Capturing the Moment
Sometimes one has to turn left when a light turns green instead of going straight.
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.