Day 63

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Obfuscator writes: The morning came to us in Franconia Notch State Park with little fanfare. Being wedged between two mountains as we were, there was no real dawn per se, just fairly sudden light. The notch really is just an elongated pass between the two, and there's not much there, other than an elongated State Park and the highway that runs down the middle. Because it's so narrow, most of the State Park is actually made up of separate exits on this highway, and since it's a divided highway, they're only accessible going one direction. This means that to get to some of them, you have to drive up to others, exit, turn around, and get back on the highway.

The first thing we wanted to see on our way out of the park was the Old Man of the Mountain. We didn't know much about the Old Man of the Mountain, but we knew that his visage appears on everything related to New Hampshire, including but not limited to their state quarter, roadsigns, and license plates. To get to his lair, we had to first turn around at something called The Flume, which had a visitor's center. We stopped, and from the signs, determined that it would probably be worth seeing, but didn't open for another hour or so. We got back on the highway and headed toward the Old Man of the Mountain once again and on our way, we passed a spot we couldn't easily ignore.

The Basin was one of our many false exits in looking for the campground the night before, but we had no idea what it was, because it was far too dark to go looking around at that time. The Basin, it turns out, is basically a much larger version of the potholes we saw at Texas Falls. The water falls for a short way and then swirls around. This process has carved out an enormous and smooth bowl in the rock, which was rather spiffy. There's a formation there called The Old Man's Foot, which indeed looked like the foot of some enormous old man. This further piqued our curiosity of this famed Old Man. There was also a sign there that said that Samuel Eastman called the place “fit for the ablutions of a Goddess.” All we know is that this goddess would have to be Freya or some other frigid Norse goddess, because it was FREAKING COLD there.

A lot of photos and jokes later, and we were back on the highway toward the Old Man's supposed location. After stopping for the Flume and the Basin, we could hardly pass up Boise Rock though, right? Especially when we were so far from Boise! Boise rock is actually not terribly interesting, It's just a big rock, named for a guy who used it for shelter in a bad snowstorm. Incidentally, in order to avoid freezing to death, the man (possibly inspired by Luke Skywalker and his tauntaun) was forced to kill his horse and crawl inside it for warmth. It's a short stop though, so it won't hurt to see it. It's kind of pretty, for a rock. Again, after several photos and jokes, we were back on the road to see the Old Man, to seek his wisdom.

We finally got to the right exit, parked, and walked toward the Old Man of the Mountain, stopping at each sign in our path to take in the full experience and learn all we could about this influential man. We got to the end of the path, and kept reading all about the Old Man, and finally looked up . . . and there was no Old Man of the Mountain. There was something that could have been a nose sticking out of a cliff face, but nothing that looked anything like the famous profile we had been seeing everywhere in New Hampshire. How does a face in the rock simply disappear? There was only one possible explanation - murder most foul. But who can murder a man, even an old one, made of stone? The answer, my friends, is that most fiendish of villains, Erosion. I would also have accepted God.

As if this murder wasn't enough, we discovered to our dismay that not only had the Old Man been murdered, but he had lain dead for FOUR YEARS. The Old Man was done in in 2003, but as Onaxthiel says, “Apparently the New Hampshirites are less willing to let go of the past than the southerners.” That would explain why the landmark that fell down four years ago is still the only thing noteworthy enough to put on their quarter, roadsigns, and countless other things. To help out New Hampshire, we quickly conceived of an ambitious plan to rebuild the fabled Old Man. Bigger. Faster. Stronger. Better. And breathing fire. We have the technology. The governor of New Hampshire wouldn't return our calls though, so we gave up.

We returned to The Flume, and were annoyed to find that to see it would cost us $10 each. After much hemming and hawing, we reluctantly agreed to the extortionist's toll and hiked into the Flume area. I'm fairly happy we did, as the Flume turned out to be very pretty. Unfortunately, just like everything in the Notch, the Flume was wedged between two mountains. The Flume itself is also basically a narrow little gully through which water flows, and with high rock walls on each side. In other words, the lighting was poor and so I fear most of the pictures didn't turn out well. Water cascading down through the Flume was really loud, and it was definitely worth the hike, and probably at least 5 of the $10 fee. Later on the same path we got to see Liberty Falls and The Pool, which probably covered the other $5. The pool is exactly what it sounds like, but it's deep and with lovely turquoise water. It has high rock walls on all sides, except for the water flowing into and out of it. It looked like it would be fun to jump into, but there were lots of signs saying not to.

We drove on, intending to see more falls and cascades and so forth in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. That's when our rear passenger tire blew out. It was good that Onaxthiel realized something wasn't right quickly, and stopped. There wasn't any sort of loss of control or anything, I suppose since it was a rear tire, and so it wasn't clear that that was the problem until we inspected the outside of the car. Of course, we had to unpack everything in the trunk to get to the spare tire, but we got that on in fairly short order. We took a look at the flat, and found that there was a large nail or something through it in one spot, and at least one other hole in it that we could find. Nevertheless, we stowed it in the trunk, in case it was reparable.

The nearest town we knew would have adequate facilities was Littleton, which was in the wrong direction for what we wanted, but we were in no mood to press on with a donut for a wheel. Littleton it turns out, is a really pretty town with all kinds of neat old buildings. We made mental notes of a few to check out, and went to a VIP, which is some kind of east coast auto place. They checked out the tire and the other three, and one new tire and an oil change (we were about due anyway) later, we were on our way again.

The Littleton cemetery had some neat memorials, including one to servicemen featuring a statue of what we think was Joan of Arc. The post office was also very lovely, and across the street from a hotel that we were informed Lincoln had once stayed at. Later, we also checked out a Catholic church that was all closed up (and might have been for sale) and was constructed entirely of field stones and with a slate roof. It was really pretty.

We drove on and tried to see the things we had been intending to see in the White Mountains, but we couldn't find most of them. Either Rand McNally got the names wrong in the atlas, or they were poorly marked, but in short, we didn't make many stops for them. It was getting dark, and we were expecting it to start raining soon, so we decided that since it was a Friday night anyway, we'd press on to Portland, Maine and get a motel for the night.

Portland is the largest city in Maine, and by population, is only about the size of Oshkosh. Still, it was a pretty city to drive around in at night, and after we checked into a Motel 6 (which is staffed by lying thieves, I might add), we headed back downtown to see what the nightlife was like. We snagged some dinner at a nice bar (Onaxthiel adds: Maine apparently microbrews some awesome ales, which I have been enjoying throughout the state), and then walked around looking for a good bar to spend some time at. The Asylum Sports Bar turned out to be having quite the costume party, and was a pleasant enough place to pass some time, with many attractive costumed ladies and some pretty sweet costumes in general, including a lava lamp dude and some guy in an odd costume involving some serious stilts.

Onaxthiel's Lessons Learned: Bring a camera to the clubs on Halloween weekend. Always ask for a direct yes or no answer to the question “Do you have internet access in your rooms?” That way you'll feel more justified in punching lying thieves later in the night. Fill up on gas in New Hampshire or Vermont, but not Maine. Maine must have higher gas taxes, if the prices are an indicator.

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Photos

We had no horse, but gortex is pretty warm.
Boise Rock

Old Man - Oh wait, no. He
Google Image Search for him, and you'll easily find what he used to look like.

This is the 93 year old lady who discovered the Flume.
At first, no one believed her. Apparently she can fly though, so it seems stupid not to.

Avalanche Falls
They're at the top of the Flume.

Entrance to the Wolve's Den
Can you see the wolf?

Sometimes, when a mommy rock and a daddy rock love each other very much . . .
they spawn trees.

Conflict of Interest
This is right across the street from a cemetery. Since you probably can't read the joke in the small pictures, check out the next two.

Comments

[Jesse]

Oh Franconia
Thanks for bringing back all of the memories. As a Boy Scout I spent many a camping trip at Franconia!