Last weekend my boyfriend and I ended up meandering up North. We stopped in Lincoln briefly before hitting 93 North again, headed towards Franconia Notch. I have always found it funny how people view northern New Hampshire. So many people “From Away” come to Lincoln. For many more their journeys ends there in what they think is the edge of the wilderness. In truth this is only where the North Country begins. I grew up spending Summers deep in the White Mountain National Forrest. I skittered over rocks and gazed up at the stars. I appreciate Lincoln, but know that this region has much more to offer.
We head North and ended up at The Basin. A bustling tourist attraction in the Summer and Fall it sat silent. Snowflakes falling silently around us, the first signs of an impending storm. We suite up, putting layer over layer to shield us from the cold. We turned away from the truck, making our journey in down a beaten pathway in the snow.
It is quiet. We walk down the trail, following the rises and falls of the land. I watch as the snow falls all around us. Its settles into the pure white blanket that covers the Forrest around it. Only once do we see others and for this I am thankful. I am a quiet person and oftentimes I find that more in common with the landscape around me than the people who inhabit it.
It has never been the Basin that has captivated my attention. I love standing by the big worn out rock formation, but to me it is only part of the greater story. I love the pathway that weaves in between the quiet trees. The way the rivers switches this way and that, never staying in the same place. I gaze at the trees noticing the way the snow and ice cling to them. For me it is the all enveloping quiet that brings me a level of peace that is so hard to find.
For me it is the living proof that life is not about the destination, it is the journey.