For about fifteen years in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, Sally and I drove between Oregon and New Hampshire almost annually. We have  lived in Gresham, Oregon, since 1981 but, as often as we could, we spent  some time in the spring until some time in the fall at an off-the-grid cabin in far northern New Hampshire. 

   It was a long way to drive twice a year - over 3000 miles - but plane and train weren’t options because we needed to take six months of supplies with us; we needed a 4-wheel drive vehicle once we got to “Camp;” and most of the time we were traveling with a cat (not welcome on public transportation). To make the trips more interesting, we varied our routes to visit some specific locations we wanted to see, or just to visit “new country.” Sometimes, in spring and fall, the weather also dictated where we went, as we dodged thunderstorms and tornadoes (in the spring) and hurricanes and snowstorms (in the fall).

  Details of our times in New Hampshire are covered in our “North Country Journal.” However, those essays don’t tell much about how we arrived or how we left. En route was often interesting for its own sake. From my journal, I’ve pulled out some of the more memorable events along the way, and present them in this series of essays.

Sandy Wilbur - May 2021

To the Writing It Down Homepage

Leave a Comment: symbios@condortales.com

© Sanford Wilbur 2021