7/6/17 Out of the Green and into the White

July 07, 2017

Living as a flatlander, I am enamored of mountains. Today we rode from the Green to the White and we stepped up in altitude and attitude as Rascal geared us into the next level.

A two hour ride took us all day as we followed the road less taken. Out of the chute, we shot north to Laconia on route 106. The scene of a massive bike rally only weeks ago, we rode freely through traffic lights and small towns. Having been here during the rally, I appreciated our freedom to navigate so easily. Taking the obligatory turnoff to Weir's Beach, we rode along the shore of the Winnipesaukee, dotted with boats on our left and clustered souvenir shops to the right. A sandy beach and a freshwater lake created this tourist haven that draws summer vacationers.

Meredith was our next stop. A huge Harley dealership saw only us browsing among hundreds of bikes as anxious salesmen salivated at the prospect of a score. Sorry- just looking. We picked up a much needed cargo net for $12.95 and passed up on the $60 tank tops. Every year Harley puts the locks on stores across the US. Witnessing this quiet showroom today renders some explanation.

Then we plunged into the White Mountains. After a picnic at a campground guarded by an overzealous Senior, we hopped on route 112, the Kancamagus Highway, switching direction and heading west into the forest. Twisting along the Swift River for most of ride, we mimicked the river's configuration and name as we cranked the "Kanc" at full throttle.

Not ready to head in at the end of this road, we leaned toward the Franconia Notch, riding between rising slabs of granite that had once formed the Old Man of the Mountain. We passed this landmark, but time and erosion have erased his face and only a memory remains. North of Franconia we dove into a loop that took us into the heart of the White Mountain National Park. Through Crawford Notch we traveled south, then curved back into our northerly route, putting feet down in Gorham, NH.

A direct route to Gorham would have brought us "home" before noon. Instead we managed to mark as many miles as we could out of these mountains. When destination is only defined by the present and not the future, options become limitless. So tonight we are in this place, congratulating each other on another great day. And tomorrow ... we head somewhere northeast, final destination unknown. There are so many lonely roads waiting patiently for us to visit, it seems a pity to pass up on any of them.