Babcock State Park, West Virginia – October, 1994

We drove out into the backwoods of West Virginia directly from Manhattan where we'd just spent a week. It was like beaming into another world.

The cabin where we lived. There was no phone, no TV, and no heat other than a fireplace. No other cabins in sight, and no other people unless you looked for them.

The old gristmill still worked, although it took some mechanical coaxing every time they started it up.

We hit the color season right on.

This hanging bridge was right outside our cabin door. It led over a rushing trout stream that we could hear at night while we slept.