Memories of Father’s Day in New Hampshire’s White Mountains

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Kathy Horowitz facilitates a monthly women’s writer’s group at the Life Center in Huntington.  Her work has appeared in The Long Islander, Long Island Woman, Calyx, Blue Unicorn, and 
energyofnewlight.com.  She recently self-published her first collection of poems available at Huntington’s Book Revue.  Kathy offers freelance editing, writing, and proofreading (kahorowitz@gmail.com)
www.kathyhorowitz.com

For as long as I can remember, our family would load up into the car— an old Plymouth Valiant—and make our annual pilgrimage to the White Mountains of New Hampshire (www.visitwhitemountains.com).  Riding in the back seat with my sister, we’d play the license plate game to see how many different states we could find.  Nature is my solace and for me there is no more beautiful place than New Hampshire with its granite mountains (remember the “Old Man of the Mountain,” Great Stone Face, which collapsed in May of 2003 in Franconia Notch) and its many rivers and rivulets:  the Pemigewasset (called “Pemi” by the locals), the Gale.
    My parents used to rent a small bungalow along the Ammonoosuc River in Bethlehem in the shadows of Mount Washington, highest peak in the northeast (6,289’).  As young children, my father would take us fishing—I don’t remember ever catching anything remotely resembling a fish—but it was the fact that we were together away from the craziness of his Manhattan workplace and our home on Long Island taking respite in nature’s bounty.  We’d hike along the river and often swim at the falls by the Swift Water covered bridge.  We’d scramble over the moss-laden rocks, have a leisurely lunch along its waters, and soak it all in.
    During the day we’d drive south to Lincoln to Clark’s Trading Post where trained black bears gave daily shows and then head over to Loon Mountain where we’d ride the gondola for breathtaking views.  Or we’d drive further north to Story Land in Glen (touted as best kids amusement park) and Six Gun City in Jefferson.  Other days we’d drive into North Conway (shopping outlets) in Washington Valley to ride the Conway Scenic Railroad and then drive back at dusk along the one-laned Kancamagus Highway to look for moose along the river.
    After dinner we’d head to the town of Bath for homemade ice cream and walk through the historic Bath covered bridge.  Back at the bungalow, he’d build a fire in the tiny fireplace—oftentimes smoking us out—and we’d go outside to catch fireflies in mason jars and later let them go like stars into the night.  
    However you choose to honor your dad this Father’s Day, it’s always nice to reminisce about back-in-the-day memories and, if you’re fortunate enough, take Dad to revisit his favorite family vacation spot.  Happy Father’s Day to you, Dad, and all the dads who make vacation days a little bit more adventurous than most.