Tom Dunkel
White Mountains, New Hampshire

Once a year I try to make a pilgrimage to “Have-a-Little-Faith National Park,” more commonly known as the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Not just for the beauty (though the views can knock your Thinsulate socks off) or the history (the first recorded ascent of Mount Washington was made wa-a-ay back in 1642) or the convenience factor (the Whites boast the only string of European-style hiking huts in America, which means you can pack blessedly light)—but in large measure because the landscape is in considerably better shape than it was 150 years ago.

When Henry David Thoreau tromped through these woods in 1839 and 1858, some peaks had been shaved bald by strip loggers and others had hotels perched on top of them. Today they’ve got thick green heads of “hair” and only cairns mark the summits. Hooray for us! The loggers and hoteliers are gone. The conservationists won one. Who knows? Sometime in the 21st century, sheep may be grazing again in midtown Manhattan.

Tom Dunkel is a contributing editor for TRAVELER and George.