Living color: autumn’s best in the Granite State

November 2, 2024February 26, 2026 / Ellen Kolb

This been a magnificent autumn in New Hampshire, and I’ve tried to make the most of it. Even now, with the foliage faded and fallen, I love the season. There’s no better time for a walk on a New Hampshire trail, whether it’s a ten-minute respite from the day’s work or a full day on a long trail.

Two views of Mt. Kearsarge

From Oak Hill in Concord, Mt. Kearsarge is a hazy double summit (at left). Photos by Ellen Kolb.

One afternoon in early October, I headed to Concord’s Oak Hill trails. I should’ve known what to expect: I-93 southbound was jammed with leafpeepers coming home from the North Country, where foliage at that time was at its most colorful. I figured Oak Hill, with colors just beginning to change in the Concord area, would be quiet. Nope: I had to squeeze my little car into about three-quarters of a space in the Shaker Road lot. I knew right away that the path to the fire tower would be busy, and I wanted some solitude. Fortunately, Oak Hill offers several miles of paths from which to choose. I went to an old favorite – a little ledge with a bench and a nice view toward the west featuring Mt. Kearsarge’s distinctive gentle profile.

Three weeks later, autumn in south-central New Hampshire was in its glory. The Craney Hill fire tower in Henniker, which is decommissioned and usually closed to the public, was going to be open for a day or two. I learned about the opportunity only a day in advance, and I wasn’t about to miss it. Weather was perfect. The drive to Henniker along Route 114 was the stuff of picture postcards. From the cab of the tower itself, the region’s foliage stretched out for miles – and there to the north was Mt. Kearsarge again, layered in colors, topped with the evergreens that reach almost to the summit ledge.

I think the town of Henniker has custody of the Craney Hill tower, and the once-a-year public accessibility relies on volunteers and support from visitors.

A change of plan

I had planned to join a group for a 13-mile fundraising walk on the Rockingham Recreational Trail, but unfortunately, the event had to be cancelled. I decided to walk the 13 miles anyway, on a modified route. Four hours-plus on that familiar trail in foliage season? Yes, please. Besides, I’d been sponsored by a generous donor to the shelter that was to have benefited from the fundraiser.

The trail goes by Onway Lake in Raymond. The woods surrounding the lake provided a fine payoff to a long morning’s work.

autumn foliage reflected in a lake in New Hampshire — _{Onway Lake mirrored the foliage on an October morning.}

And here’s the track my GPS app made of my walk through Candia and Raymond, out and back.

I managed to spend nearly five hours on the way because I dawdled at Raymond Depot, where I found an open house being held by the local historical society, and I also stopped at the one and only Dunks along the way for some caffeinated refreshment. Every minute of the day was a gift.

Postscript to summer

Here’s the long-awaited coda to my efforts in August and September to complete the Cross New Hampshire Adventure trail: I finally got the job done, in spite of the pesky osprey that tried to discourage me. Neither birds nor ballast nor lack of money for shuttles could keep me from exploring XNHAT from end to end. The trail attracts bicyclists from near and far, but I was happy to walk, even though it meant walking each segment out-and-back. (I’d gladly do the Pondicherry section out-and-back anytime.) For the finale in Shelburne and Bethel, my wonderful husband served as my shuttle driver. He patiently rode his bike while I paced off the last few miles.

I just might dedicate a long post to the whole darn trail someday. It’s a treasure. I am sporting the finisher’s patch on my fleece jacket, not sticking it in a scrapbook with my other hiking patches. This one is going public so that people will ask me about it, which will give me a chance to tell them about the trail.

_{The Granite State Walker is a big fan of XNHAT.}

Summer walks, featuring an irritated osprey

August 26, 2024February 26, 2026 / Ellen Kolb / 1 Comment

No mountain hikes for me this season, but New Hampshire provides many other places to enjoy.

A brief encounter with an angry bird

The Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail (XNHAT) is eighty-plus miles long, from Woodsville in the west to Bethel (Maine) in the east. Most of the people enjoying the trail are bicyclists, some traveling in organized groups, covering the length of the trail in two or three days. Then there’s the likes of me, hoofing it a few miles at a time during occasional North Country trips. This summer I’ve been nibbling away at the easternmost twenty-five miles or so, through Gorham and Shelburne.

From Hogan Road in Gorham NH: Mts. Madison and Adams

Earlier this month, I was walking on XNHAT’s rough and rustic Hogan Road when I came upon a wide power line cut. An osprey was on its big nest atop a platform next to a power line support. I stopped to take a photo. That was precisely the wrong thing to do. Whether by standing still or by pointing my phone at the nest, I made the big bird think its nest was threatened. The osprey promptly swooped down and dove at my head. When I took a few steps back, it continued to circle me, making it clear that I was not going to get past the power line cut that day. Back I went, retracing my steps to my car, cutting a planned 12-mile walk down to eight. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. This was one obstacle I’d never anticipated.

I’ve been close to bears, moose, deer, bison, and countless smaller beasties. Never before has one come after me. Respect the talons, I say.

Southern New Hampshire summer sights

Cheshire County: Rhododendron State Park in Fitzwilliam had a fairly tame annual bloom this year in July, but even the few blossoms on the giant shrubs made a pleasing sight. After a walk through the shady rhododendron grove, I continued a mile down a road just outside the park, finding my way to Rockwood Pond and the Cheshire Rail Trail. Black-eyed Susans, Monadnock in the distance, and a retired rail excursion car on display along the rail trail: a lot of variety for one afternoon’s rambling.

At Troy Depot, a Boston and Maine excursion car is on display.

View from a forest, with hills in the distance — _{On Oak Hill, Concord NH}

Concord: I usually head straight up Oak Hill’s two-mile trail to the fire tower, but this time I explored side trails and spurs all over the hill. At the fire tower, hazy skies muted the panorama somewhat, but the breeze on a tower’s top landing always feels great on a hot day. I lucked into finding a fire spotter on duty, so I got to visit the cab for a few minutes.

Milford: Passing through Milford on a muggy Sunday, I stopped to check out a pedestrian path that connects Keyes Field and Emerson Park along the Souhegan River. This one’s pretty close to my home, and yet I’d never seen it. It’s delightful. There’s a pedestrian bridge over the river, letting walkers go between the recreational areas without having to navigate the busy Milford Oval. Informational signage along the trail identifies various flora and provides historical information. Thumbs up to the town of Milford for this little municipal gem.

_{Pedestrian bridge over Souhegan River in Milford NH.}

All photos by Ellen Kolb.

A bit of a challenge: knees vs. trails

July 2, 2024February 26, 2026 / 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, New Hampshire, 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.

Looking down: spring wildflowers

June 2, 2024June 11, 2025 / Ellen Kolb

My spring hiking has been hobbled – literally – by a bruised knee. Sounds trivial, but it’s a nuisance. No hilltop vistas for me in May. Fortunately, with rail trails and local conservation areas, I’ve had options. And May was a month for wildflower hikes.

April showers did exactly what the old rhyme says they do. Before taller plants were ready to flower, ground covers were blooming. I appreciate the tiny flowers that announce the end of mud season. I love the way their colors punctuate the season’s new growth. Certain flowers seemed to be everywhere I walked: purple fringed polygala, starflower, bluets.

Others were harder to find. In the conservation area closest to my house, I searched in vain for two weeks for trillium before finding a single one. I spotted no lily of the valley until the last week of the month.

To my delight, I did find a jack-in-the-pulpit on a trail in the next town over. That odd little plant might be everywhere, but I hadn’t spotted one before. It’s just a few inches high. I only found it because it was tucked right next to a particularly vigorous shoot of poison ivy, and its foliage didn’t seem to match. I carefully nudged the poison ivy’s leaves aside and was rewarded with the day’s prize sighting.

The ladyslippers always seem to spring out of nowhere in May. This has been a good year for them. A friend sent me an email one day about a certain trail we like, saying “ladyslipper alley coming next week.” Indeed! One day they were nowhere in sight even though I knew I was standing where I’ve seen them in other years. A week later, I spied a few pairs of ladyslipper leaves cautiously stretching out as though they were reluctant to give up shielding the flower stalks inside. Within just a few days, the stalks were upright, each one a good eight inches high or more, each bearing a striking blossom. Nothing tiny or modest about these ephemeral spring beauties. They show off like divas for two weeks, then it’s goodbye until next year.

Not everything blooming in spring is delightful. Invasive plants along my local trails threaten to overpower native vegetation. I found a patch of unfamiliar flowers making themselves at home at a nearby trailhead. A phone app backed up by some information from UNH’s Cooperative Extension service helped me identify the plant as garlic mustard. That inoffensive-looking pest will spread all over the forest floor if it’s left unchecked, crowding out the woodland wildflowers. I pulled up what I could, and I’ll be back to pull some more, disposing of it in the trash and definitely not in the compost pile.

June might see me back on the hills as my knee heals. I call North Uncanoonuc in Goffstown my rehab hill, because that’s the first place with any elevation that I go to post-injury. I hope to be there soon.

_{All photos by Ellen Kolb.}

If you enjoy Granite State Walker, I hope you’ll consider supporting the blog. Thank you!

Granite State Walker makes a move (and it’s not a hike)

April 11, 2024June 8, 2024 / Ellen Kolb

trail junction sign on Oak Hill trails, Concord NH — *_{Trail junction, Oak Hill trails, Concord NH}*

My Substack newsletter Braided Trails will soon include excerpts from Granite State Walker as well as original material inspired by New Hampshire trails. I hope you’ll subscribe.

Mt. Kearsarge in New Hampshire, seen from the Northern Rail Trail — _{Mt. Kearsarge seen from the Northern Rail Trail, Wilmot}

So why the addition? Here’s an excerpt from my intro to Braided Trails:

Readers have been curious or kind enough to follow me down various paths through the years. New Hampshire hikers have kept Granite State Walker going. At Leaven for the Loaf, I’ve reported on pro-life projects and legislation at the state level. My eponymous blog has been a promotional portfolio where I’ve also explored aspects of my Catholic faith.

But omigosh, what if the hikers don’t like my politics or my State House readers don’t care about my hiking or somebody somewhere is put off by a portfolio from a Catholic scribbler? I’ve tried to keep you all a secret from each other.

Enough already. Welcome to Braided Trails.

“Braid” is a nod to the three distinct blogs I’ve launched since 2006. This Substack is a place where each theme can get its due, in context with the others: braided, not fused. It’s about time I found a space big enough to bring the whole blessed lot of us together. It’s big enough for new readers, too.
https://ellenkolb.substack.com/p/intro-so-whats-a-braided-trail

Intrigued? Then I welcome you on board. Subscribing is free. And if you’d prefer to stick with this blog, plain and simple, that’s fine, too. I’m delighted to write for you in either case.

Thanks – and I’ll see you on the trails.

Spring is here, summer’s coming…and so is *Braided Trails.*

A first impression, a trail to treasure

January 30, 2024February 26, 2026 / 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 as I made my first visit to the Presidential Rail Trail. 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.