The wife and I spent the weekend in New Hampshire, with all 6.8 million fellow Massachusetts residents it seemed, judging from the preponderance of red-white-and-blue license plates on display.
The coronavirus pandemic has had a relatively minimal impact on the lives of residents of the Live Free Or Die state, which has had 6,600 total cases and 417 deaths. Massachusetts, by comparison, has had 118,000 cases and more than 8,600 deaths, despite doing a pretty good job of physical distancing.
So a visiting Bay Stater can accept our neighbors’ lack of urgency about wearing a mask or standing a safe distance away. But, I fear, with so many Massachusetts tourists invading their space and throwing caution to the cool summer breezes, New Hampshire’s COVID numbers will grow.
We stayed in a townhouse in the small old-timey town of Lincoln, home of Loon Mountain, the Highland Games and the Kancamagus Highway. A notice outside the Price Chopper grocery dictated that face coverings were mandatory. Several shoppers did not wear masks inside the store, and many ignored the one-way signs on the floor. One oblivious young woman, about 17 years old, with no mask, muscled her way between us, reached into the milk cooler, and grabbed a gallon of fat-free. “Sorry. My mom’s waiting in the car,” she said.
The Lincoln area was jumping all weekend. Every restaurant in North Woodstock, the town next door, was bustling. All took precautions. Tables were set up outside, appropriately spaced for physical distancing. Every table was occupied. People were outside, having fun. Clark’s Trained Bears down the road posted a sign “Sold Out For Today,” with tickets available only online in advance. Even the Wolfman wore a mask.
Parking was prohibited on Franconia Notch Parkway in an effort to reduce the number of people on its many beautiful hiking trails. All daily tickets for The Flume and other popular parks were scooped up in advance, the number of visitors closely monitored.
One thing obvious during drives to Polly’s Pancake Parlor in Sugar Hill and to the Quincy Bog Natural Area in Rumney (the park ranger there told us that the county had had TWO positive COVID cases since March), this is clearly Trump country. Trump signs were everywhere. There were hundreds. They were on the sides of barns, they adorned many front yards. Trump flags flew proudly from the back of pickup trucks. One sign on a back road announced, “Welcome to New Hamshire (sic), Mr. President.”
Biden signs, in contrast, were rare. We saw four total during three days of pleasurable drives throughout New Hampshire. Will this be a snapshot of the entire country a couple of months from now?
On Sunday, we took a leisurely, roundabout way home. The drive was enhanced greatly by listening to past Newport Folk Festival highlights. Newport Folk was supposed to take place this July 31-Aug. 2 weekend; my best pal and I have attended this greatest of all music festivals for many, many years. I missed it and I missed him.
Our route home included passing Lake Winnipesaukee, Meredith, Weirs Beach and Alton Bay. Gorgeous areas, all. It was a bit disconcerting though to see very few people wearing a mask or social distancing. In lines at ice cream shops and clam shacks, dozens of bare-faced revelers were closerthanthis. They wore no shoes, no shirts and no face coverings, but all were being served.
Again, most of the autos were from Massachusetts.
It wasn’t until we reached Hampstead, a picturesque little town near the Mass. border, that we saw the majority of people wearing a mask.
With coronavirus numbers spiking across the country, college students returning to Boston, and fewer taking the matter seriously and following recommended precautions, I fear the curve is moving farther from flattening every single day.
And our neighbors to the north, who live and breathe the state motto of Live Free Or Die, might be the ones to suffer the most from their Masshole visitors. I hope I’m wrong.
