North Woodstock, New Hampshire | Village in the White Mountains

Each September, just as the calendar is easing into the first official days of fall, Jim and I take to the road to make our annual pilgrimage north to the White Mountains. Though we spend much of the trip lounging on the fields of Loon Mountain watching burly men clad in kilts compete in the Scottish Highland Games, we always try to carve off a chunk of time to explore our surroundings. Our most recent visit found us kicking along Main Street in the neighboring village of North Woodstock, New Hampshire.

A logging hub in the mid-1800s, Woodstock saw that industry begin to wane in the early 1900s as tracts of land were snapped up by the White Mountain National Forest. But as one industry declined, another was beginning to gain a foothold: tourism. The majestic scenery of the White Mountains, combined with the ease of travel by rail, drew throngs of visitors to the area, creating a need for lodging. Homes were opened up to take in boarders, and grand resort hotels were erected to accommodate the influx of vacationers.

Gazing at the Woodstock Inn—now the Woodstock Inn, Station & Brewery—with its white-clapboard facade and matching picket fence, it’s easy to imagine this as one of the area’s original inns. And though the main building has been a fixture on Main Street for more than a century, the inn itself was established in 1982. Tucking into the pub for a beverage and a bite to eat before exploring the town seemed a good idea as we watched low-slung clouds skittering across the sky.

A very good idea, apparently, and as we navigated the maze of corridors to reach the pub, we were greeted by a mass of bodies. People crowded the edges of the Main Bar, spilling into the Brew Pub, and filling just about every square inch of space in between.

And that’s how we came to be seated at the exterior Dam Bar, next to two gents in kilts, on a blustery 43-degree day. A bit chilly, sure, yet totally worth it for the sweet potato ravioli and lobster egg rolls.

Leaving our rival clan members behind, we strolled down Main Street to explore more of its offerings. A stone’s skip from the inn sits Fadden’s General Store—their lineage stretches back to 1862. A broad building that’s stuffed with New-England-made goods ranging from their own maple syrup to apparel from Johnsons Woolen Mills, what really makes this general store a gem is the seven generations of Faddens who have continually operated the place. They also run a sugar house, and visitors are welcome to pop in during maple season when they’re boiling.

On the opposite end of Main Street, you’ll find Arnold’s Antiques. Its resemblance to the September 1973 cover of Yankee Magazine pulled us in, and we found ourselves loitering to peruse the antiques and collectibles strewn across the shelves.

Ready to be back out in the fresh air, we crossed to the other side of the street, and wandered down to Cascade Park. This small village green gently slopes down to the Pemigewasset River, and we ventured onto the undulating banks of rock that trail along the river’s edge to take in the turning foliage.

There’s never enough time to see everything a town has to offer, but as we trekked back to the car to meet up with our friends in Lincoln, we knew that Woodstock, New Hampshire, would be one of those spots we returned to again and again.