Before I dive back into the happenings of Grafton, here’s a look back at where I’ve been for the last week. That would be the Lost River Valley Campground in North Woodstock, N.H., which I enthusiastically recommend if you’re in the market for a campsite (mostly tent sites but space for pop-up campers as well).
When we first arrived, the Lost River was a placid little stream near our campsite. My husband taught the kids to skip rocks and my daughter happily waded in water that only reached to mid-shin at its deepest point.
Wednesday night, the sky opened up. We fell asleep to the sound of rain pounding on the roof and canvas. When we woke up in the morning, it took a few minutes for us to realize that the sound we thought was more rain was actually the river.
The river was up by a few feet and turned overnight from placid stream into raging rapids. It was quite the sight.
Also, lest you think I was exaggerating about the bears:
We never did see a bear, save for the trained ones at Clark’s Trading Post, so we never got to try that “maintain eye contact and back away slowly” tip.