The day before finishing their 2,000-mile trek, two AT (Appalachian Trail) hikers told me that their journey's end was "bitter sweet." It seemed like the right description.

I can relate to an AT hiker, sort of. I spent more than two weeks at one time in the wilderness of Washington's North Cascades, and I've hiked more than 400 miles solo through Idaho's Sawtooth, Pioneer, Boulder and White Cloud mountains. I gave my sincerest heart-felt congratulations to the hikers, keeping their quiet enthusiasm with me as I went about my way.

I spent the last five days in Maine looking for fall color to photograph. My own journey started in Baxter State Park, where the AT comes to an end at Mt. Katahdin. Baxter State Park is a 200,000-acre wilderness in Maine's North Woods, the most remote and wild place in the US east of the Mississippi. But it was autumn I searched for, not wilderness. And it was autumn that eluded me. After only a day in the park, leaves browning and fallen to the ground, I headed south to Acadia National Park in coastal Maine, hoping my luck would change.

So for the last three days I've been in Acadia, continuing my search for color. I have much more respect now for the art of photographing fall color. For one thing, the "peak" of fall color can be very difficult to pin down. Many factors influence when the leaves change color and how intense that color is. It seems to me that I am too early, despite the occasional stand of yellow birch and bright red maples. Even more factors come into play when trying to photograph those colors. Of course, I'm not satisfied with any photograph. A snap shot of a red tree will not do. I'm looking for that one shot, or those few shots, that will stop a person in their tracks were they to walk by and glance at the scene. That kind of shot is not easy to find. Take for example the last four days. Each day, except for half of one day, has been sunny. Terrible conditions for rendering the soft, delicate colors of autumn on "film." I've had some successes and some failures. Either way, it's the challenge that's important.

It is with bitter sweet feelings of my own, I start my journey home today. Although not much is expected, I will not give up my search yet. Next I'm planning to drive to the Adirondacks in upstate New York, then south along the Appalachian Mountains to Shenandoah and the Great Smoky Mountains. 

Here are a few images from the last four days:

A large cow moose feeds in Sand Point Pond in Baxter State Park.

Spring Brook, Baxter State Park.

 I took advantage of the blowing wind to create a more abstract portrait of this tree.

A mixture of color in a birch grove in Acadia National Park.

Bass Harbor Lighthouse in Acadia National Park.

Thanks to the mechanics at Toad's Kin repair shop (Brad and Bob) my car, and I, were only out of commission for about 8 hours. The timing belt, three major seals, and a bearing were all replaced. Five hundred fifty dollars later, including a tip for timeliness, I was on the road again. Thanks guys!

Since leaving Massachusetts Friday afternoon, more than 500 miles of asphalt have passed under tire. Derry, New Hampshire came next where I visited a friend, Jaime, to grab some dinner and catch  up. The next day brought the Green Mountains of central Vermont. I was on my way to Burlington to meet my step mother, Donna. Now I sit in a hotel in Auburn, Maine (courtesy of Donna) after having traveled back across New Hampshire – this time taking the scenic route – via the Kancamagus Highway. The White Mountains produced some of my best images yet.

Now, after visiting with friends, fixing my car, troubleshooting lost equipment (another story altogether), and "warm-up" photography, I'm ready to immerse myself into the wilds of New England and the glory of autumn. Now I head to Millinocket in north-central Maine, near Baxter State Park, Mt. Katahdin, and the end of the Appalachian Trail. I'll roam around this massive wilderness for a while before deciding what to do next. Back to New Hampshire and Vermont? Perhaps to Acadia National Park in coastal Maine? Who knows!

Below are a few shots from the weekend ...

Random roadside waterfall in Vermont's Green Mountains.

New Hampshire's Kancamagus Highway at sunrise.

Fall's myriad of warm tones – all at once.

The Swift River in New Hampshire.

Driving between the New England states is like driving to the grocery store. It only take a few minutes to feel like you've gone somewhere and actually accomplished something. Only three days of traveling has landed me in Massachusetts, and I already have several images under my belt. But, not all is so well ...

After photographing early morning light in the Cockaponset State Forest, which borders Scott's house in Connecticut, I drove to Northhampton, Mass., to visit another friend, Selena. I met Selena in an Idaho cafe two years ago and we've kept in touch ever since. She's a photographer too, so immediately upon my arrival we headed the Chesterfield Gorge on the east edge of the Birkshire Mountains. A short drive and an even shorter walk through the colorful countryside brought us to a miniature, 2o0-foot-deep granite canyon cut by the Westfield River. A wide trail led down from the canyon rim to the river itself. Selena and I spent the waning afternoon light crawling between tall ferns and exploring the sculpted rocks along the riverbank. So delightful was the dark water and multi-hued forest, that we decided to return the next morning at sunrise.

The morning air was a crisp 35 degrees as we loaded my car with photo equipment and headed out. Fewer photo opportunities presented themselves compared to the previous day, so we left the gorge for nearby Glendale Falls, Massachusetts' tallest waterfall at 150 feet. On the way – trouble. Old cars can sometimes be nothing but. The front main oil seal graduated from a minor drip to a near-steady flow. Not a drop of oil registered on the dipstick. Laying on my belly I scanned the underside of the car to verify the obvious - oil caked, smeared and dripping from one side of the engine to the other. Time to turn around!

My car currently sits at the local mechanic's shop in nearby Florence awaiting a minimum $400 repair job. I just got off the phone with Brad who said the car might be ready by today! What ever it takes. The fall colors are peaking in northern New Hampshire and Maine, and I don't want to miss them!

Cockaponset State Forest, Conn. Scott's backyard borders this old forest. It doesn't get much easier than awaking from a warm bed, grabbing the camera gear, and taking an early morning stroll that starts from the backdoor (except for maybe the waking up at 6 am part). 

The Westfield River cutting a path through Chesterfield Gorge in Massachusetts.

Fern detail on the banks of the Westfield River. Selena and I found a group of ferns about 2 1/2 feet tall. After photographing an overall scene with the river (above), I stooped down and began capturing their view of the world (below).

If you ever drive to New England, I promise, and I can speak from experience (now), that once you get past the Washington DC to New York megalopolis, the stunning countryside of the rural Northeast will reveal itself.

After driving 1173 miles in 24 hours, stopping twice to sleep at rest areas, and surviving a night-time torrential downpour through our nation's capital, I arrived in Haddam, Conn. at 7:30 am to visit my good friend Scott. Totally wiped out, I crashed under the covers of a warm bed. A cracked window allowed the soft patter of rain to filter into the room. I awoke two hours later, refreshed and ready to explore. Searching to photograph a touch of fall, Scott guided me to the three local state parks and over several narrow country roads lined with stone walls, groomed yards, old barns and older cemeteries. Like my journey to find and photograph exquisite fall foliage, the autumn color change is only just beginning ...

Covered bridge over Eight Mile Creek at Devil's Hopyard State Park in central Connecticut.

 Forest along Salmon River near Hwy 16, Conn.