While not always advisable, finding areas of personal ignorance and subsequently barging blindly into them, can be a pleasant surprise; or a disaster. New Hampshire was that first adjective.
Forested hills that actually rose into peaks towered over little hamlets made up of outfitters, antique shops, and bed and breakfasts. Everything felt small yet well groomed, country without being backward. It made me want to go skiing… or maybe kayaking.
I am still not quite sure what the allure is, why they were once so popular, and still I found myself making numerous detours when the little signs with arrows told me where the next covered bridge was to be found.
But hands down, the best thing about New Hampshire; better than the peace of the pines and the friendly towns, was these signs.