Fall is my favorite time of year—when a road trip is always in order—seeking the small miracles that live along country roads this time of year.  This maple-fueled adventure is a ritual—an annual migration toward the sort of quiet that exists between one season ending and another beginning. This year’s escape owed much to Nichole Iby—better known online as Nichole the Nomad—whose fall-foliage guide functions like a field manual for the aesthetically inclined. It promised covered bridges, cider, maple syrup, and small towns that appear to have resisted the era of the algorithm. It did not lie.  Load up the dog and leave the car’s windows down just enough for her ears to flap in the breeze and nose to wiggle with the scent, and we’re off. 

Day 1: Arrival in Stowe, Vermont

The moment we crossed into the Green Mountains of Vermont, my Doggo sat up, ears pricked, as if sensing the journey was now getting interesting. By the time we reached Stowe, mid-October had set the slopes on fire. A farmer was stacking pumpkins beside a barn, the kind of tableau that appears too cinematic to be accidental. We stopped anyway, took the photos, and pretended it was spontaneous. Another worker there, a man who looked like he’d never once skipped breakfast, handed Doggo a piece of apple donut without a word (but with a sly smile). In Vermont, we learned hospitality often takes the form of carbohydrates. She didn’t complain.  I went in search of the source of the donuts. 

We checked into the Innsbruck Inn at Stowe, a modest, alpine-style lodge beside the recreation path, one of those places that seems permanently scented with woodsmoke and coffee.  Rooms are lovely and among their other amenities, they’ve just added pickleball courts. 

We walked the recreation path as the sun folded itself into the hills. The river mirrored the maples, cyclists called out greetings, and the whole scene began to feel suspiciously wholesome. Dinner at The Whip Bar & Grill—inside the Green Mountain Inn—offered a similar kind of comfort: Vermont Cheddar Chicken topped with Cabot cheddar and rhubarb chutney, washed down with a Switchback Ale. The waitress, pragmatic and generous with information, insisted on dessert: the “Sac de Bon Bon,” a chocolate bag filled with chocolate mousse and fruit. It was excessive, ridiculous, and absolutely worth it.

Day 2 in Stowe:

Morning started with donuts at the Cold Hollow Cider Mill @coldhollowcidermillvt.  Along with their famous cider donuts, you’ll find a huge store full of cute gifts, local cider, and a cozy café. It’s a lively spot, part country store, part donut shrine. This spot is very popular, so I recommend going early if you can—but not too early—they open at 8:00am daily.  In line, I chat with locals.  One retired Bostonian told me about “leaf-peepers” — those of us who arrive every October for color therapy. He said, smiling, “We love them, but we love November more.” They keep the town alive, he said, but they also slow everything down—literally and metaphorically.”

 The complaint was delivered without bitterness, more like a man reciting an accepted truth of northern life, like snow in April or the Red Sox in September.

The day’s loose itinerary included bridges—Vermont’s unofficial state symbol. Gold Brook Covered Bridge, better known as Emily’s Bridge, has a reputation for hauntings. I found no ghosts, only the soft groan of old timber and the slow echo of water beneath. Built in 1844, it’s the state’s only wooden Howe truss bridge, which feels like a metaphor for something: survival through structure. Nearby, the Red Covered Bridge was exactly what it claimed to be, and perhaps more honest for it.

Onward, to Mount Mansfield via the Gondola SkyRide—Vermont’s highest peak and one of its most visited. Tickets can be bought online or at the base; weather and patience both required.

Dinner that evening was at The Bench (@thebench_vt), where the pizzas are wood-fired and given names with local flair (try a “Moss Glen” with truffle oil + mushrooms or a “Vermonter” with 3 cheeses, apples, bacon, arugula, and a maple syrup drizzle—you’re not going to find these in your local Marios back home). Not up for pizza?  They’ve got some delicious burgers, salmon, ribs, and even a very interesting-looking fire-roasted kitchari, which I will have to come back for.

Day 3: Waterfalls, Brews, and an Austrian Lodge

Morning light came early. I laced up boots while Doggo performed a tail-driven, full body wiggle dance at the door. After some strong coffee, we set off for the trail to Moss Glen Falls—a short drive from Stowe, and found ourselves in a slender gorge, water plunging 35 feet into a moss green pool, leaves framing the rock walls with color. Nichole had suggested it as one of the waterfalls worth visiting, and I fully agree. Doggo pawed at the floating leaves while I considered whether perfection, as a concept, might actually exist. Nichole had included it on her list, and she was right. 

Lunch became beer at Idletyme Brewing Company, where the patio welcomes dogs and strangers alike. The Maple Glazed Brussels Sprouts were as good as anything fried in Vermont can be, and the Idletyme Amber had the caramel depth of a well-told story.  Doggo sat by my legs, occasionally accepting pats from fellow travelers, while keeping an eye on potential play dates quietly peeking out from under other tables.

From here it was time to check out the local shops.  I should point out first, that Stowe is one of America’s most charming European-inspired ski towns.  Back in 1937, an Austrian ski instructor named Sepp Ruschp founded a school on Mount Mansfield, and in doing so, planted the seeds of a cultural hybrid: part New England thrift, part European precision. By the 1950s, the Trapp Family Lodge—owned by Maria and Baron Georg von Trapp of The Sound of Music fame—had become its social center. The current lodge, rebuilt after a 1980 fire, remains family-run, complete with an airy beer hall, coffee house, and herds of photogenic Scottish Highland cattle.

OK, back to shopping, Stowe Mercantile had that old-time general store feel and classic goodies—selling everything from syrup to nostalgia, both in equal measure. Remarkable Things at Stowe Craft Market was filled with handmade items that captured the spirit of the area and will make great gifts this holiday season.

That evening, I traded practicality for casual luxury and checked into the Von Trapp Family Lodge itself. Pet-friendly rooms are limited, but some advance planning can win you a reservation.  Beyond the history and the lovely service here (for humans and dogs), don’t miss a stop in the beer house, a hike to the old stone chapel, maybe a cheese making course, and definitely a peaceful walk through the property to see the fuzzy Scottish Highland cows!  

Dinner in the main dining room was a cozy end to the day: Wiener Schnitzel and an apple strudel my grandmother might have baked. At the next table, a couple suggested I visit Stowe Bee Bakery & Café for morning pastries. “Get the maple bacon scone,” they whispered like it was insider intel. Spoiler: it was.  Apparently, the world was conspiring to ensure this was one heck of a maple-themed trip!

Day 4: Into New Hampshire and the White Mountains

The next morning, I stocked up at Stowe Bee—Then we crossed into New Hampshire with coffee, a maple bacon scone, and bright sunshine. The road curled through small towns and storybook bridges until we reached Lincoln, the self-appointed gateway to Franconia Notch State Park. Nichole had marked it as essential. She was, again, correct.  Located in the heart of the White Mountains, this was a stop cited by Nichole as a must-explore for its hikes and views. 

We found Moderately Priced Pet-Friendly Lodging in Lincoln, NH: Quality Inn & Suites – Lincoln East (from the pet-friendly lists). travelocity+1 . Clean, friendly, and comfortable.

Lunch was at the Gypsy Café, a riot of color and global culinary ambition housed in what appears, from the street, to be someone’s simple, white home. The Zuni Roll—turkey, bacon, and cheese with a berry chipotle sauce—was the culinary equivalent of an eccentric aunt: surprising and comforting.  Doggo napped while I ate and eavesdropped on hikers debating the best time to photograph Echo Lake (apparently sunrise beats sunset).

Later, at Artist Bluff and Bald Mountain, we missed the sunrise Nichole had recommended but caught something better: the humility of arriving late. The light was honeyed, the crowd thin. Doggo rolled in leaves like someone who had found religion. Halfway down, we met Greta, a solo traveler from Seattle with a small terrier and a contagious laugh. “Going alone after forty changes everything,” she said. “It’s just liberating in a way you don’t expect.” I nodded, thinking yes, I completely understood.

Dinner was comfort-food at Black Mtn. Burger Co. I ordered the Brie & Bacon Burger with maple mayo, a house specialty, and a glass of Rhythm Cider brewed right in Lincoln. The cider had crisp apple notes and a dry finish that cut through the richness of the burger. The place buzzed with locals swapping ski stories from last winter in anticipation of this year’s season to begin as they picked at plates of loaded fries.

Day 5: The Kancamagus Highway & North Conway

We rose before dawn, filled a thermos with coffee, and tipped the car down toward the famous Kancamagus Highway.

The Kancamagus Highway—thirty-two miles of foliage theater between Lincoln and North Conway—was apparently designed for people who believe color can be a form of music. We stopped at every overlook: Hancock, Pemigewasset, Sugar Hill. Each one demanded its own kind of reverence or celebration.

North Conway, at the end of the drive, by contrast, has the commerce of a town that knows it’s been discovered.  There’s a bit of a touristy feel here, but there’s plenty of good stuff in the mix to make up for it.  Sea Dog Brewing Company in a big red barn, provided a filling lunch—Brewer’s Cobb Salad, Blue Paw Wheat Ale, water for Doggo. We wandered the shops afterward: filled with maple candy, carved whales, wool socks, and peanut-butter dog biscuits (OK, I did buy some of those). I also found a cozy wool knit hat and wore it immediately.  There are lots of small shops with plenty of hidden treasures to keep you busy for hours here—and most were incredibly dog-friendly.  This also seems to be a hub for mountain bikers.  

In the mid-afternoon we checked into our lodging for the night: a comfortable pet-friendly stay—The White Mountain Hotel & Resort set against Cathedral Ledge (dogs get the “Bed and a Bone Club”).  Doggo was welcomed with treats, and our room had easy access to the grounds where she could stretch her legs. I was welcomed by the roaring fire in the lounge area!  Dinner was at The Viewpoint, the nearby Viewpoint hotel’s rooftop restaurant and bar. I ordered Apple-Cider Glazed Pork Tenderloin with roasted root vegetables—a seasonal special—then watched the sunset turn the mountains pink while walking Doggo down into the twilight woods just behind the hotel. The quiet fall air tasted of pine and wood-smoke, autumn’s first hint that winter is coming.

Day 6: Muffins, Mountains, and Cider Donuts

Morning brought breakfast at Ledges Restaurant, my hotel’s in-house dining room. While I missed their Sunday breakfast buffet, breakfast was hearty, seasonally flavored, and did not disappoint.  Yes, there was maple syrup involved. 

Back on the road brought us to the easy hike to Mount Willard (3 mile round-trip) in nearby Crawford Notch State Park—again, flagged in Nichole’s guide for its spectacular views. From the lookout, you could see ridges glowing in orange and red, valleys pale and blue in shadow.

Our final stop was on Route 302 in Bartlett—the White Mountain Cider Company Market. The smell hits you before the door to their market — fried dough, cinnamon, apples.  Buy a bag of warm cider donuts and a pint of cold cider for the road—and as a reminder of your trip tomorrow morning at breakfast.  If you get a chance–stay for a meal here.  Seasonal and delicious, and served up in their rustic dining room–food here may be the highlight of your trip. Their basil gnocchi melts in your mouth. 

This is a low-stress, high-reward foliage loop: postcard-perfect bridges and towns, 1–3 hour activity windows, dependable comfort food, and lodgings that welcome dogs. Use Nichole the Nomad’s guide to set the order, then leave space for donuts, detours, and the occasional queue at a gondola—small trade-offs for big views.

A few tips:

• Mid-October is prime for color. Follow Nichole’s tactic: start north, drive south to stay with peak foliage.
• If possible, plan two nights per base (Stowe; White Mountains) to keep drives short and days flexible

Dog-friendly notes

• Vermont & New Hampshire are welcoming. Call ahead for pet policies; patios/inns often accommodate dogs (some, enthusiastically).  Most trails are pet-friendly, just keep dogs on a leash, and, of course, clean up after them.