In a recent column, Dani Brune reflected on "how to become a Yankee in ten easy lessons." Based on experience traveling the scenic byways of New Hampshire and Vermont with the cycling team, I would like to add half a dozen of my own. These bits of wisdom were gleaned from many hours lost on primitive dirt roads after dark, usually in pouring rain or blowing snow.
1) Say "ayup" and "eh" all the time. "Ayup" means "yes," and "eh" is Canadian for "huh." A typical exchange involves me, having lost my sense of direction, querying an elderly farmer over the din of his tractor whether a certain road leads to Norwich. His puzzled reply: "Eh?" I repeat my question and am rewarded with a hearty "Ayup." These are the true staples of North Country communication.
2) Drive a snow car. I have seen only three kinds of cars in rural Vermont and New Hampshire (aside from those up on cinder blocks): Saabs, Jeep Cherokees and Subaru 4-Wheel-Drive station wagons. Whether these vehicles actually perform better in inclement weather, or they are the only dealerships in the area, I have no idea. Look around Hanover. Vestiges of this phenomenon can even be seen in town.
3) Hurl your snow car down dirt roads at breakneck speeds. Local drivers know each twist and turn by heart and seem to assume that no other human being will be so far out in the sticks. It's rather disconcerting to be spinning along listening to the birds, and suddenly feel like a caterpillar in the middle of the New Jersey Turnpike. Speaking of turnpikes, it seems that these dirt paths which pass for roads are often referred to as "turnpikes." Where I come from, a turnpike is a daunting field of asphalt with guardrails and traffic signs. An Upper Valley turnpike boasts none of these, but provides neat exposure to "the other side" of the driving experience. Try the New Boston Turnpike from Norwich or the Wolfeboro Turnpike from Hanover Center.
4) Display a "Brake for Moose" bumper sticker prominently on your snow car. Several thousand miles on the backroads of Northern New England and I have yet to see a moose, though I'm sure they abound. Fast dogs, angry geese, raccoons, possums, and a potentially painful incident with a porcupine, but no moose. While on the subject of bumper stickers, don't even consider a "This Car Climbed Mt. Washington." They practically scream flatlander (slightly derogatory term for people unfortunate enough to be from Massachusetts or southward). "Brake for Moose" Saabs have Vermont plates, but "This Car Climbed Mt. Washington" minivans hail from Ohio and North Carolina.
5) Wear blaze orange. One pastoral weekend in November, I was cruising along a nice "turnpike" near Barnard, Vermont when a car came down the road with a deer tied to the roof, splayed hooves hanging over the edge, head rolling with the bumps. No lie. On the same ride I passed three different men wielding bows. And there I was with an immaculately clean helmet looking very much like a frightened whitetail on the run. Not smart.
6) Shop at Dan and Whit's. My first exposure to this emporium of wonders came when I bought my blaze orange. I found myself talking with a fellow out on the road one day, and noticed his really fine pair of work gloves. When I asked where he got them, he told me about the general store in Norwich that stocks everything. He was right. Post-hole diggers or cheddar cheese, the place brims with useful and oddball items to fill your every need.
Keep these observations in mind, and enjoy the granite of New Hampshire in your muscles and your brain. For scenic beauty and local flavor, this area cannot be beat. Revel in it, and be thankful you're not in Cambridge or New Haven.
