David Rye has observed a noticeable decline in the familiar cadence of French echoing along the mountain bike trails this summer, a change that reflects a broader absence of Canadian visitors in Vermont. Rye, who serves as the director of the outdoor center at the von Trapp Family Lodge and Resort—a destination famously linked to the story behind *The Sound of Music*—has long seen the northern parts of Vermont draw steady Canadian traffic due to the state’s proximity to the Quebec border. Yet this year, Rye remarked, the scattering of Quebec license plates that typically punctuates local tourist destinations has dwindled. On the rare occasion they do appear, he noted that he goes out of his way to express heartfelt thanks, as though each Canadian arrival is a valuable reminder of past traditions of cross-border hospitality.
In Burlington, another perspective emerges from Nicolo Mendolia, an employee at Trader Joe’s. He has witnessed a distinct quietness during times that are normally bustling with shoppers. To him, the missing crowd is explained quite simply: the absence of Quebecois visitors. He emphasized that, at best, the stores are seeing far fewer Canadians than in previous years. This sense of scarcity is not confined to Vermont alone; it extends across multiple northern states that share direct borders with Canada, where seasonal tourism from Canadian neighbors has historically been as reliable as the change of seasons.
Data supports these anecdotes: Vermont border crossings dropped nearly 39% in July compared with the previous year, according to figures compiled by the state. Statistics Canada, meanwhile, reports that Canadian spending in the U.S. declined by 7.9% in the first quarter of 2025 compared to the same timeframe the year prior. In a twist of irony, the same span saw Americans increasing their trips to Canada and spending nearly 27.3% more there than before, underscoring the imbalance in these once reciprocal patterns of exchange.
My own firsthand observations during a Labor Day visit aligned with these accounts. Vermont seemed unusually subdued. Restaurants that in years past required tedious waits of over an hour were now seating patrons almost immediately, and the lively blend of English tinged with French accents had given way to predominantly regional American voices—locals from New England and tourists from New York—without the familiar presence of Quebecois travelers.
At the heart of this shift lies a broader geopolitical atmosphere. Under President Donald Trump, an often volatile approach to trade relations with Canada—including talk of tariffs and even offhand musings about Canada functioning as America’s “51st state”—appears to have irritated a country widely recognized for its graciousness and good-natured demeanor. Yet those impacted by the situation describe the change not in terms of overt hostility but in subtler terms, comparing it to the cooling of a once easygoing neighborly rapport. Don Dompe, a 61-year-old electrician from Edmonton, likened it to the delicate tension between neighbors who once happily gathered at backyard barbecues but now prefer to maintain distance.
For border communities, this absence is not merely an emotional or cultural void; it carries real economic consequences. Canadians have long provided a consistent customer base for small businesses, motels, restaurants, and local attractions situated close to the border. Becca Brown McKnight, a Burlington city councilor, warned that if this pattern continues, the ripple effects could translate into failing businesses, job losses, and declining livelihoods, particularly since Vermont prides itself on its fragile yet resilient network of small, often family-run establishments.
Some places are mounting creative campaigns to rekindle Canadian affection. In Rochester, New York, the tourism bureau launched an initiative titled *Dear Canada,* a heartfelt appeal noting how much the city misses the energy, tastes, and adventurous spirit of its northern neighbors. Similarly, Las Vegas leaders have made pleas for Canadians to return, pointing out their substantial $3.6 billion contribution to the local economy in 2024 alone. In Burlington, symbolic steps have even included renaming the main downtown avenue temporarily to *Rue Canada* as a gesture of goodwill, demonstrating that while municipal officials cannot alter national immigration laws or trade policies, they can express solidarity through symbolic acts of friendship.
These gestures have elicited touching responses: letters, emails, and even a bouquet in Canadian red-and-white colors from across the border. McKnight recounted how many Canadians wrote in to share generational connections with Vermont, underscoring the enduring human ties that policymakers cannot easily dissolve. Yet despite sentiments of nostalgia, many acknowledge that the practical realities of tense politics may keep Canadians hesitant.
Individual stories bring these shifts into sharp relief. Matthew Hall, a business owner from Victoria, once incorporated yearly trips into the United States as carefree parts of his family’s lifestyle. Whether by ferry to Port Angeles or by road trip to Portland, these journeys represented routine leisure. Even during previous phases of strained U.S. politics, Hall never hesitated to visit. But in the current climate, with renewed talk of tariffs and destabilizing rhetoric, he has chosen instead to cancel an entire family and business trip to the U.S., redirecting his travels within Canada, particularly to Quebec. His deliberate choice to withhold spending in the United States reflects a quiet protest against what he perceives as volatility and uncertainty.
For Americans reliant on his patronage, Hall’s decision is emblematic of a larger pattern that carries emotional weight. Towns that once benefited from thriving visitor flows now struggle to reconcile with diminished economic activity and cultural connections. Campaigns like *Dear Canada* speak as much to nostalgia for companionship as they do to economic necessity.
Still, not all Canadians are making their choices based solely on financial or political reasoning. Some, such as a younger dual citizen who identifies as queer and nonbinary, express that changing social attitudes and hostile legal climates in the U.S. influence their reluctance to cross the border. Despite fondness for American landscapes, friendships, and cherished restaurants, this individual chose to withdraw from planned U.S. trips—a sentiment that resonates with many who perceive the current political and social atmosphere as inhospitable.
Others recall deeper histories of cooperation that now seem at odds with the current distance. Dompe, reflecting on decades of shared experiences, pointed to Canada’s immediate assistance during crises such as September 11th and America’s support during Canadian wildfires. For him, hearing casual talk of annexation like the “51st state” remark struck a particularly raw chord, signaling disregard for decades of solidarity.
Ultimately, what emerges is a portrait of two nations whose closeness has been disrupted—not destroyed, but altered in ways that may resist a simple return to the past. From Vermont’s trails to Las Vegas’s casinos, the absence of Canadian visitors reverberates economically, socially, and emotionally. Symbolic gestures, campaigns, and renamings may bridge some gaps, but lingering skepticism suggests that deeper healing will be required before the easy camaraderie of Canadian tourists on American soil is once again taken for granted.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/americans-businesses-beg-canadian-tourists-come-back-2025-9
