We Walked an Entire Coastline!
New Hampshire
Okay, so it wasn’t the Alaskan coastline, which is either 6,640 or 33,904 miles (see coastline paradox below). And it wasn’t the Appalachian Trail, though I have hiked about 3.5 of its 2,200 miles (see Does Traveling With Family Stress You Out? for two of those miles. The other 1.5 was when my husband and I trekked on the sidewalk from our lovely accomodations in Norwich, CT, to the Starbucks in Dartmouth, NH, a few years ago.) My friend, Antje, and I did, however, successfully and enjoyably meander New Hampshire’s 13-131 miles of shoreline.
What’s with these wildly divergent coastline measurements? According to a couple of scientific articles and YouTube, there’s this thing called the coastline paradox. I spaced out during the video when fractals, triangles, Koch Snowflakes, and other mathy stuff was bandied about, but I snapped back to it when I heard:
“The point is, Earth is constantly evolving, so good luck going out to a coast with a microscope and measuring the length that way. Every number you see online or in a book for how long a coastline is is basically just a guess or estimation. The true value is impossible to know, and that is the coastline paradox.”
Meaning that our guesstimation of 21 miles, made by comparing our iPhone and Android-reported steps, is entirely valid. The fact that New Hampshire’s ocean-touching coastline is the shortest in the US, no matter how you measure it, does not in any way take away from our feeling of accomplishment.
In fact, we’re wondering where we can find medals.
I’d talked about walking the New Hampshire coastline for years. When I mentioned it yet again a couple of months ago at one of Antje’s puts-Martha-Stewart-to-shame brunches, she (Antje, not Martha Stewart) asked me when I was going to just walk the coastline already.
“Whenever you can come with me,” I answered, happy to have received the kick in the butt I needed to get it on the calendar.
And, so, one misty morning in mid-June. after much re-arranging of our backpacks and slathering on of sunscreen, she and I climbed the first beach access in Seabrook, New Hampshire, and started walking north along the coast.
We were on the road for 11 hours that first day. Before you mock us for walking only 15 miles, consider how busy we were:
stopping in front of various beach houses and critiquing their architectural and landscaping choices. We had a lot to discuss, including a ramshackle white clapboard house with an ATM in the front yard.
searching for breakfast on the Hampton Beach boardwalk. We found acai bowls, I kid you not, that were quite tasty and, I assume based on all that fresh fruit, healthy. Boardwalks have come a long way since back in my day, when your culinary choices were pretty much cotton candy, french fries, or fried dough. It did warm my aging heart to see that boardwalk kitsch shops are still selling sleeveless black T-shirts with Jack Daniels logos on them.
sitting on rocks and watching duck families teach their babies how to swim and evade predators, or simply gazing at the ocean and reflecting on how perfect life was at that moment.
stopping to smell the early-blooming roses at Fuller Gardens. Alvan T. Fuller, who commissioned the gardens for his Boar’s Head (now North Hampton), NH, summer estate, is notable for: opening one of the first automobile dealerships in Massachusetts in 1900; becoming quite wealthy; working his way up the political ladder to become governor of Massachusetts; and, in that role, refusing to pardon Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, Italian-Americans convicted (most believe wrongly) of robbery and murder. While the Fullers’ summer home, Runnymede, is gone, the gardens remain and are well-worth a visit.
stopping around mile 12 for lobster dip and lobster rolls at Rays Seafood in Rye, NH. I had the cold, Antje had the hot, and we agreed they were about the best damn lobster rolls we’d ever eaten.
The best single best moment of our walk was when we opened the door to our room at the Rye Motor Inn. Yes, our feet ached and we were tired, but what blew us away was that the room wasn’t dreary and mildewy, as “motor inns” can be. Instead, our room was newly renovated in a 1950s SoCal pink and pistachio style AND it had a coffee maker with two types of coffee AND it had several bottles of red and white wine from which to choose AND it had a kick-ass shower. In short, that room was there for us at our end-of-day moment of need. Okay, technically it was an end-of-day moment of want, but you catch my drift: it was a happy ending to our day.
Despite blisters and various middle-aged aches, Antje and I set off in a gentle drizzle the next morning—after coffee, of course. We walked from the Rye Motor Inn to downtown Portsmouth via the Seacoast Science Center, Odiorne Point State Park, a part of Route 1A with little shoulder and lots of curves that we probably shouldn’t have been on, and Parkd: An Eclectic Eatery that was eclectic and had good eats.
Our New Hampshire walk ended in Portsmouth at the Elephantine Bakery, with its fabulous cappuccinos and pastries and really cool zebra wallpaper in the bathroom. It’s a little disturbing because the zebras are leaping over arrows but, since none are depicted actually getting shot, we’ll just go with the weapons as artistic elements.
In my experience, you have your “must have mountains” and your “must have oceans” people. I am 110% the latter, which is one reason why it’s good that my friend Dianne talked me out of moving to Denver many years ago. (Another is my Type A personality that doesn’t play well for long with the laid-back Colorado vibe. Thank you, Dianne!)
So, my next long hike will definitely be along the ocean, I’m just not sure which one. Indian? Pacific? Or perhaps Antje and I will walk the New Hampshire coastline again, from north to south this time, in a different season so that we can see familiar sights from a new perspective.
Oh, and find out how the Beach Plum’s lobster rolls compare to Ray’s.
Enjoyed your story, Christina! Thanks for sharing and inspiring!
As always entertaining! And inspiring! Although I am in the inland hiking camp