After a stressful week in Bonn, I made my way from the conference center to the airport the night before my flight to Boston was scheduled. A few hotels are conveniently located next to Frankfurt Airport, so I relatively relaxed checked into my 8-hour flight with Condor . Being used to flying long hours as I am living in New Zealand, these 8 hours felt like a quick hop over the Atlantic.
Before our trip, we spent quite some time discussing what we wanted to do, given the limited time I would have while I was in the States on my way back to Aotearoa, New Zealand. At first, we wanted to cram as much as possible into it, so we came up with the idea to visit Acadia National Park in the far Northeast of Maine and go even further, probably even into Canada. Eventually, we decided less is more, and we went on the shortest way to Montreal (where I am flying out of), but we spent a lot of time hiking in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont.
Through Immigration at the airport and having picked up my luggage, I was out of the terminal in no time, and John was already there to pick me up. We wanted to make our way as far north as possible today. So, we left Massachusetts and drove up to New Hampshire. Soon, we left the Interstate and took backcountry roads toward Maine. It was a hot summer, and soon, we started to get hungry and thirsty. We stopped in Fryeberg/Maine for dinner. But our destination was a lodge in the White Mountains in Maine. After one more hour of driving, we took a small gravel road towards Evergreen Valley.
We got hit by a hot and humid wall of summer air when we got out of the car. The place was more run down than the price suggested. The room had a so-called Murphy Bed that could be folded back to the wall during the day. As if this wasn’t enough, the whole room had a lot of vintage charm, to say it nicely: A foldable wall separates a kitchenette from the living area, and the air con looked like it was from before the war (which one, I am not sure).
Anyway, a vast window gave a view of the area, and I almost awaited a moose walk by. After some relaxing and hiking the next day, during which we got poured one (which brought a much-needed temperature drop), we continued to Gorham. That is a town in New Hampshire with approx. 2,700 inhabitants. John and I have been here several times before, as it is the perfect hub for any activities in the White Mountains. These mountains are part of the Appalachians but are more rugged, and several peaks even contain an Alpine tundra. Hiking in this area always means steep ascents and descents, little bits and pieces of scrambling, and ankle-rolling terrain. But once you are up and above the tree line on the peaks, you get amazing views all over the area. The famous Appalachian Trail also makes its way through this area, and not only once did we touch the trail on your venturings out here. So, while we were in the Whites, we hiked the Pine Mountain Trail (13ish miles), a loop including AT and the Carter-Moriah-Trail (10ish miles), and did some hiking in Moose Brook State Park. However, more than just once, I stopped along the tail. I wondered how the heck I was supposed to continue hiking the trail: even more true for the Appalachians than any other area: when in doubt, the trail always goes up, even though you might not see the trail as all is rocks and slates.
Unfortunately, the incoming thunderstorm didn’t allow for some hiking in Vermont, but it has been very nice to experience the state from the backcountry roads and small towns we stopped in for food and lodging.
Canada is calling!