In 1913, Henry Ford began using the assembly line to produce affordable automobiles. This invention, combined with Eisenhower’s Highway Act of 1956, has transformed the face of the nation. Sprawl, the term that denotes man’s ever increasing ability to travel long distances to get to work in the big city, spawns along major arteries into and out of cities and towns. Coupled with the engrained American dream of land ownership and man’s universal need for contact with the soothing touch and sound of water, land on and around bodies of water are being gobbled up like Thanksgiving dinner. The uninformed might conclude that pristine, remote locations have completely disappeared from the American landscape. Part of me wants to perpetuate that myth to keep my personal sanctuary intact. However, I now recognize that deceit is not required. This land is part of the White Mountain National Forest, and will be protected (at least from developers) for eternity. And since there are no catchy fliers or brochures at New Hampshire rest areas acknowledging my hidden corner of the world, I feel as though I can rest assured that the masses will remain far away. Sadly though, the main reason why I have nothing to fear is that most Americans are lazy, and the concept of going someplace to walk around, explore, and “rough” it is totally undesirable.
If you see yourself as different from the common American, inertus ignoramus, and actually enjoy the thought of spending time out of doors, continue reading.
The Old Charleston Road won’t be found in any road map or atlas; nor will you find it listed under any hiking trail. I’ve heard it receives a decent amount of snowmobile traffic in the winter, so maybe it’s labeled in a snowmobile guidebook. On topographical maps it’s labeled “Jeep Trail.” But to the initiated it’s known as the Old Charleston Road. The name derives from the small farming community that clawed out an existence just northeast of Lake Tarleton in the early 1800’s. The few farming families were able to overcome the harsh winters, rocky soil, and hilly terrain to make ends meet. Their true demise was their isolation; in particular their distance from the nearest railroad station. Their inability to get crops to the tracks in a timely and cost efficient manner meant they couldn’t compete with the larger farms from more hospitable regions. Now all that remains of Charleston are the stone walls that mark property lines, a couple apple orchards, a couple cellars, and one graveyard. In a story that runs counter to the trends in America (though parallel to New Hampshire trends) the forests have won back the land.
The Old Charleston Road is a dirt road that loops around the eastern side of Lake Tarleton (the largest lake in the White Mountains), though too deep inland to get a glimpse of the lake. Although the entire circuit can be hiked, it is not advised (part of the trail runs under huge power lines while other parts can be confusing). Most of the points of interest are on the northwest side. Start on the western side, where the Eastman Brook passes underneath 25C- look for the E-2 sign.
Although the Old Charleston Road is a charming walk in the woods, it in and of itself does not provide surreal experiences. Those, however, can be found with relative ease on “side trails.” I delineate “side trails” because these paths have not been officially maintained since the days of the Lake Tarleton Club. I love the fact that the trails are unkempt (don’t get me wrong- I also love well-manicured trails with identifiable and consistent trail markers and a nice sign with mileage at the trailhead). Forays off the beaten track provide totally unique experiences. Gone are the safeguards we’ve grown accustomed to- you are now in unchartered waters. And although you’re confident that many people, probably hundreds, have done the very same hike, you’re mind intuitively asks, “But how long ago did the last hiker traipse along this path?” Oftentimes you are uncertain where your meanderings might take you; this breeds a dichotomy of emotions- surface level anxiety, and deep seeded pleasure as your innate desires to be a frontiersman and explorer are finally realized.
If you see yourself as different from the common American, inertus ignoramus, and actually enjoy the thought of spending time out of doors, continue reading.
The Old Charleston Road won’t be found in any road map or atlas; nor will you find it listed under any hiking trail. I’ve heard it receives a decent amount of snowmobile traffic in the winter, so maybe it’s labeled in a snowmobile guidebook. On topographical maps it’s labeled “Jeep Trail.” But to the initiated it’s known as the Old Charleston Road. The name derives from the small farming community that clawed out an existence just northeast of Lake Tarleton in the early 1800’s. The few farming families were able to overcome the harsh winters, rocky soil, and hilly terrain to make ends meet. Their true demise was their isolation; in particular their distance from the nearest railroad station. Their inability to get crops to the tracks in a timely and cost efficient manner meant they couldn’t compete with the larger farms from more hospitable regions. Now all that remains of Charleston are the stone walls that mark property lines, a couple apple orchards, a couple cellars, and one graveyard. In a story that runs counter to the trends in America (though parallel to New Hampshire trends) the forests have won back the land.
The Old Charleston Road is a dirt road that loops around the eastern side of Lake Tarleton (the largest lake in the White Mountains), though too deep inland to get a glimpse of the lake. Although the entire circuit can be hiked, it is not advised (part of the trail runs under huge power lines while other parts can be confusing). Most of the points of interest are on the northwest side. Start on the western side, where the Eastman Brook passes underneath 25C- look for the E-2 sign.
Although the Old Charleston Road is a charming walk in the woods, it in and of itself does not provide surreal experiences. Those, however, can be found with relative ease on “side trails.” I delineate “side trails” because these paths have not been officially maintained since the days of the Lake Tarleton Club. I love the fact that the trails are unkempt (don’t get me wrong- I also love well-manicured trails with identifiable and consistent trail markers and a nice sign with mileage at the trailhead). Forays off the beaten track provide totally unique experiences. Gone are the safeguards we’ve grown accustomed to- you are now in unchartered waters. And although you’re confident that many people, probably hundreds, have done the very same hike, you’re mind intuitively asks, “But how long ago did the last hiker traipse along this path?” Oftentimes you are uncertain where your meanderings might take you; this breeds a dichotomy of emotions- surface level anxiety, and deep seeded pleasure as your innate desires to be a frontiersman and explorer are finally realized.
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