One way to celebrate – part III

September 12, 2025September 10, 2025 / Ellen Kolb / 2 Comments

The last north country day of my birthday celebration was spent with Marianne Barowski, who led the effort to create the Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail (xNHAT). She is still its number one trail steward. I met her and a likeminded friend in Gorham, where we spotted a car before driving to Shelburne to start a walk down Hogan Road.

This is the third and final installment of the journal for this trip. Part I recounted my bike-defying walk in Franconia Notch, and in part II I sang the praises of the Presidential Rail Trail and the xNHAT.

Hogan Road

Hogan Road is one of the xNHAT segments that puts the “adventure” into “adventure trail.” It’s a woods road, easy for walkers, though its rough varied surface looks like it eats bike tires for breakfast. Busted culverts? Check. Smooth rocks, sharp rocks, indifferently-dumped gravel of random diameter? Check.

Then again, there were a few other things to notice. The Androscoggin River on the south side of the road is of surpassing beauty with Mount Madison rising in the distance. I snacked on wild black raspberries that put my granola bars to shame. I had good company, too. As a rule I prefer to travel solo. When I get the chance to walk a trail with its founder, though, “yes” is the only reasonable response.

Wide river, forested shoreline, mountain in the background, blue sky — *_{From Hogan Road in Shelburne NH, Mount Madison is a striking backdrop to the Androscoggin River.}*

Stewardship, fellowship, gratitude

Our goal for the morning was to check the road’s condition with xNHAT users in mind, and add or replace directional signs as needed. Marianne carried a pack with the necessary equipment, while her friend and I were handy for consultation. That’s pretty much all she needed us for.

This wasn’t a day for piling up miles. Rather, it was a day for fellowship and gratitude. Throughout my trip, I was the beneficiary of the work of trail stewards like Marianne. Her friend, who I think was new to the trail, became a steward that very day when we came to a turn where signage is hard to post and maintain. She went to work building a small cairn there – something that never occurred to me. It was a simple thing, and possibly temporary, but it was a fresh approach to a nagging little issue.

Along the way the river kept inviting us to stop and enjoy the view. It flowed past us silently at first. A few miles later, upstream, it was lively and loud, probably due to a release from the power dam in Gorham.

We discovered a Forest Society sign along the way, identifying the Shelburne Valley Forest, a recently-protected parcel of land that includes a portion of xNHAT. I think that augurs well for the future of passive recreation in the area.

Wrapping up

Returning home after my north country travels, I still had a few miles left to meet my goal. I put them on hold, briefly. My husband, not a hiker but very much an athlete, had a bike race scheduled in Maine two days later. Not a problem. I could walk in Maine.

It turned out that the town where we stayed in Maine had a fine bike/pedestrian trail for me. It ran along the Androscoggin River. Yes, the same river that sweetened the scenery along Hogan Road! I reached my goal there. I couldn’t have known when I started that the Androscoggin would stick with me until I was done. A friend of mine calls such coincidences “Godwinks,” and I’m not about to dispute her.

wide river, forested island, pastel-colored sky at sunset — *_{Androscoggin River near sunset, Brunswick ME}*

Every step of the way, even when I felt absolutely beat, I was grateful for all of it. God is good. In a state full of hikers who knock off 4000-footers before lunch, I maxed out at 16 miles one day on flat trails. (You should have seen the pile of mac & cheese I had for dinner that night.) There’s room in this world for peak baggers and flatlanders alike.

That’s worth celebrating.

I’ll make an endorsement here, unsolicited and uncompensated: thumbs up to the Art Gallery Hostel in Whitefield, which served as base camp for my north country dayhikes. It’s economical, clean, and hiker-friendly. No meals are included, but there’s a kitchen. Dunks is next door, and a grocery store is down the street. Info at booking.com.

If you’d like to support Granite State Walker, you can buy me a coffee. Thanks!

On finding a little less open land

December 31, 2024June 11, 2025 / Ellen Kolb

I’ve tried over the years to develop a habit of gratitude while I’m hiking. Gratitude for what? There’s obvious beauty, of course – the sights that stop me in my tracks and take my breath away. Then there are subtler things I’d miss if I weren’t paying attention: spring wildflowers carpeting the ground, or an owl surveying me from a tree branch.

I got a reminder recently of another blessing that I too often take for granted when I’m walking around New Hampshire. Not a thing, but people. They’re the landowners who allow hikers to cross their property. Open land becomes more scarce with each passing year. I recently discovered that a little sliver of it on which I’ve depended is now posted.

A New England river in winter, with ice at the edges and rushing water in the middle. — *Before reaching the “no trespassing” signs, I walked along the Souhegan River for awhile.* *Ellen Kolb photo.*

Putting up a “no trespassing” sign is every landowner’s right. Finding one along a familiar path makes me sad, though.

Now, I need to change the route of my two-and-a-half mile walk into town from a quiet low-traffic route to a busy road with blind curves and no sidewalks. That’s a problem, but I’ll cope. What bothers me more is that I don’t know why the landowner chose to post the land. Was it because someone crossing the property abused the privilege?

No one owes me an explanation, of course. But I’m sorry I never thanked the landowner while the little strip of land was open.

So I have a resolution to add to my New Year’s list: thank the landowners who let me pass through. They’re a vanishing breed.

While I’m counting my blessings, I’m thanking my readers! I’ve been blogging at Granite State Walker for 18 years, and this blog earned more views in 2024 than ever before. Most visitors got here simply by doing a web search for southern New Hampshire trails, and I hope they’ve been rewarded with lots of good hikes.

The most popular search term this year was “Kearsarge,” and why not? A visit to Winslow or Rollins State Park featuring a hike up Mount Kearsarge makes for a great day.

If you enjoy Granite State Walker, you can help me get to the next trailhead by supporting the blog. Thank you!

Hike Safe, starting with a First Day Hike

December 26, 2024 / Ellen Kolb

Two New Hampshire traditions dovetail nicely this time of year. New Hampshire’s Division of Parks and Recreation is once again sponsoring First Day Hikes on New Year’s Day 2025 at several state parks, and Hike Safe cards for 2025 are now available for purchase on the New Hampshire Fish and Game website. I recommend both.

First Day Hikes

2025’s First Day Hikes are being offered at seven state parks. These are self-guided events, although park staff will be participating in some locations. Events range from cross-country skiing at Milan Hill State Park to a shoreline walk at Odiorne Point in Rye. Advance registration is required. You’ll find more information at the State Parks website. At this writing, two out of the seven events are already full, with no more registrations available, so act fast if you’d like to spend a few hours on New Year’s Day at Odiorne Point, Milan Hill, Mount Monadnock, Pisgah State Park, or White Lake State Park.

At a First Day Hike a few years back, I scored a fleece scarf that I’ve sported nearly every New Year’s Day since. I like starting the year with a flourish.

Hike Safe Card

New Hampshire Fish and Game sells the Hike Safe card, which is actually an online registration, rather than a card to be carried. Every purchase – $25 for an individual or $35 for a family – supports search and rescue efforts that could be required for anyone participating in an outdoor sport or activity in New Hampshire. In most circumstances, people who obtain the cards are not liable to repay rescue costs if they need to be rescued, although that won’t apply in cases of reckless behavior. Read more about the Hike Safe card at the Fish and Game website.

If you purchase one on the F&G website for 2025 before January 1, be sure you click the button for the correct year. You don’t want to pay for 2024 by accident. No refunds.

When it comes to outdoor recreation in New Hampshire, many recreationists pay their way, so to speak, via licenses or vehicle registrations. Hunters, anglers, boaters, snowmobilers, and OHRV operators contribute to trail maintenance and rescue costs that way. Hikers like me don’t need a license, but we can do our bit by getting that Hike Safe card every year.

A bit of a challenge

July 2, 2024 / Ellen Kolb

I’m downright embarrassed. I haven’t been on any hilly hikes lately (save one, about which more below). I haven’t explored anyplace new. Nothing long, despite my good intentions about training for an autumn attempt at the Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail. My recent challenges have been on the order of going up stairs without pulling the railing out of the wall.

Shut up, knees. I’m trying to hike here. I’ve been muttering that a lot since a mid-May mishap in which I banged up both knees, one worse than the other. A few weeks ago I tried a hike up South Uncanoonuc in Goffstown, which with its twin to the north is the first place I go when I test how rehab from injury is going. Nice views, bad judgment. My knees and I have barely been on civil terms ever since. Flat is fine, stairs not so much.

But oh, a stop on a South Uncanoonuc ledge was refreshing. I had a view to the west-southwest, towards the Monadnocks, with Grand Monadnock itself peeking from behind the Wapack range.

photo of hills in distance, pine trees in foreground

I’ve since been walking on easy paths with their own attractions. One of my town’s conservation areas is home to a heron rookery that’s too far away from shore to be captured by my phone’s camera. I pressed my family’s “real” camera into service, to good effect. The juvenile herons are growing fast.

The Nashua River Rail Trail can still surprise me, even after a hundred or more visits. I spotted a trailside blossom the other day that I’d never seen before. Goat’s rue, if my phone’s plant ID app is accurate; I welcome correction from any reader who knows better. In a year when poison ivy and knotweed threaten to overwhelm the trail’s usual flora, this was a treat to find.

goat's rue blossom amid grassy ground cover

Annoyed as I am to be on limited duty, I can see this will be a beautiful summer. May you find pleasant surprises on your own Granite State walks this season.

A first impression

January 30, 2024 / Ellen Kolb / 3 Comments

Long ago when I began exploring Granite State trails, I had a little point-and-shoot film camera that I carried everywhere. I have a shoebox full of prints from those early outings: evidence of an utter beginner. I didn’t know how to frame a shot. I didn’t know that it was hopeless with the fixed lens I had to get a focused close-up of a trillium in bloom. I had trouble holding the camera steady.

Even so, a few of those old prints remain special. They documented my first views of places that I later came to love. Some of those first impressions were dramatic, others much less so. I had no way of knowing that the gifts of time and memory would draw me back to certain places over and over again, seeing and learning new things with each visit.

My very first sight of the Pliny Range from the marsh near Cherry Pond was on an April day. Spring was playing hard to get. I took a photo that captured trees not yet in bud and grasses clad in the dullest of colors. Something about those hills in the distance appealed to me, though, and I wanted to capture them, too. So I snapped the shutter, heedless of the tree in the way.

Image of a meadow with dry grass and bare trees, with a mountain range in the background — _{First impression: Pliny Range seen from Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge, Jefferson NH}

Those hills enchanted me in a way I can’t explain. They invited me back as though they knew I had more to see.

That day of that first impression, I had no notion of the riot of flowers that would line that trail and surround Cherry Pond in summer. I didn’t know how autumn would transform the Pliny Range. I had yet to discover how I’d feel sitting in silence by the pond on a freezing January day with the hills hidden in low clouds. All of that lay ahead. It started for me with a dull spring day preserved in an unremarkable snapshot.

Think about a place you’ve hiked, a place that’s grown on you, maybe even snuck up on you to become a favorite. What was your first impression? Did you know when you first saw it that it would become someplace special for you? I hope you take a photo of each new trail, and don’t succumb to the siren song of the “delete” button. Some of those shots, awful though they may be, will make you smile someday. First impressions aren’t final, but they’re worth remembering.

Image of a pond and meadow with mountain range in the background under a partly cloudy sky — *Fourteen years later: a now-familiar scene*

A pair of enduring favorites

December 3, 2022June 11, 2025 / Ellen Kolb

The Granite State Walker blog is now sixteen years old! This modest landmark prompted me to look back and see which posts have drawn the most viewers – and I hope inspired as many hikes – during that time.

Two destinations finished way out in front: Mount Kearsarge with its trailheads in Warner and Wilmot, and Oak Hill in Concord. Each has prompted several posts from me, and even the older posts keep finding an audience.

Oak Hill, New Hampshire, fall foliage, hill showing through distant haze — view from Oak Hill, looking west toward Mount Kearsarge

mountaintop cairn, blue sky with puffy clouds — view from Oak Hill, looking west toward Mount Kearsarge

I’m not surprised. Each of those locations has a fire tower, which can be an irresistible draw. Each one offers multiple trails. Easy access is another advantage: the south side of Kearsarge, via Rollins State Park, is only a few minutes’ drive from I-89. Oak Hill is close to I-93, and in fact is only a 12-minute drive from the State House (I checked).

The auto road through Rollins State Park ends at a picnic area a half-mile from the Kearsarge summit, which is a short hike for day trippers. (Don’t be lulled into carelessness by the short distance; plan ahead and wear appropriate footwear.) When the auto road is closed to vehicular traffic, usually November through May, it’s still accessible to pedestrians and bicyclists, and one needn’t get to the summit to find fine views along the way. Winslow State Park on the north side of Kearsarge offers a longer hike.

The Oak Hill trails are managed by the city of Concord, which has a surprising number of parks and trails for a city its size. The trail to the fire tower meanders uphill for about two forested miles to the Concord-Loudon town line. Shorter trails lead to pleasant vistas, including a western prospect that looks out toward – you guessed it – Mt. Kearsarge.

In sixteen years as the Granite State Walker, I haven’t run out of good places to explore south of the White Mountains. New trails are ahead, I know. But it’s good to have some old favorites to which we can return now and then. Kearsarge and Oak Hill are two of the best.