Toads Go East - Day 10

Through the White Mountains National Park, New Hampshire

Monday.

It was Toads Go North today as we made our way from Massachusetts through New Hampshire, Vermont and back into Canada to the province of Quebec. 

Another slick pack up and hitch had us on the road at nine-thirty, which was early for us but not necessarily early enough given that we had over 700 Kms to drive. The trouble was that we didn't want to get snared in Boston's commuter traffic and, even selecting a route that described a very broad arc well west of Boston, we didn't want to lose any advantage we might have gained from an earlier start. We appeared to have made the right choice, too, as we made great progress along the I495, even though this western diversion added a fair distance to the trip. We spurned the Satnav's advice to plunge into Boston and again when we needed to strike north, avoiding the town of Nashua and going directly to the I93, the highway that would take us almost all the way to the Canadian border. That latter decision may have been a bit of a mistake. 

As we crossed into New Hampshire we stopped at a rest area that had one of those excellent tourist information centres to pick up a map. The helpful lady there offered a selection of maps of New Hampshire, all free I have to say, but I didn't see one for Vermont, the next state along. She delved down behind her counter and produced a Vermont map, as if it were some kind of subversive literature; I half expected her to put it in a brown paper bag! The bad news was that new Hampshire has no motorway service centres at all, just the occasional rest stop with no gas, no proper food but with honking great State Liquor Stores, just in case you need a beer and a smoke as you drive north. That's useful, I thought.

As we left the rest area, we joined the back of another four lane crawl into some road works. Four lanes went to two and one of those was clogged where people were leaving the highway to go into Salem; not the witch one this time. I was already a bit against New Hampshire as their State slogan is "Live Free Or Die", which is a nice sentiment don't you think? It adorns all their car licence plates and was on a big billboard as we crossed the state line and the irony is that the New Hampshire-ites didn't seem particularly free. In the couple of hours we spent there, we saw more Police on the roads than in the entire previous week in the US; if that's freedom then they can keep it. Anyway, their curious freedom, lack of service centres, Liquor stores everywhere and traffic jams all combined to make me think that this wasn't my kind of State.

Back on the road and moving freely now, we were in a steady climb into the Appalachian Mountains again. It wasn't steep but the gas mileage was bobbling about 20 litres per 100 Km, which was well up on all our previous travelling days. We passed Manchester, which was a tad leafier than the one I know, then Concord, or "Concurd" as the Satnav lady called it, New Hampshire's capital. I thought Concord was famous for something or other but apart from it being the State capital, Wikipedia doesn't say much else. Perhaps there's another Concord somewhere else that is more famous.

We could see the peaks of the White Mountains National Park in the distance as we motored north on, thank goodness, ever quietening roads. We stopped at one of the Liquor Store rest areas for lunch (sandwiches in the caravan) and the New Hampshire types managed to upset me some more by parking their cars in the trailer and truck parking slots, forcing some of the trailers to park along the fence and severely restrict the movement of bigger vehicles. Grrrrr. You get like this when you have a trailer to tow.

We later pulled off the highway to get gas and we were right of the edge of the mountains in the town of Campton. It's not too much of an inconvenience to pull off into a local town to get gas and I suppose it brings people in to spend their money in the shops and restaurants, but with the Airstream in tow, you have select your gas stations carefully as they don't always allow enough room to get in and out. I think crashing caravan panels against gas station bollards is one of the most common trailer prangs.

Then we were entering the National Park. The road narrowed to a single lane and the speed limit was down to 45 mph, but what with the uphill gradients and the stunning views, it was necessary to take it easy through there. These mountains are not Alp-like, but they are some of the highest points of the ancient Appalachian range and were most impressive as we drove through Franconia Notch, the pass that allowed the road northwards. I know from reading Bill Bryson that a notch is the New England term for a mountain pass and it was nice to be doing some notching, all be it in New Hampshire; Grrrr. The peaks are tree covered but have some areas cleared for skiing, this being the playground of the Eastern rich, but you'll not catch me barreling down those slopes because they were steep, with a capital 'S'.

We passed through the notch, down the hill on the other side and made our way to Vermont. Now Vermont's slogan is "The Green State", which it definitely is, but I'd call it "The Tidy State", because it certainly was that, too. Mrs T remarked on how "Alp-ish" is was with all the farms cut out of the wooded hillsides; Alpine might have been a better term but I liked "Alp-ish". The I93 terminated just inside Vermont and we joined the I91, John F Kennedy International Highway, on our way to Canada. Mrs T speculated as to whether or not the road was internationally funded because apart from going to Canada, there wasn't much reason to have such a swish highway in rural Vermont. 

All of a sudden we were at the border and saying Bonjour and Hello to the nice man in the Kiosk. It only took about 15 minutes to get through (please note, US border people) and we were making our way through southern Quebec towards Sherbrooke and Drummondville. Quebec is the home of the Francophone and Quebecers cherish their language and their culture greatly. They have not only the Canadian Anglophones to deal with but they border the US and it's from there that the bulk of the cultural pressure comes from, I think. The roads do look a bit like those in France and the signs are all resolutely in French, with no concession at all to English, but it still looked like the US with the houses and cars all the same. I have no doubt that they watch American TV, too.

We continued north to Drummondville, then north-east towards Quebec City, our eventual destination. We came off the highway at Drummondville for more gas, where I inexpertly fended off the compliments of a young lady who was admiring the Airstream. I hauled out my best schoolboy French and she replied in perfect English; We Brits are just hopeless at languages and I always feel worse than useless when people just slip effortlessly between languages.

Some ten hours after setting off, we arrived at the KOA Quebec City, 720 Kms (at 19.8 litres per 100 kilometres) with very few breaks and I was knackered; that's what happens when you don't get that early start. We'd just driven through a monster thunderstorm and discovered that our two full days in Quebec were going to be rain-strewn, which was nice. We were directed to our upgraded site (we'd ordered an upgraded site originally, agreed to change to a lesser site to help the KOA management then been given the upgraded site anyway) and drove straight in, this being the first pull-through of the trip. The campground is small-ish but boy, they've shoe-horned a lot of trailers in - I'll write a bit more about the place tomorrow. Our pitch is on a corner right where people drive in, so I can see it being a little noisy. Still, it has a patio, is level and has enough room for the car, so it'll be fine.

The people here are very friendly and again I had to exercise my schoolboy French. Most of the Quebecers here can speak some English and they don't mind doing it, either, particularly if you have a go at some French. I did meet a couple from Ontario who have an Airstream so I shall be going to have a nosy at their trailer in the next two days.

Mrs T prepared our new favourite camping meal, Tuna Gloop (just tinned tuna mixed with condensed mushroom soup and crushed up crisps, heated and served on five minute rice) and we all settled down to try the site's free wifi. Despite my insistence that I was going to stay up and enjoy the evening, I fell asleep in seconds on the sofa, cell phone on my chest where I dropped it. I did clamber onto my bed and slept whilst everyone else made ready for their beds and after an hour or so fell into the bathroom before hitting the sack properly. 

Tuesday promises rain and, I think, a driving tour for us. I'm quite intrigued about this KOA so will report back in the next thrilling installment of The Toads Go East.