I moved away from the mountains. For concrete. What, the fuck, Adam?
These thought crosses my mind on occasion. LIke the time I saw a dude crap his pants on the sidewalk. My bike tire was flat, forcing me to push the bike the four miles home. Along the way, I pass this dude laying on the concrete covered in his own shit. That never happened in Vermont.
After 2.5 months in the concrete jungle I had to escape or I’d freak. So I did. I managed to squeeze in a few pictures between 14.5 hours of driving, about 12 hours of sleeping, a few beers, 2 hours of hiking, great burritos with even better friends. All of whom, I may add have moved out of Stowe to the cities: Boston, Burlington, New York and ‘illadelphia. We converged on Taylor to forget the concrete and sit among the trees.
The Taylor Lodge sits along the Nebraska Notch, perched above beaver damns and the Nebraska Valley. This lodge has some history, burning down 3 times over the past 4 or 5 decades. I have an odd connection with this particular lodge. Frank Cain stayed here in 1963. I know because his name Frank Cain etched his name into the wall in 1963(see below). I lived in Frank Cain’s house this past winter. Frank Cain presided over Burlington, VT’s urban renewal projects from 1965-1971. He and I have slept in two of the same places: the Taylor Lodge and 1600 Weeks Hill Rd in Stowe, VT 05672. Enough about Frank Cain, here are the shots.