Nick Joniec

Ignore the mini stop signs, just keep going. You are going the right way when you pass a waterfall on the shoulder. Drive the Cat 6 roads at your own risk, what? My wife and I were on the way to Rumney, New Hampshire at the end of July. The New England countryside was foreign to me and it was becoming obvious I never traveled north of PA.

We were visiting for the weekend. My father-in-law’s mother passed away in March, but the ground had to thaw before she could be buried so there we were. Steph and I were planning to visit the family property soon since her brother might move south in the next few years. Without another reason to make the trek, I probably wouldn’t get to see where her dad and brothers grew up if we didn't go now.

Being car enthusiasts, we debated making the trip in our Miata. The thought of driving up the coast through scenic New England sounded enticing. Rationalizing it, any 8-hour road trip sucks but it would especially suck in the ND. It better be something special like driving the Tail of the Dragon (on our bucket list) to commit to being uncomfortable for that long. We ruled it out quickly. Instead we took Amtrak into Boston and would drive something fun for remainder of the weekend. Checking Turo showed many sporty cars in the area so I was excited.

It was also my first time taking a train. We rode the Keystone service from Lancaster into Philly's 30th Street Station. Taking the Acela Express was roughly an hour shorter so we opted for it. The far end of the Northeast Corridor allows the Acela to reach top speed and you bet I clocked it on my phone too. The ability to relax and read or play games on the train was alone worth it and I’d do it again. The only hairy part was our train transfer being less than five minutes on the way up.

I was frustrated to find out our Turo didn’t meet us at Boston's South Station as we agreed on, days in advance. Luckily, my in-laws rented a car also so they were able to drop us off at ours. The two of us wanted to explore sans tether so we opted for our own car. The gearhead I am, picking our wheels from the list of sporty and exotic cars available in Boston took some hemming and hawing. I got us a 2016 Porsche Cayman “Black Edition” for the weekend. Chose it for one specific reason—being the last model year with a naturally-aspirated flat-six engine. The 718 Cayman that replaced the 981 has a turbo flat-four. A chance to hear the distinct Porsche howl coming from the flat-six behind me was worth it. Not the 911 I want to drive some time, but it was still a hoot.

We stopped at Warren Tavern for dinner before hitting the road. A quick stop to Best Buy for a phone mount (ugh no CarPlay) and then we set out on two hour drive to Rumney. Liz (Steph’s mom) booked a four bedroom cabin rental for us to share. At this point, I was complaining how the sights and roadways weren’t much different than Pennsylvania. Everyone told me how different it was up here and I wasn't buying it.

My sarcasm was short lived as the highways I took for granted dropped off into unmarked, rough roads. You could draw a line on the ground dividing the two. Unpaved and pothole filled, basically gravel. I found out later than night roads like that are classified Category VI, meaning no maintenance or service from the state or any municipality. It's starting to make sense—live free or die, abandoned roads. Not sure which of us was driving at this point, but I was starting to worry the Cayman was going to bottom out and get stuck. Sketchy roads and ride height wasn't a thought when picking the car.

Nothing but trees around us now, the fabled ‘blinking red light’ intersections made their debut. Reminiscent of Disney Pixar’s Cars with the sole traffic light in town. We didn’t confirm if the third blink really was slower. The woods got more dense as we approached our destination. Cell reception was very spotty. Our cabin host warned us not to rely on maps apps exact address of the property, so as dark fell finding our stay was becoming worrisome. I recall our confusion and laughter as we came across the smallest stop sign ever on a tree in the middle of nowhere. They are actually for snowmobiles and other small off-roaders but we were dumb tourists. Trails wind through folks land free-for-all potentially as a necessity with the deep snowfall that makes roads impassible up there.

To be honest, when I heard the word 'cabin' I wasn't thriled. It's not my idea of lodging but I truly did not know what to expect. Our cabin was clearly another family's home away from home. You could comfortably sleep probably twelve people. Full amenities: wraparound porch, full kitchen, multiple bathrooms, air conditioning, and a garage. If so inclined, you could enjoy a shower in nature with the outdoor stall. I couldn’t have been more wrong; I would stay in a cabin like that again. The house was kitted out with most of the homegoods you would need for a while and the decor was woodsy and welcoming. Everyone around the table chatting and playing games was nice to wind out the day. We took an upstair bedroom which had a hilariously sloped ceiling as one of the walls. Steph is short and this roof made her tall.

Our own adventure was planned for Saturday. It was supposed to start with breakfast at a famous pancake house but of the two we tried both had over an hour wait. We ended up in Littleton at a little hole in the wall, The Coffee Pot. Their menu tells their 40+ year story on the back and the food was great. Small town living, all the shops in a literal row like Main Street, USA, in the movies. No longer hungry, our first stop was the Mount Washington Auto Road. The eight mile road sidewinders Mount Washington, the highest summit in the Northeast US at 4000 feet. As you precariously follow the edge of the drop-off and dodge two-way traffic, you cross four distinct ecological zones. Temperature drastically drops as you climb; our car showed 87F at the base and 59F at the top. The summit observatory holds the coldest wind chill ever recorded at -108F and the highest observed wind speed of 231 miles per hour. The sights were truly breathtaking as were the steps to the top. Steph drove up and I down, trading the driver seat for the camera. We earned our commemorative ‘This car climbed Mt. Washington’ badge but it probably wasn’t the first or last time our car made it.

If you haven’t caught on by now, my wife and I like driving. Steph is a hardcore travel planner and she researched the best driving roads in NH. We followed the 35 mile Kancamagus Highway that cuts through the White Mountain National Forest. Bask in the natural aesthetic and be sure to stop along the scenic areas along the way. Built in 1858, the Albany Covered Bridge still carries vehicle traffic across the Swift River today. Rocky Gorge Lower Falls was carved out by glaciers and even though its drop is relatively shallow at 15 feet, it leads to six miles of the wildest whitewater rivers in New England. Sabbaday Falls is one of the most picturesque waterfalls in the region, its multiple tiers drop a total of 35 feet. If you plan to visit, be sure to have cash on hand to grab a day parking pass at a ranger station.

We met back up with the family at Foster’s Boiler Room in Plymouth for dinner. I never understood chicken and a waffle, but I tried their spin on it and enjoyed it. A belgian waffle and buttermilk fried chicken topped with a chipotle maple syrup.

Sunday morning the service was held at the town church. It was back to Boston and board Amtrak a few hours later so we didn’t linger and mingle. We made a short stop in Salem, NH at Peach Tree Farms for ice cream and got to visit their chickens and goats. Our Turo return went without a hitch and our return trains were on time. I’ll definitely use Turo again and travel by rail given the chance if it makes sense.