
The joke in many cities goes like this: If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute; it’ll change.
That certainly applies to northern New Hampshire — and all of New England for that matter — but I have come up with a similar saying about the upper reaches of the Granite State: If you don’t like the remote pond you’ve found, keep driving; you’ll find another one.
I’ve found countless gems of water far from civilization during my many travels to the Great North Woods just by picking a dirt road and driving. Sometimes it takes a little persistence — and a few hairy sections of “road” — but ponds are always there to find. And they’re always spectacular.
One pond typically doesn’t look very different from the next, but they all harbor their own secrets and wildlife surprises. To borrow another saying: They’re all the same, but different.
I found a great pond — maybe it was a bog or a fen, but I’ll call it a pond — a few weeks ago during a short trip to northern, N.H. I knew it was going to be great even before I parked the car and unleashed the canoe. I saw the loons right away.
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