6/4/2015
We checked out of the Centennial Hotel at eleven a.m. I was glued to the television watching a match at the French Open but was unable to finish. I reluctantly hit the road to head towards Hillsborough. It was the birthplace of our fourteenth president, Franklin Pierce. I had always been fascinated by the small town roots of men that had ascended to power.
I could say with certainty that New Hampshire’s nature scene was pristine. Everywhere I turned people were recycling, taking care of their health, and caring for kids. I was very impressed with runners darting around every bend. Even as I stepped further from town there were still plenty of people running. I stayed pretty much on the highways 202 and 9 until google maps suggested I take a different route. I was sure the machine wanted to take vengeance on me for all the abuse I had inflicted on it. It led me on some back roads with no running lane and very long steep hills. Somewhere along the way I missed a turn but still hit the main roads leading to Hillsborough. Crystal had driven ahead and sent me a message saying I should have stayed on the main road. It had been shorter and easier to maneuver.
When righted my path and connected with Crystal, we ran through the town of Henniker together. We both took deep breaths of clean air as we ran along the Contoocook River. Even in the small towns people were out running, biking, and walking their dogs. The cool clean water provide life to all in its surrounding. Various trees, ferns as far as the eye could see, and all the critters in the neighborhood flourished from the life giving liquid. I couldn’t help but think of how California was running dry.
When I reached Hillsborough, the birthplace of Franklin Pierce, I could hear my stomach calling my name. It wasn’t a surprise. My hunger was as needy as an insecure girlfriend. Crystal and I searched for the best place in town. On the main street a blue Victorian house called our name. It was a Turkish restaurant named Mediterrano. We didn’t realize they were about to close but the owners Ibraham, and John generously lent us their ears. The two cousins had started the only Turkish restaurant in the state of New Hampshire and their business seemed to be blossoming. After chatting with us they offered to feed us. They seated us in a room with warm orange colors and great decorations.
Crystal and I both ordered falafel plates and we agreed to share a lavash bread. What they brought to our table was pure art! The bread came out with a side of hummus and it looked like a puffy cloud on top of a bowl. The light taste went nicely with the hummus. Our falafels sat on top of a rice that was seasoned wile pickled onions and cabbage added a bit of tang. The meal topped my running day with seasoned bliss. The place was definitely on my top five list on this trip. I received all the nutrients I needed to replenish my fatigued body.
From there we headed to the Oxbow campground up the street. We counted our blessings as we had been fortunate every day of stage three up to that point. We had welcome hosts every night and beautiful scenery at every location. I could see why people chose to live in New Hampshire during the warm seasons. The way the land was preserved spoke to me and Crystal. We felt right at home and at one with the land.
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