Lost In New Hampshire

Plaice Cove, Hampton

On the road, riding my new "fat tire" bicycle, I climbed the precipitous Nason Road, named after a man who raised a regiment from Hampton, New Hampshire, to fight in the Civil War.  I crossed Drinkwater Road and pedaled along Nason until the road ended in an unmarked road. Unmarked roads are the norm in this part of New Hampshire, where the natives seem to spurn the custom and practice of naming any road with a sign. I long ago concluded Granite Staters simply believe is you don't know where you are, you don't belong here.

Granite State, Not for Nothing

I turned right, which I took to be north and west, knowing the ocean is to my back, and found myself riding along a road in Hampton Falls, which is gorgeous, lined with fences to keep the horses in place.  The houses here are large, pristine and there are Trump signs.  

Kensington, N.H.

Finally, I passed a house with a Bernie sign and I stopped to ask the lady raking her lawn behind it if I could take a picture. 

"Sure," she said. "Why?"
"I just wanted to show my friends in Hampton there's a Bernie sign in Hampton Falls," I said. 
"Actually," she said. "You're in Kensington."
"I'm always lost in New Hampshire," I told her.
"Isn't everyone?" she replied and returned to raking.

Hampton Falls, NH, with goats

Down the road I ran into Route 108, which I knew would take me to Exeter.  

Passing by the athletic complex of Phillips Exeter Academy, I notice the new excavation for a Dance and Theater Center. The academy has an endowment of over 1 billion dollars.  Its campus is far more splendid than my college had.  It's a Disneyland sort of campus, with red brick buildings garnished with windows with white sills.  But I can never shake the idea that the students come here to live at age 14.  Leaving home at age 18 was pretty wrenching. I moved into my dorm and looked around and realized I was now 500 miles from home, and knew nobody.  Well, not exactly nobody. Two other kids from my high school came up to this college, but I didn't know either very well.  And, in those days there were no cell phones or Skype. A long distance phone call was expensive and we wrote letters then. But, even with Skype, leaving home must be a big deal, at age 14.

Hampton, NH 

Do these kids feel lost?

Continuing along Rte 27, which runs all the way back to the ocean, I reached Hampton and was struck by the trees.  During the winter you hardly notice them. But now they are coming into bloom. 

leafing up

The neighborhoods are modest here, but the trees are anything but.  They are bursting with bloom, proclaiming their wealth of blossom and leafiness. 

cedar shingles and gables

It was not a hard winter, but Spring in New Hampshire feels like a reward, earned or not.  The air is crisp and you feel lucky just to live here. 

Rte 27