There is something absolutely stunning about driving through Vermont in the winter. With all the mountainous landscapes, wrought iron bridges, and homes dotting the valleys, it’s difficult not to stop and explore for a while.
Armed with a bottle of Sortilège and a case of Strongbow cider, I crossed the border at Philipsburg, Québec. After a long stretch of flatland, light flurries started to drift across my windshield. Then the landscape transformed into rolling hills, climbing higher and higher into the clouds.
The snow turned into sleet and then took the form of a raging blizzard. Luckily, this was familiar territory – I ended up leading the way for many cars from the warmer states. We tore down the Interstate and were eventually encased in rocky terrain.
Were these the Appalachian Mountains everyone spoke of?
We wove in and out of gorges, climbed to the peaks, and swiftly came down again, embraced once more by the winter storm. It was going to be one hell of a drive.
Next Stop: Amherst, MA