the drive, I queued up a new audiobook: The Unredeemed Captive by John Demos. I actually learned about this book following my recent journey to the Greenfield Bridge in Massachusetts. I was shocked to discover that someone had written such a detailed account of the infamous 1704 raid and its aftermath.

The Journey

After about two hours and forty minutes of driving, I arrived at my first stop: the Sanderson Covered Bridge. Aside from a few friendly waves from passing locals, I had the entire structure to myself. I’ll admit, standing there with my camera on the tripod, I initially struggled to find the specific story I wanted to tell with my frame.

Next up was the Hammond Covered Bridge, a structure that has clearly seen better days. However, the path leaving the Sanderson bridge took me down a network of dirt roads, which is easily my favorite way to travel. I can never get enough of the remoteness you feel when driving through these parts of northern New England. It felt remote enough that I could safely jump out of the truck a few times to capture the landscape.

The final stop of the day was the Depot Covered Bridge. Much as I did at the Sanderson bridge earlier that morning, I struggled at first to find the narrative arc. But I always try to remind myself in this craft: you never really know what you have until you get back to the studio and start reviewing the files.

The biggest challenge in photography here was getting a decent profile shot of the bridge. While there were signs indicating a walking trail, it was obvious nobody had mowed the path in a very long time. To get the angle, I had no choice but to dive straight into the waist-high grass, fully expecting a few hitchhiking ticks to try and hitch a ride out of the “jungle.”

The Triptych

The image included in this newsletter is one of the individual panels from my final triptych of the Depot bridge, which I titled “10” 6’”. While I was actively shooting, I originally assumed the surrounding fields would serve as the bookends for the three-image series, with the bridge being the main star.

However, my plans shifted when I reviewed a shot featuring two trikes heading into the bridge, a frame I initially worried I had completely missed. By pairing a profile shot from the weeds, looking up, with another shot of the trikes, I photographed a tunnel shot of the road disappearing into the distance. It might not be a groundbreaking concept, but exposing both the dark inner trusses and the bright landscape on the other side of the bridge in a single frame is no easy feat.

If you want more, please read the full field journal to explore my behind-the-scenes lens notes, discover the bridge’s conflicting history, and view the complete high-resolution triptych on the official site.

FIELD JOURNAL

Read the full field journal, explore my behind-the-scenes setup notes, and view the high-resolution triptych on the official site.

Field Journal