Where There's Smoke: Chapter Four
A Father And Daughter On The Trail To NH's Fire Towers
Welcome to Week Five, Chapter Four of Where There’s Smoke: On the Trail to New Hampshire’s Fire Towers, a weekly Wednesday publication brought exclusively to subscribers of Day By Day. We hope you enjoy this old is new memoir of a father and daughter’s adventure to all of the Granite State’s active lookouts. And while you all are getting these chapters first and we won’t be sharing across networks, the link is open should you want to share or pass on to someone who you think would be interested in subscribing. Please like and comment and let’s make this run a success!
If you’d like to catch up first, here’s a link to last week’s Introduction and a link to Chapter One and Chapter Two and Chapter Three. See you in the tower!
Earth Emotions
#4 South Pawtuckaway Mountain, Nottingham
We are deep into our hike up South Pawtuckaway Mountain – no longer summer and not yet quite fall – when Uma pauses mid stride, bends over and rummages through a pile of leaves, branches and stones. I stop, as I always do, when she gets some notion into her head, and watch her work.
Though she’s not yet five, I’ve begun to witness hints of her potential strength, moments of curiosity and fearlessness that feel well beyond her years. Being here with her, legs growing stronger, steps becoming more certain, reminds of the time I spent in these same woods with my other “daughter,” Janelle; watching her grow and connect with the natural world.
I’ve also had to relearn a lesson from my time hiking with Janelle. Slow down.
Everything here seems to fascinate Uma. Every tiny stone, flower, bent branch, mud, footstep, frog; every other hiker, every dog, the clouds themselves, the sound of wind. She asks question after question, some of such depth that it never even occurred to me there would be a question.
“Why is the moon and the sun in the same sky?”
“How much water does a frog drink?”
“How many trees are there?”
I don’t know, baby, jeez! I make a list as we go and we look these things up later. As I usually do when in nature with a child, I feel woefully, deeply clueless. But the day is mild, my pack is thick with snacks and I don’t have to have all the answers right this moment.
“Look daddy!” she squeals.
The treasure she found turns out to be a thin strip of birch bark, nearly a perfect U shape and she’s placed it on the top of her head like a hair band. My first reaction, I’m embarrassed to say, is to grab it off the top of her head. “Ugh, no that’s dirty!”
Two things happen then.
First, she begins to tear up, her mean dumb father having deprived her of her moment of Earth connection.
Second, the ghost of a unhappy Thoreau shows up and punches me in the arm.
But ticks! But mold! ‘Nope, nope,’ says ghost Thoreau, ‘give her back her tree bark before the moment passes.’
So, I do. “I’m sorry, honey, I just got worried that there might be bugs or something. Just check for bugs ok?”
She stares at me.
“Just, look, make sure it’s clean because…”
More stares…
I sigh. “Here’s your bark hat, baby, it looks beautiful.”
And it does. She tucks the ends behind her ears and flakes of bark and dirt scatter deep into her hair and it’s filthy, but she smiles and the forest seems to bend toward her in approval. Uma wears that thing for an hour.
The environmental philosopher Glenn Albrecht developed a language by which to approach natural connection, and a specific word for what Uma is doing. He calls it Eutierria, meaning feelings of good and positive connection to the Earth and its life force. The word is assembled from the Greek prefix Good and the root Earth.
And I’m here to tell you, Uma’s Eutierria is strong.
Beside the birch head band, emboldened by my allowances, she collects a branch she says looks like the letter Y, a handful of bird berries she wants to feed the birds at the tower and several colorful stones she insists are jewels. By the time we get to the top, Uma is filthy, her hair a tangled web, her hands and face streaked with mud. And one last indignity – we discover a hornet next along the stairs leading up the tower. We can’t climb.
So, we spread out our picnic near the trail entrance to the summit and Uma takes it upon herself to warn approaching hikers of the deadly stinging insects. “Excuse me,” she exclaims to hikers, startled to discover a miniature ranger at the top, “but you can’t go up the tower, there’s hornets up there!”
No one questions her information. Every single person nods solemnly, taking her seriously. One couple, dressed in leather biker gear, huffing and puffing from the hike, asks Uma to show them.
“I can’t see too well little lady,” the man with the bushy beard says. “Can you show me the hornets?”
I watch her walk over to the tower and point. “Well, I’ll be,” says the man. “Thank you! You may have saved me from getting stung!”
She wanders back. “Daddy, I saved that man!”
“I heard, baby! Good job!”
The day melts on. We eat all our carrots, strawberries, crackers and a brownie I smuggled in. A boy scout troop comes and goes, and she makes sure they know about the hornets. She pets dogs. And in time, a grasshopper alights on her shoulder and she shows remarkable restraint in letting him be. Uma is rewarded with its company for ten minutes; my daughter, a grasshopper whisperer.
In the end, we are the first ones up, and the last ones down. As the bearded biker dude is leaving the summit, Uma waves and says, “See you later.”
“Hope so!” he returns.
We head down, and though we may have eaten all the food, my pack is heavy with twigs and bark. And sure enough, as we reach the parking lot, we come upon the bearded biker, just getting into his car to leave.
He calls her over and kneels down to eye level. “See,” he says, “told ya I’d see you again!”
She laughs, and the woods echo, and for some reason Uma reaches down and plucks a twig off the road and hands it to him.
“A gift?” She nods. “I’ll cherish this!” he says.
And the Eutierria draws us together; the woods and the rocks and the buzzing hornets above. We are all children.
South Pawtuckaway Mountain, Nottingham (Elevation 908 feet)
Location and Directions: The tower is located inside Pawtuckaway State Park, which has several access roads. Three primary trail routes of varying distance can get you to the tower, which include Mountain Trail to South Ridge Trail (approx. 5-mile round trip), South Ridge Trail (approx. 3.6-mile round trip) and Tower Trail (approx. 1-mile round trip).
Our Route: Reservation Road to Tower Road to get to the trail head, then Tower Trail to the summit. Total mileage (1 mile)
If You Go: With 5,500 acres, about 32 miles of hiking trails and a large lake to camp by, Pawtuckaway is one of the most popular state parks in Southern New Hampshire. If you’re looking for something off the beaten path to do after your fire tower climb, check out the old cellar foundation and tiny grave yard of the Goodrich family, one of the first settlers to the region. The remains can be found opposite the Tower Trail parking area on Tower Road.
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Each story has been excelIent and brought back fond memories. I particularly loved this chapter as I've been frequenting Pawtuckaway and the South Mtn Twr for 2 1/2 decades.
Rome and I caught a beautiful sunset from the top platform on the tower on a cool, early fall day in 2023.
I also enjoyed the chapter on the Warner Hill Twr since that conjured up memories of my grandson and your daughter sharing a snack on the top of the tower, which had been Rome's 5th at the time.
Thank you for sharing another great read!
Especially loved this one! My youngest is 14, so I miss those days as I am sure you are beginning to already