My husband Leo and I went charging off to Dixville Notch in northern New Hampshire to stay at the venerable Balsams Resort Hotel for several days. As soon as we left Boston, tooteling along I-93, we were amazed by the pageant of glory radiating from the trees lining the interstate highway. Fortunately the weather was glorious and the sunshine smiled on us all the way along our two-day trek. The direct ride to the Balsams is a good six -hour drive, so we like to break it up.

We stopped halfway up in the White Mountains at Woodward’s Resort, a pleasant roadside motel near the “Flume.” The Flume is one of our favorite nature spots where waterfalls spill down steep rock gorges in a spectacular forest. Woodward’s was reasonably priced, comfortable and actually boasted an indoor pool with relaxing Jacuzzi, out door tennis courts and a full dining room, serving good food. In the grounds of the resort there is a delightful duck pond shaded by towering pine trees. On the bank of the pond, near a rustic gazebo a beautiful hydrangea tree was still in bloom with clouds of cream colored blossoms all tinged by pink blush.

Leo and I are easily diverted while driving in New England. We lived in Vermont for ten years creating and running our inn and restaurant, The White House. We are familiar with northern New England and have many favorite places that tug at our memories begging to be revisited. One of these places is Guildhall, Vermont, which is a small town conveniently nestled across the Connecticut River from Northumberland, New Hampshire off Route 3. We bopped over for a look see.


This is a view of the public library and Masonic Temple at Guildhall, Vermont, way up in the Northeast Kingdom. We made a detour to revisit this remote village remembering coming across the place of Brigadoon-like magic many years ago when we lived in Kents’ Corner and loved to go “back roading” and explore the countryside.

This time we were delighted to see that the building had been beautifully restored to its historic intention with a Vermont slate roof, gilded cupola and a sparkling new paint job.

The library and Masonic Hall was built in 1901 by Everett Chamberlin Benton a native of Guildhall and designed by Gay and Proctor of Boston. It is a Neo-Georgian style building with a handsome clock mounted in its cupola. A semicircular Ionic portico with bronze cresting along the roof edge marks the entrance. The entry way has a fanlight above the door which is flanked by Corinthian pilasters. There are several grand stained glass windows upstairs in the Masonic Hall and also in the library on the ground floor.

Unfortunately the building was closed when we visited, but I peeked in the windows and the interior of the library appears to be preserved in its original state and was as neat as a pin. The shelves were full of books with videos and computer stations alongside a cozy looking fireplace. This place is my idea of heaven, a comfortable library in the country. I would love to see the interior of the Masonic Hall upstairs.


The Guildhall United Church (1844) and Essex County Court House (1851) flank another side of the town common contrasting crisply against the vibrant blue sky. After a brief morning visit we recrossed the Connecticut River back to New Hampshire and continued our jaunt towards the Balsams.


This is a view of the Presidential Range of the White Mountains in New Hampshire from Mount Prospect. Leo spotted a stone tower rising from the foliage atop a mountain while we were driving along route 3 in Lancaster. He knows my great love for stone towers and pointed it out. Just around the bend we were surprised and gratified to discover the entrance to the John W. Weeks National Park and Observatory Tower. We entered a field-stone gate and followed the single lane paved road, climbing Mount Prospect to the summit.


John Wingate Weeks was a native of Lancaster and became a leading conservationist, U.S. Congressman, U.S. Senator, and Secretary of War under Presidents Harding and Coolidge. Mr. Weeks built his stone tower and lodge in 1911. The view from the top of the tower enjoys a 360-degree panorama of mountain splendor that includes the Presidential Range of the White Mountains, the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Kilkenny Range, the Percy Peaks and the upper Connecticut River Valley.


Weeks is best known for his efforts in establishing the eastern national forest system. In the early 1900s all the forest lands in the eastern half of the United States were privately owned, and many were in poor condition. There were no national forests in the east, and the government was not empowered to purchase private lands. Congress finally passed the Appalachian-White Mountains Forest Reservation Bill in 1911, largely due to the efforts of Representative Weeks. The "Weeks Law" authorized the federal government to purchase lands to be "permanently reserved, held and administered as national forest lands, for the protection, development and use of their natural resources."


In Colebrook, New Hampshire, you hang a right off of Route 3 onto Route 26 following the Mohawk River as it meanders towards Dixville. Around one more twist in the road, where the mountains begin to crowd around, you come across Lake Gloriette where The Balsams Hotel is nestled at the base of precipitous cliffs that form Abeniki Mountain. The original summer inn opened in 1866 as a 25-room establishment called, The Dix House honoring the town’s American Revolutionary hero, Colonel Timothy Dix. The second owner (1895) was Henry S. Hale, a wealthy Philadelphian. It was Hale who renamed the hotel, The Balsams.


Hale built this impressive addition to his hotel in 1911. At that time it was the first steel framed, concrete building in New Hampshire. The intention of this innovative mode of construction was to prevent fire which was a serious concern in an era of wooden construction. The addition increased the overall size of his hotel to its current 400 rooms. This is one of the “tower” components that crown the new wing officially named, The Hampshire House. In the background the cliffs of Abeniki Mountain rise above the hotel.


Since 1960 Dixville Notch, with a population of roughly 26 people, has been the first town in the nation to report the results of its Presidential election balloting. In order to maintain this honorary status, every single registered voter in Dixville Notch must turn out and vote. Just before midnight the day before the election, these voters come to The Balsams and take a headcount to ensure everyone is present. When the polls officially open at the stroke of midnight, each voter heads to a booth in the Ballot Room and casts his or her vote. The entire process takes about a minute. In the far left of the picture you can see an example of one of the voting booths draped with Old Glory.


Captain Doudera was a fashionable sportsman with a passion for hunting, fishing and he was also an avid polo player. During his management, the Balsams was in its “hay-day.” There are many nostalgic photos and news articles about the Hotel and Captain Doudera hanging in all the long hallways of the hotel making the place a museum of Balsams Hotel history. This painting of 1932 is by Scott Carbee.


Here is an iconic pose of the 1930’s depicting Captain Doudera with one of the Great Danes that he bred. This photograph is part of the collection that hangs in the seemingly endless hallways of the Balsams adding immensely to the atmosphere of the gracious old hotel.


As soon as I arrived at the Balsams I was itching to strike out on my own and explore some the trails that access the 8,000 acres of nature conservancy land belonging to and surrounding the resort. On our first morning we were fortunate enough to have a superb clear and crisp autumn day. I bundled up in a sweater and my woolen jacket from Patzcuaro, Mexico, and set off to visit the compelling Abeniki Mountain towering behind the hotel.


There is a reservoir above the Balsams and feeding down from that placid lake is an old iron conduit pipe half buried in the forest floor with trees tumbling over it and crowding around the incongruous rusting iron. The pipe follows along a broad trail that climbs the mountain and at one place a pin hole leak had sprung spraying a fine mist, creating a mystic rainbow that drenched all before it in a grip of ice glaze.


My walks in nature consist of strolling slowly for about ten minutes and then sitting down for a spell to examine the minutia of the scene or contemplate a view across the landscape. Whereas I do enjoy the tops of mountains, I am after all a double Aries (the goat who loves to look down from a safe distance at the comedy of life) I am not compelled to get to the top of the mountain or even to reach any goal or destination. Once I am in the quiet forest I am already where I want to be.


And here is Lake Abeniki with the mountain wind blowing across its rippling surface staining the water a royal blue as if shivering with anticipation of the winter freeze so soon to lock it in deep ice.


In the carpet of emerald green moss a foot print of the bed rock pokes through. The woods of the Dixville Notch area have an abundance of thick, luxuriant moss beds covering everything with soft green.


A brave pair of Indian Paintbrush blossoms remind me of the glow of summer with their cheery orange faces framed by neck ruffles of grass tufts.


Another view of Abeniki Lake shows a gentle shallow cove where the balsam pines frame a gateway into the near distance.


I was at first startled to come across this moose skull half buried in the loamy tangle of a fallen silver birch tree. I made a brush of balsam branches and dusted it off and posed the bleached bones on the stump of the tree that had probably felled the animal. I have no idea why my wonderings led me to this obscure place off the path in the deep forest.


This is the green roadway that forms the cross country ski trail that I followed up Abeniki Mountain; here the altitude allows a view of the surrounding mountains. At this height most of the foliage had already been swept away by northern winds leaving the closely entwined bare branches a deep mauvy gray where clouds momentarily cast purple shadows as they dash across the sky.


Here we are at the top of Abeniki Mountain. Straight on is the famous Dixville Notch cutting a passage through Gloriette Mountain (2,780 feet.) Beyond the notch you can see the “Purple Mountain’s Majesty” fading as distance thins the color. Lake Gloriette created by Henry S. Hale, the expansive second owner of the Balsams, fills in the high pasture naturally formed at the base of the notch and the grand resort can be glimpsed thorough the balsam tree tops that lend their name to the Hotel.


After my long hike I am greeted by warm sun streaming in our delightful bedroom in the Hampshire House wing of the hotel, and I think I’ll take a snooze before dinner. The wall paper in this room would have put a smile on my mother’s face – she loved cabbage rose chintz prints. The crown molding picks up one of the lavender hues of the roses and the furniture is painted a shade of pale apple green. On the headboards are carved medallions with the distinctive Balsams logo depicting three stylized pine trees in a deco styling.


The dining rooms at the Balsams are grand affairs stretching off in several directions supported by graceful columns crowned by gilded Corinthian capitals. The beamed ceilings are lit by chandeliers reminiscent of Venetian glass flower work. In the evenings Greg Goodwin entertains the guests with an easy flow of beautiful tunes on his grand piano. The competent staff cheerfully take orders and promptly deliver delicious five course dinners.


The elegant tables are set with sparkling silver engraved with Balsams initials and the china proudly features the distinctive three Balsams tree logo all set off by crisp damask table cloths woven with a design of maple leaves. The men are asked to wear jackets in the hotel and dining room after 6: PM adding dignity to the proceedings.


The grand staircase lands you just outside the dining room. To the right is an inviting fireplace flanked by comfortable seating arrangements and an antique clock ticking away in the corner.


One corner of the spacious living rooms beyond the stair hall boasts this towering Chinese what-not shelf. In the corner is an antique square piano and old oil lamp. These furnishings have been in the hotel since the 1800’s.


Trust me to show you this detail. This is the domed cover to a desk incorporated in the Chinese behemoth I just showed you. The lid rolls back revealing a neat little writing desk fitted out with lots of cubby holes for letters and papers. In Chinese iconography the turtle symbolizes longevity and this baby has been hanging out at the Balsams for the better part of century so I guess the turtles are a good thing.


This is one end of the “Sun Room” which is outfitted with comfortable wicker furniture and tastefully colored prints of birds and foliage. This room has been created by enclosing a length of veranda that wraps around the old hotel. In the morning coffee, tea, juice and muffins are generously arranged on a side board at one end of the Sun Room for early risers. The room faces a putting green with a dozen holes ever reminding us that the Balsams is a sporting resort.


This is a view of the lawns outside the Sun Room. Note the pretty gazebo in the middle distance. It has a lantern finial that is lit at night and we strolled over there, admiring the night sky and the twinkling stars after our dinner in the formal dining room.


When I mention golf and the Balsams did I say they have two courses? This is the 18 hole golf course designed in 1912 by Donald Ross, “the father of American golf course architecture.”


Now, I know nothing about golf and I have always been rather suspect of the whole affair… but I can tell you, after seeing this spread I am ready to become a Republican and traipse off across the green if only they’ll let me into the joint. If this does happen I will insist on wearing bloused knickerbockers and fancy wing-tipped two-tone shoes. Upon deeper reflection, I will probably not join the GOP even if they allow me to zip around the course in one of those nifty golf carts. I will just order a Knob Creek Manhattan straight up and gaze at this slice of heaven from the safety of the terrace.


Here is an old post card view of the Club House. The broad terrace encircling it, commands a 360-degree view encompassing New Hampshire, Vermont and distant La Belle Province, Quebec. The whole building is constructed with river stone. Inside, old wood paneling and a towering river stone fireplace keep the bar area cozy and redolent with the pleasant scent of burning wood. There is a sunny dining room looking out onto the course where lunch is offered until mid-afternoon.


This peaceful pond is situated along the private road that meanders through the extensive Balsams property connecting the Hotel with the main 18-hole golf course.


The second day of our visit I went to Huntington Cascade. Dixville Notch forms a divide, water draining from the east of the area flows into Clear Stream and then to the Androscoquin River on its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Water from the west side of the notch flows into the Mohawk and then Connecticut Rivers on its way to Long Island Sound.

A steep and mysterious path climbs beside Cascade Brook that has, over the eons, cut a deep fissure into of the bed rock so that the constant rush of white water is far below, tumbling over boulders of fantastic shape. From precipitous heights, over grown with thick emerald-green moss and graceful fern fronds, one can glimpse water falling into crystalline pools. Everywhere in the deep forest twisted and towering balsams grab the rocks with knotted roots allowing the trees to lean out over the cascade cliffs and spread green skirts of pine bows dripping with mist from the falling water.

The tree roots follows the broken shapes in the rock as does the abundant water loudly splashing down the mountain - or is it the rocks that follow the determined force of water and the muscle of the tree roots?

Thick green blankets of moss strive to soften the sharp rock outcroppings. Time is told by moldering loam piling in a crevasse of stone. There a tiny balsam sprout takes hold, confident of eventually reaching into the enveloping canopy that holds twilight at mid day.

A quartz boulder, jewel of the mountain, half hidden by brown curling leaves - leftover by the Goddess building the dome of heaven. The white stone struggles to the surface. Hearing the chatter of hikers on the path, the crystal yearns to know the way human feet will travel. I stop to pick up a fragment of the stone. In my hand I gaze at the ancient gem, enchanted by time beyond age and I long to know the way the stone has come.


Listening to the geese fly high above the forest, I look beyond the tees and see cloud wisps caught in convoluted branches that gather mist that falls with a surprising thump on my forehead and I awake from my musings with a smile.


The ferocious roar of waterfalls have been drained of their bravado by mountains reaching into the sky. Here the spring has a gentle voice whispering seductive enticements, and I wander off the path to find the source.


At the summit of Mount Gloriette the far distance comes sweeping towards me making my eyes water in the chilly wind and the amazement of it all.


The Balsams intrudes its formidable presence into the surrounding forest. From Table Rock I spy a peregrine falcon gliding on the brisk winds of autumn traveling south. This feathered hunter travels light, needing no roof for shelter. She has visited for thousands of years, knowing the way without maps. Her high pitched scream warns the hiker to take heed and mind the way home or risk being absorbed in limitless space.


Sunset gilds Sanguinary Mountain reflecting in Lake Gloriette. Night envelops the forest. The vast mountain ranges of Northern New Hampshire are dwarfed by the infinite heavens sparkling with millions of stars.