New Hampshire

Goal: finish that Rail Trail Challenge

/ Ellen Kolb

I have had a grand time the last couple of years with the Rail Trail Challenge, encouraged by the New Hampshire Rail Trails Coalition of which I’m a board member. Explore all of New Hampshire’s rail trails, get a patch. I am ridiculously motivated at the prospect of hanging that patch on my wall alongside my hard-earned patch from the Forest Society’s Reservation Challenge.

The end is in sight, as I glare balefully at my trail list with a great big blank next to “Ashuelot Rail Trail.” That trail has been sitting on the list, mocking me. I don’t get out to Cheshire County very often. Last time I did, I got a brief taste of the Ashuelot trail’s northern end, with its convenient parking area off Krif Road near Keene State College’s athletic fields. My visit was much too short to be classified as “exploration.” No fair checking off a 20-mile trail after a four-mile sampling.

This is the year. I’ll start very shortly by spending a day in Winchester, savoring the southern end of the trail. The drive out that way will be something to savor as well. Grand Monadnock and the humbler hills nearby are always sights to soothe the soul.

Don’t judge me too harshly for following a checklist. The one for the Rail Trail Challenge is pure fun. It has introduced me to trails I would never have known about otherwise. Not a mile has been wasted, and that includes the miles I have traveled getting to the trailheads – and isn’t that always the case for good hikes anywhere?

bench along trail overlooking lake
Goffstown Rail Trail overlooking Namaske Lake. Ellen Kolb photo.

Meanwhile, closer to home…

Regarding rail trails closer to home, I’ve been on a few old favorites this spring. The Nashua River Rail Trail, for one: I’m delighted to see that the NRRT is getting some long-overdue maintenance on its Massachusetts side. The volunteers who maintain NRRT do a great job, but sometimes the paved trail needs intensive work that only the state Department of Conservation and Recreation can provide. Nice to see this well-loved path getting what it needs.

The Rockingham Recreational Trail had some serious ruts in it during mud season. I can understand the cyclists’ impatience, although I know the trail takes a big hit from its users’ early-spring exuberance. As the trail has dried out, the surface has been more forgiving. I’ve enjoyed the Auburn section of trail this April. A bonus the last time I was there was the sight of a loon on Lake Massabesic. I’ve seen plenty of gulls near the parking area by the lake, but the loon was a rare treat.

The Goffstown Rail Trail was in good shape when I walked a few miles on it recently. Winter deadfall has been moved aside, and last fall’s broken glass left behind by careless users has been cleaned up. The Friends group for the trail stays on top of things. Near the west end of Namaske Lake – actually part of the Piscataquog River, behind the dam near the Manchester city line – there’s a new bench on the trail, facing the lake. It’s a pleasant place to stop for a few minutes.

I haven’t sworn off hilly hikes. Sometimes I need to get out on a ledge to find a good vista. The rail trails have kept me busy, though, and I don’t regret that one bit.

Cusp of spring

/ Ellen Kolb

My favorite garden center opened for the season yesterday. I picked up one pot each of forced narcissus and hyacinths to put in my front window. No reason, really, except that I want something colorful to look at while the hickory and elm trees outside are still looking drab.

A few more weeks and the drab of winter will be past. Buds are swelling. I walked in Concord today on a trail along the Merrimack River. Around me were bare shrubs, bare trees, and fields of corn stubble. But something further away caught my eye: an island in the middle of the meandering river, with trees adorned with cloud-like pale-red streaks. Maples, of course, flowering earlier than all the other trees. Delightful.

Early April, Merrimack River: looks like spring is coaxing the maples along. Ellen Kolb photo.

The trail was in good shape, with very little mud. That’s not the case everywhere in southern New Hampshire, and mud season makes it challenging for me to pick good places to walk. The bugs aren’t out in force yet, though, which is a plus.

Soon I won’t have to look past my yard for flowering trees and unfolding leaves. That means my spring allergies will soon flare up. Worth it, though.

For now, I like being on the cusp of spring. The tom turkeys in my neighborhood are mightily displaying their plumage in an attempt to impress the hens. My neighbor on the sunnier side of the street is tending to the gorgeous little patch of crocuses blooming in her yard. The herons are back at their rookery. And of course the peepers are out now – the tiny tree frogs whose springtime call sounds like a chorus of little bells.

Turkeys at sunset

/ Ellen Kolb

I seldom take sunset walks these days. Fresh into Daylight Savings Time, though, I find myself with daylight to work with even after I’m through with the dinner dishes. The lingering light lured me outside yesterday, long enough for a round-the-block stroll. I was well-rewarded: I saw and heard the local turkeys as they called it a day.

We share our suburban development with a flock of wild turkeys. My neighbors and I are accustomed to seeing them a few at a time in our yards throughout the year, patiently gobbling up spilled seed beneath bird feeders or checking out freshly-turned soil in our gardens. The flock has grown over the past several years, and I counted 57 turkeys a few weeks ago, pecking and scratching under nearby power lines for whatever food they could find. They’re habituated to us, but still wild.

Wild turkeys flocking together, late winter. Ellen Kolb photo.

I’m used to hearing gobbling and clucking, along with the occasional thumping whoosh as a turkey takes ungainly flight, usually at just the right altitude to match the grille of an oncoming car. On my recent sunset walk, I heard that whoosh, then another and another. Soon I came upon the cleared space under the power lines, and there they were: dozens of turkeys, taking flight one at a time, not to torment motorists but to head into the nearby pines to roost.

I’d never seen a flock at sunset. I stood fascinated, watching them ascend to their chosen spots. There were a few kerfuffles as some of the roosting birds objected to having their space invaded by later arrivals, but there was ample room in the stand of trees for all of them. Soon the clucking subsided to softer sounds, and the whooshes came to an end.

The timing was none of my doing. I just got lucky. Pretty good stuff, for a spur-of-the-moment walk.

male wild turkey displaying feathers
Male wild turkey, posing for his portrait. Ellen Kolb photo.

According to New Hampshire Fish and Game, wild turkeys were successfully re-introduced into New Hampshire in the 1970s, after more than a hundred years of absence due to habitat loss and overhunting. Since then, the turkeys have been thriving. Too thriving, it sometimes seems: I think every driver in the state has at one time or another had to stop for a bunch of turkeys crossing a road, always one bird at a time, moving at an infuriatingly leisurely pace.

I’ve grown a bit more patient with the big fowls as they’ve moved into the neighborhood. I’ve seen them throughout the year, courting and squabbling and caring for their young. Without meaning to, I’ve picked up a bit about the rhythm of their lives. They’re remarkable, even if they do act as though they own the roads.

Teamwork makes solo walks possible

/ Ellen Kolb

I was on the Nashua River Rail Trail for a few miles this weekend. I couldn’t help noticing freshly-cut logs and branches along both sides, thanks to volunteers I’ll probably never meet. Breezes and recent heavy wet snow had brought down trees all over the place. On the northernmost stretch of NRRT, the mess is cleared. All I had to toss aside were a few small branches.

Nashua River Rail Trail: winter winds brought down a tree, and volunteers cleared away the mess. Fence-mending will wait.

Not so upstate at one of New Hampshire’s largest ski areas which I recently visited. It’s one of the few ski areas in the state with a decent system of trails for Nordic skiers and snowshoers. While the resort’s management is understandably focused on the downhill ski trade (that’s where the money is), there’s not enough staff to keep the snowshoe/fat bike trails cleared, at least not yet this season.

I’ve kept an eye on websites reporting on New Hampshire rail trail conditions. Many of the rail trails are much longer than NRRT and have that much more of a mess to clean up. Enter the snowmobile clubs: I’m aware of two in particular in the southwestern part of the state that put out calls for volunteers for workdays this weekend. I’m sure that snowmobile clubs all over the state are doing the same thing, as pretty much every region got hit by storms over the couple of weeks.

Those clubs are doing work that will make walks much easier for me year-round, not just in winter. Grooming snow, clearing deadfall, and mowing grass take time and equipment and volunteers. I like walking alone, but some of the most enjoyable trails I know wouldn’t be accessible or pleasant without the work of many people. My solo walks benefit from teamwork.

Want to say thanks to the snowmobile clubs? Send a donation, even if you’re not a member. Include a note saying that you’re a grateful hiker. The New Hampshire State Parks website provides a list of clubs, and you can look up a club’s social media accounts (usually updated much more frequently than websites) to find contact information and to keep track of opportunities to volunteer for trail work.

My winter walks thus far have mostly been close to home, in neighborhoods and municipal parks. Those routes could use post-storm help, too. Your town’s parks and rec department or conservation commission might put out a call for volunteers on specific cleanup projects. Be on the lookout for such announcements.

And if you happen to come across some folks doing trail maintenance while you’re out and about, stop to say thanks.

Hike Safe card: not just for mountain hikers

/ Ellen Kolb / 1 Comment

For my New Hampshire readers, here’s a plea from me: if you haven’t purchased a Hike Safe card for 2023, please do so now. Even if you’re sure you’ll never need to be rescued, buy one anyway. It will be a small way of supporting the state’s Search and Rescue fund. Sadly, demands on the fund never let up.

TL;DR: Take out a credit card, go online to the New Hampshire Fish and Game’s Hike Safe page, and plunk down $25 for a virtual card covering an individual, $35 for a family. If a Hike Safe cardholder needs to be rescued in the course of an outdoor activity, she or he will not in most cases be assessed for the cost of the rescue. Just get the card. Don’t wait.

I write this as I hear news about a hiker who perished upstate while attempting a solo hike on a mountain ridge in winter weather. A few weeks ago, another hiker lost her life in the same area. Rescue attempts, which became recovery missions, involved professional conservation officers from New Hampshire Fish and Game plus many volunteers.

Those same volunteers and first responders would come out even if the trail were less challenging. They don’t write off any of us. Missing hikers, once reported overdue by family or friends, spark a search-and-rescue mission.

I know from experience that hikes can go awry even in good weather on heavily-traveled trails. (A particularly embarrassing day on Monadnock comes to mind.) While I haven’t yet inspired any rescue missions, I’m uncomfortably aware that this could change anytime. I carry simple essentials even for short hikes, but even so, bad stuff happens now and then.

Ninety percent of my trail miles are on flat trails within an hour of my home. I buy a Hike Safe card every year anyway. It’s cheap insurance against being assessed some hefty costs arising from my own negligence. More importantly, the card lets me as a hiker contribute to the readiness of search-and-rescue teams.

Hunters, anglers, and anyone registering a boat, OHRV, or snowmobile already contribute to the Search and Rescue fund as part of their license and registration fees. Hikers don’t need a license. We can pull our weight, so to speak, by purchasing the Hike Safe card.

Early fall, Northern Rail Trail

/ Ellen Kolb

If the Danbury Country Store were a human being, it would be my new best friend. This and other treats awaited me as I set out on a long walk on the Northern Rail Trail.

Fifteen miles is a big stretch for me, especially after losing fitness and energy to post-Covid problems earlier this year. I had to crawl, figuratively, before I could walk far again. I’ve added a few more miles each week. This week, I decided to go big. I walked on the trail from Potter Place in Andover to the Danbury Country Store and back. I figured that was one way to evaluate how I’m doing.

I’m doing fine. Sore, yes, but fine.

Sights

I’d seen Potter Place before, but its charm catches me by surprise every time. The restored depot in Andover close to the US 4/NH 11 junction is a tribute to the people who care about the rail trail and the railroad’s history. The Northern Rail Trail is in fact well-loved and well-maintained throughout its fifty-plus miles. A big park-and-ride lot just down Depot Street from Potter Place is an ideal spot from which to launch a walk or ride along the trail.

Central Vermont Railway car and restored train depot, Andover, New Hampshire
Potter Place: restored depot and an old Central Vermont Railway car. All photos by Ellen Kolb.

Coming upon an old cemetery is no surprise on any of my walks. In Wilmot, I came upon one that looks beautifully tended. From a distance the markers looks unweathered. They’re all upright. The stone wall around the cemetery is a work of art, albeit with some interesting items (read: “trash”) tucked between some of the stones.

Eagle Pond Cemetery, Wilmot

I even got a glimpse of Mt. Kearsarge. I took a photo that came out fuzzy, but even so one can barely discern the cell tower on the summit, with the fire tower just to its right.

Mt. Kearsarge seen from Northern Rail Trail

Foliage

Fall is my favorite time to take walks, and even the weeks before peak foliage can be splendid. I found plenty of leaves underfoot this week. Remaining foliage in the central New Hampshire area I visited is still a week or two away from full color. Icy blue asters, a last reminder of summer, persist all along the trail, contrasting nicely with the changing leaves.

Tiny blue flowers in the foreground contrast nicely with the changing leaves.
Eagle Pond in Wilmot

Lunchtime

My turnaround spot was the Danbury Country Store. It’s a must for anyone traveling along the NRT. I figured I’d sit on one of the porch seats there and nibble on a Clif bar from my pack. That was before the store’s deli crew set out two fresh hot pizzas. Game, set, match, and the Clif bar retreated to its pocket.

Also at the store: an air pump for cyclists, a huge assortment of beverages, the usual country-store inventory, and a deli where you can have any sandwich made to order. Enjoy. I sure did.

As I write this the day after my walk, I’m nursing a few aches, but they’re good aches. The kind that don’t herald injuries; the kind that whisper please don’t try this two days in a row. Best fifteen miles of the year, and that’s good to write three months after I needed my husband’s help to get around the block.

Fall isn’t winter’s knock on the door. Instead, winter is the price I pay for fall hiking. Fair exchange, in my view.