NH Cohos Trail: Coleman S.P. to Clarksville Pond

Little Diamond Pond at 5:45 am. Time to go!

Day two of the final trip. This next section mostly followed ATV routes, and it would be great Sunday weather for the ATVers, so I was on the trail before sunrise. In my experience, most ATV riders are not morning people. I'm not either, but I can make an exception. The Milky Way still stretched across the dark sky as I wandered over to the bathhouse before taking down the tent.

Turning onto Heath Road before the ATV crowds wake up

The Cohos guidebook refers to this section as the "Hardscrabble" section due to the area's history of poor farms, and says they hope to reroute the trail off the ATV roads some day. But for now, it would be ATV trails most of the way.

No mountains to cross this day, just rolling hills via ten miles of gravel roads. Piece of cake, I thought, as I strolled past camps for ATVs and snowmobile facilities in the early light.  I was glad I was up early. The first ATV trail, Heath Road, clearly got a lot of ATV use, but it was now dead quiet. Someone had hit a poor porcupine. How does that happen on a straight gravel road? It's not like a porcupine can dart out in front of you.

Bear Rock Road

Heath Road came out onto Bear Rock Road, a car road with dwellings, and a couple of sedate ATVs toodled down the road nearby, no different than a  passing car. This was a neat road, although there was a moment of concern when a big dog came down the road barking at me. I did my best to look away and walked deliberately on the other side of the road and got past the barker without incident. That was a funny dog as I approached. It's bark kept echoing back from a nearby hill as if in response, and I wondered if the dog was barking at itself.

There were a number of old apple trees dropping apples along the road, and some potentially abandoned buildings, a sign of the former farming days. I imagine this was marginal farmland compared to the Connecticut River valley.

McAllaster Road promised peace and quiet

The trail then took a right turn onto McAllaster Road and that was the best part of the entire hike. This was an active farm road and ATVs were prohibited. The scenery was gorgeous and the trail was peaceful.

One of the few active farms in the area

I took my time on this lovely road, lingering to greet the cows that were munching on fallen apples. Although it was only maybe 1.5 miles long, many of my favorite pictures were from this section. It was mostly up a gentle hill, and at the top I finally got a good cell phone signal, so I sat down and communicated with the greater world for a bit.

McAllister Road was the highlight of this walk

Cows eating apples that had fallen from the trees

McAllister Road

But all good things must come to an end, as did McAllister Road. The trail began following a series of well-used ATV trails. Some sections were also open to regular vehicles and there was an occasional camp.

Following ATV trails now

Further south, the ATVs seemed pretty tame and sedate, and the ATV "trails" were often well-built gravel roads, but there was something different in the air up here. There was a sign, posted by ATVers, imploring other ATVers to stay on the trail and report anyone who did not, otherwise the trail could be closed (I heard later from a local that some area trails had in fact been closed by landowners because ATVs were trampling their hay and so forth). I didn't see anything like this further south.

A few bad eggs

The gravel road, now called the Deadwater Trail, came out onto one particularly spectacular vista. You could see for miles. The meadows on either side were guarded, presumably from ATVs, with a white string. Throughout this part of the walk, I was increasingly hearing ATVs in the distance.

Deadwater ATV Trail

An improbable snack shack stood in the center of this spectacular area, but was sadly closed for the season due to "lack of business."

Snack Shack for ATVers was closed

The trail continued down the hill, with deepening tire ruts, and at some point I heard blasting music rapidly approaching, followed by the revving of an ATV.  I was in the worst possible location, on a tight turn with ruts several feet deep and no easy way to get out of them as a couple of young teenagers burst around the corner at high speed, suddenly saw me (or my bright orange hat), and jerked to the side to keep from hitting me. I motioned for them to slow down, and in response they gunned the motor and spun the tires, throwing gravel back at me. This is more like my typical Connecticut ATV experience. Jerks.

Shared Trail

ATV traffic picked up very rapidly, and maybe thirty ATVs passed me on the next stretch. They were not so rude as the kids, but the dust was terrible, in part because they weren't slowing down much as they passed. They would zoom past and I was left sucking the cloud of dust into my lungs and rubbing my eyeballs coated with grit. This was not good.

These guys and their ATVs looked different than what I encountered further south. They were more the thrill-seeking type of ATVers, young men, and their ATVs were more diverse, mostly lacking the roll bars that seemed standard further south. I passed a sign indicating it was the boundary between two ATV clubs: the Metallak (south) and the GNWR (north). I wondered if that explained the differences.

ATV Club Line

I could not arrive at the turn-off for Rudy's Camp soon enough, thoughtfully marked with a make-shift sign. Yay!

Yes!

This was so much better. No ATVs followed me up the hill and I could breath once again. The ATV noise began to recede. Seems like I got off the ATV trails just in time. As I walked I reflected that I was walking the last of the trails heading north from Long Island Sound, and it was taking me to Clarksville. That's right, I was on the last trail to Clarkville. It took a day or two to get that Monkey's song out of my head.

Road to Rudy's Campground was much quieter and less dusty

The spur to the campground was nearly a mile, mostly uphill, but eventually I saw the RVs and turned into the campground. I'd gone in the back way and didn't see an office, but there was an older woman there cutting back a bush, so I asked her for directions. Her name was Mary. She dropped what she was doing and walked me over to her daughter, who owned the place. I paid her $25 and got my choice of being in the lawn near the pond or back by the bathhouse. I chose the pond of course.

Rudy's Cabins and Campground in Clarksville

It was around noon and my hiking day was already over. Seemed ridiculous, but the next legal camping area was another fourteen miles. I would just have to suffer the agony of hanging out at this beautiful pond all day in the sun.

Super nice bathhouse for the spoiled backpacker. 

Mary brought me over to the luxurious bathhouse. Wow. This is a whole different kind of backpacking that I could get used to. We had a nice conversations about all kinds of things like the Cohos Trail; the recreational-ATV industry (she said I'd be in the clear once I got to the First Connecticut Lake); otters in the pond; and local fudge. I mentioned that my husband would be up in a few days and that we liked historical sites. She said she was a history buff and retrieved some articles about the local history, including a brochure about the Indian Stream Republic. The Republic was the area northwest of Route 3 (Pittsburg) that was in dispute by the U.S. and Canada for a long time, leading to some rather independent inhabitants. In 1832, they claimed their own republic. Live free or die! That lasted for eight years, when they finally agreed to pledge allegiance to the U.S.

A great place to watch the otters and loons on Clarksville Pond

I spent a lot of time watching the loons and even some otters in the pond. The otters were way out there, but they were definitely otters. Also endured another hot shower and discovered that if I sat at the bathhouse table in just the right spot, I could charge my phone while getting a wifi signal. Hot showers and wifi while backpacking! What is the world coming to?

Goodnight, Clarksville Pond

The only downside to the campground was that the spot I chose was opposite an open garage door where a table saw and hammer were being used all afternoon. So it was pretty noisy until the work was done in the evening.

Clouds started to blow over Clarksville Pond as night fell. The forecast for the rest of the week was pretty unsettled and the warm, dry spell was over. Well into the night I could still hear ATVs on the trails off in the distance, along with the loons. The club rules say the trails are closed at night, but the rules didn't seem too important in these parts. Perhaps a reflection of that old Indian Stream Republic attitude?