One more thing to love about autumn in New Hampshire, as if there weren’t enough already: playfully shuffling and kicking my way through the fallen leaves.
I recently arrived in The Big City (well, big for New Hampshire) for a long-booked three-hour business appointment, only to find it had been cancelled due to a broken piece of equipment. I understood the situation but was miffed nonetheless. Then it occurred to me that with three open hours ahead, I could probably find a decent trail nearby.
Epping was only a few miles away, with its piece of the Rockingham Recreational Trail that I hadn’t yet explored. Off I went. I found a small pullout at the trail crossing on Depot Road, just north of Rt. 101’s exit 6.
Rockingham Recreational Trail, Epping, New Hampshire. The marker indicates the former site of a railroad bridge along the route.Photos by Ellen Kolb.
Fall colors are weeks past. Leaves are down. It’s all quite low-key, which is actually perfect for recovering from a moment of being miffed at a blown appointment.
The trail was covered with crisp dried leaves that rustled with my every step. At some spots, the wind had piled them up. And so I did something I never had a chance to do back when I was a kid in south Florida, and something I used to get annoyed at my own kids for doing after a wearying session of raking: I kicked the pile. I made a racket. Those leaves flew into the air.
It felt great. I had fun. And when I found other piles, I kicked through those, too. I was alone, so I wasn’t worried about looking silly. Pretty soon, I was downright grateful for the busted thingamajig that had caused cancellation of my appointment.
Go ahead. Find yourself a leafy late-fall trail, and send those leaves flying.
Wetland along Rockingham Recreational Trail, autumn, Epping NH.
I needed a hill climb as a mental palate-cleanser the other day. Not a big hill, just one with a view. Brookline (the New Hampshire version) is not-too-terribly far away, so I scooted down Route 13 to the Andres Institute of Art with its hilltop view of the Wapack Range.
A new driveway is now a stone’s throw north of the former entrance. Look for the address 106 Rt. 13. There’s plenty of parking. Even first-time visitors will have no trouble following the signs into the AIA’s property.
The property was once a tiny ski area (rope tows, not gondolas) on a little hill in Brookline. The ski area is long gone. The current owner is a patron of the arts with a passion for sculpture created by artists from all over the world who come to New Hampshire to work in granite. Their work adorns a network of trails winding around the hill.
At the summit is the payoff: a view of the Wapack Range, complete with seating. A striking sculpture entitled Phoenix is in the foreground of the vista. For a short walk uphill (a generous half-mile or so), it’s a pleasant experience.
Wapack Range from Andres Institute of Art summit: Kidder, Monadnock (pointed summit), Temple Mountain ridge
Late-day haze dulled the view a bit. The silhouette of the range was clear enough, though, and I even caught a glimpse of Mount Monadnock playing peek-a-boo behind Kidder Mountain.
On the October day I was there, the paths had a golden glow. Beech and aspen leaves are turning. Flashes of crimson from maples are hinting at the peak foliage that will be on display on a couple of weeks.
The AIA trails can be very popular, but my late-day midweek autumn visit was delightfully quiet. A mental palate cleanser, indeed.
“Phoenix” by Janis Karlovs, Latvia, 1999, Andres Institute of Art“Old Man in the Mountains New Home” by Alak Roy, Bangladesh, 2014, Andres Institute of Art“Rebirth” by Evrim Kilic, Turkey, 2019, on display at Andres Institute of Art, Brookline NH“Animals” by Tony Jimenez, Costa Rica, 2017, Andres Institute of Art. Pure whimsy!
Picking up litter is such a little thing, and I’ve really appreciated that act this year in pandemic time. Increased trail usage in my area has meant more trash on the trails, as people unused to using public lands haven’t yet developed good habits.
Does that sound patronizing? It’s kinder than my gut reaction, which is that people sometimes behave like jerks. Not a neighborly thing for me to think.
At any rate, I see folks rising to the challenge and picking up the trash. Some do so individually. (I keep a trash bag in my pack when I’m out and about, so I have one less excuse for passing by a dropped can.) Some people form or join crews, with the single purpose of cleaning up after thoughtless hikers.
Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay
I have always admired people who are useful on trail crews. Someone has to cut the trails, build the bridges and boardwalks, and replace the bridges and boardwalks after they wear out. Someone has to clear deadfall every year. There’s always work to do. I’ve helped out in minor ways on such projects.
As far as I’m concerned, the people clearing trash on the trails this year are in the same league.
I learned from social media about a group close to home, whose members had dubbed themselves “The Litter Crew.” A few times a month, they announce a trail location and a date and time, and welcome anyone to come. They provide bags, buckets, gloves, and “pickers,” handy claws-on-a-stick.
A few days ago, the Litter Crew called for a cleanup in my town on a trail that I mistakenly thought had been abandoned a long time ago. Not abandoned, as it turns out: it’s a bit of a party spot as well as being a well-defined path through the woods. I collected a single bag’s worth of trash, but that made me an underachiever in this crowd. The total yield, as reported later on the Crew’s Facebook page: “21 Full trash bags, 3 tires, 2 back seats from a car, a bike tire, tons of beer cans, and we found multiple old TVs and a refrigerator.”
That’s one trail on one day in one town. You get the idea. Sometimes, teamwork is the way to go.
I’m grateful to everyone helping to keep New Hampshire trails tidy in this stressful time. It’s not just an aesthetic or environmental thing. It’s a kind and thoughtful act in a time when kindness and thoughtfulness can be hard to come by. Not a bad return on the small investment of picking up some trash.
The New Hampshire Rail Trails Coalition has issued an imposing challenge: travel every rail trail in New Hampshire, and earn a patch. I love patches. I’m in.
Reading the list is an eye-opener. I thought I knew about most of the trails in the state. But Head’s Pond in Hooksett? Nope. Lilac City Greenway, Cotton Valley trail, Fort Hill? Nope, nope, and nope.
I sense some road trips coming.
Hands Across the Merrimack bridge on Piscataquog Rail Trail, Manchester NH. Ellen Kolb photo.
Already, since I’ve taken up the challenge, I have discovered new-to-me trails within a half-hour’s drive of my home. I’ve walked on some and biked on others. Many are well-shaded, which feels great during this hot summer.
I’ll be posting about some of my discoveries in the coming weeks. So far, these aren’t epic journeys. In stressful times, though, I don’t need “epic.” I’m happy to find a bit of beauty and recreation close to home.
Footbridge on New Boston (NH) rail trail. Ellen Kolb photo.
It’s time to dig out my blaze orange gear. My favorite hiking season is at hand. I have no complaints about the season just ended, though. It was a beautiful summer in New Hampshire and beyond.
Mt. Kearsarge, Rollins State Park, Warner
The fire tower on Kearsarge was getting a serious makeover this summer, with heavy mats laid over the trail from Rollins State Park to accommodate construction vehicles. Hikers were still welcome, though. The broad ledgy summit offered its usual fine views.
view from Mt. Kearsarge summit, Warner NH. Photos by Ellen Kolb.
Mt. Kearsarge fire tower gets a makeover, summer 2019
While I was there in July, a group of kids from a Boys and Girls Club arrived on the summit with their chaperones, having hiked up from the state park on the other side of the mountain. One boy, maybe ten years old, bounded around like a puppy. “Dude! I’ve never been to the top of a mountain before!” I suspect he’ll go in search of more.
North Country trip
Four days of car camping in August brought me to trails in Pittsburg and Jefferson and a few places in between. Ramblewood Campground in Pittsburg and Percy Lodge and Campground in Stark served as homes-away-from-home.
It’s tough to pick my favorite part of the Cohos Trail. On this trip, though, Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge in Jefferson staked a pretty strong claim. I circled the refuge one sunny afternoon, stringing together several trail and road segments to make an 8-mile loop. Once out of the woods, the view was all about the surrounding peaks: Mt. Martha to my south, the Presidentials to the east, and the Pliny Range to the north. That just might be the most rewarding flat hiking route I’ve found so far in New Hampshire.
Cherry Pond, Jefferson NH. looking toward Pliny Range.
I didn’t limit this trip to Cohos Trail segments. I discovered Second College Grant, a Dartmouth College property the size of a town, where I enjoyed a serene walk alongside the Dead Diamond River. Another day, perhaps I’ll return for a hike up Diamond Ridge.
From Stark, I took a quick drive to Milan Hill State Park to check out late-afternoon views from the fire tower. Not a hike, but still a treat.
New Boston rail trail
What a difference since my last visit about five years ago. I found the shady New Boston rail trail south of Lang Station upgraded significantly since my last visit. Trail volunteers, take a bow.
New Boston rail trail, NH
I walked for the first time north of Lang Station on the trail to the Goffstown line. Very different up that way: a work in progress, or maybe just in the planning stage. I found blowdowns, mud, and at the Goffstown line, an overgrown swath separating the trail from Route 114.
Someday, if a whole lot of things work out just right, the New Boston trail will connect with the Goffstown rail trail, which already connects to the Piscataquog trail in Manchester.
Zion, Bryce Canyon, Grand Canyon: life-list material
My husband and I spent nine too-short days in Utah and Arizona in early September, where I got my first-and-maybe-last look at some of the gems of the national park system:
Zion, where temps in the low hundreds did nothing to dull the scenery…
Zion National Park, Utah
Bryce Canyon, land of the hoodoos, where even a half-moon can’t blot out the stars at night…
Bryce Canyon National Park
and Grand Canyon’s North Rim, far from South Rim’s crowds, where the sheer scale of the canyon left me speechless.
View of Grand Canyon from North Rim, Arizona
Along the way – it takes a lot of driving to see all three parks in only a few days – we found some beautiful lesser-known recreational areas: Cedar Breaks and Red Canyon in Utah, and portions of Dixie National Forest in Arizona.
As our return flight descended over the Monadnocks on the way into Manchester, I was happy to see our familiar green hills. This is home. Still, I treasure the awesome sights and beautiful places we saw out west.
Five hundred miles. The app on my phone assures me that’s how far I’ve walked and hiked this year. Not far by comparison with many (most?) other hikers, I know. Still, I covered some fine southern New Hampshire places. Thirty-three towns, according to my trail notes, plus a probably-once-in-a-lifetime visit to a place way beyond the border. Not a bad year at all.
August in Winant Park, Concord: mushrooms, not blossoms, bedeck the trails.
Nashua’s Mine Falls might be my favorite city park, but Concord’s Winant Park was a contender this year. I frequently have business in Concord, with Winant only a short drive away. All by itself it justified keeping a pair of trail shoes in the car for spur-of-the-moment hikes.
I visited Miller State Park one late-spring day just before sunset, and had the usually-busy Pack Monadnock summit and fire tower to myself. In thirty years of hikes there, I’d never been on the summit at dusk.
Mt. Monadnock at dusk, seen from Pack Monadnock
Of all the trails new to me this year, the ones in Moose Mountains reservation are the ones most likely to draw me back. I enjoyed an early-fall lunch on Phebe’s Nable. And then there’s Mt. Willard in Crawford Notch: one of the most heavily-trafficked trails in the Whites, but new and delightful to me. What a view!
Crawford Notch seen from Mt. Willard. Take that trail early in the day to avoid crowds.
Each year brings surprises. This year’s was a trip to Italy. I packed walking shoes, of course, and with my husband explored Rome on foot. Despite the exhausting summer heat, I was exhilarated. I’m more at home on trails, but what’s not to love about being a Granite State Walker on vacation?
Dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, seen from Janiculum (Gianicolo) Hill in Rome, Italy.
I hope you can look back with satisfaction on your own hikes from the past year. Even more, I hope you’re looking forward to next year’s adventures. See you out there.
Granite State Walker 