At the airport, she predicted, “I don’t expect scheduled flights for another 10 years.” We piled into her Subaru and headed downtown. It’s a buzzing local-food emporium where customers shop for groceries, comb the salad bar and sip coffee at café tables.
The deli sells sandwiches made with local breads and cheeses, and we sampled two for lunch: I got a creamy, hot turkey Reuben on rye; Megan went for a grilled cheese sandwich spiked with Michelle’s Spicy Kimchi, made in Craftsbury Common.
She’ll sell her ciders, along with local cheeses, in a retail shop just inside the tasting center’s main door.
Before he got his pilot license in 2003, he ran his own farm in the area. “I just got tired of giving blood and getting nothing in return.” From the air, Newport looks like an idyllic settlement jutting out into shimmering Lake Memphremagog, a patchwork of churches, bridges and houses surrounded by water.
Much of it was built in the late 1800s, during the lumber boom, when Newport was a major stop on the railroad line between Boston and Montréal.
The roof of the water park reflected the clouds as if it were a giant mirror.
Within 45 minutes, we were safely back in the terminal, with its worn couch and popcorn machine. She’s head of the Newport City Renaissance Corporation, a nonprofit working to revitalize Newport’s Main Street, and has been collaborating with Gauvin for the past six years on plans to expand the airport.
“Today, we’re looking at a community that has a lot of qualities to it, a lot of business opportunity,” says Stenger.