We’d never had a look at New England and I thought we should and that driving might be a good way to do it. Just random driving: along the coast for a start and then upstate into the hills. I shut my eyes, pointed and picked Franconia as the far destination. It was in about the right place and had a motel, so that’s what we did.

EN ROUTE

I noticed Salem in the broad vicinity. Salem! The Scarlet Letter, The Crucible. American Gothic. Witches. Weirdos. What would you see? You’d think it would have to be worth a visit. That could be our first destination.

Salem turned out to be something like an outer suburb of Boston which didn’t make the drive any less interesting.

I had noticed this geographical feature and thought we might investigate. There was also I noticed somewhere to eat, and drink, near the end of the neck and that it might be a good place to have lunch. Both repaid. Nahant, while not the Hamptons nor Cape Cod, still had plenty of houses to look at. Linne, our very fine waitstaff, who had just got her real estate license, assured us that they were as tightly held as I thought they might be. (You can click on these to get a better look.)

SALEM

There were ten in the audience. Four were clearly there for the music, the other four were having a noisy girls night out, and the other two were us. I failed another test of America here. As things wrapped up I noticed the keen but undemonstrative fan drop a $100 bill into the hat. Then the couple sitting next to us dropped in a roll of unidentified denominations, and we had nothing suitable to offer, not a cracker. You can’t drop a credit card into a hat. Well, I don’t think you should anyway. I left full of applause but embarrassed. It’s the sort of thing you ought to consider.

We had better luck with the possessed girls, poor old John Proctor and Giles ‘more weight’ Corey. They were there for us, or at least had been. Click to discover that Giles Corey was ‘Pressed to death’.

But I think Salem has misunderstood ‘The Crucible’ and the events on which it is based. The point is there aren’t any witches, no one was really possessed, it was all a fabrication. Even reading through the allegory, Miller was providing commentary on the McCarthy trials. He was against what was happening. Against. Deceit, hogwash, folderol, concoction, falsehood, rubbish. A big collection of mis-spokenness. Both history and Miller make that clear. But, on the other hand, how many tourists is that going to draw?

We could have spent time at The Black Veil Shoppe of Drear and Wonders, the Dairy Witch Icecream shop, the Witch House at Salem, the Witch Dungeon Museum, Chambers of Terror, the Salem Witch Trials Museum and Memorial, Hex: Old World Witchery, Artemisia Spells and Botanicals, Stardust, Vampfangs, Circle of Stitch Witches, Crow Haven Corner (‘Readings are available by the talented Witches of Crow Haven! Walk-ins are available but appointments are recommended’), The Cauldron Black, Hauswitch … and that’s by no means the end of it.

The House of Seven Gables is another (somewhat mysterious) attraction. I think maybe Nate was born there. Its ‘mission is to be a welcoming, thriving, historic site and community resource that engages people of all backgrounds in our inclusive American story.’ That’s where we were. I saw one Trump sticker. These aren’t the people who are going to vote him back in.

For me — Myrna was drawing — Salem’s primary interest was the range of housing in its old quarter.

These aren’t good examples but I like their style. Simple, precise with just a bit of nonsense. The green one was 30m from where I did a load of washing (a highlight: loved it, appreciated it, it’s my go).

This one (‘Derby House 1762’ the sign says) I include because it is a perfect example of a style in American architecture. Harvard and the expensive suburbs of Boston are covered in buildings of this sort although mostly very much bigger: flat frontage, symmetrical composition (including dormers and chimneys), mini arches over the windows as decoration (they might be structurally useful), a whiff of a portico with a modest step, identical windows fitted flat to the line of the wall, white or cream highlighting. No exterior weather protection apart from the roof and wall. They’re like houses kids would draw. It seems that it’s what’s inside that counts.

THE WHITE MOUNTAINS

American Food, Portsmouth, Maine.

Always plenty.

We drove inland from Portsmouth not having much idea about where we were going or what we’d see. Just for a look. It was very early Spring and the blossom that was out was mostly pink but there was enough to give an indication just how attractive this part of the world could be. We found our way without intending to onto the Kancamagus Highway.

‘The Kancamagus Highway is now designated an American Scenic Byway for its rich history, aesthetic beauty and culture. The Byway takes you through a path [about 45 miles long and full of sweeping bends] cut through the White Mountain National Forest with breathtaking views of the White Mountains, the Swift River, Sabbaday Falls, Lower Falls and Rocky Gorge. The Kanc takes you to an elevation of just under 3,000 feet at its highest point at Kancamagus Pass on the flank of Mt. Kancamagus near Lincoln, NH.‘

The road was littered with trailheads, dozens of them. The peaks were covered in snow. There would be some excellent walking here. And, yes, just great. A really good drive. These are the Lower Falls.

It was only later that I realised we’d almost driven to Canada.

• • • • • • • •

We drove from Franconia back to Boston making an effort to stick to B roads, successful for the first third, unsuccessful for the second third when we needed to hurry, and not an option for the last third. But I will remember that first third, ambling back and forth across the Connecticut River, the border dividing Vermont and New Hampshire, in an exquisitely fertile river valley. (I saw a moose bumbling its way across the road into the forest.)

This is the photo.

So to remember that drive I thought I’d write down the names of all the little towns we went through between Franconia and Concord. They have their own references and collective magic.

Franconia, Sugar Hill, Lisbon, Woodsville, Haverhill, Piermont, Lyme, Bradfield, Fairlee, Eli, North Shetford, Lower Slade, Hanover, West Lebanon, Plainfield, Cornish Flat, River Valley, Claremont, Enfield, Wilmot, Concord.

The last ten miles into Boston was arduous and finally we had to negotiate our way through this: feasible, but you had to keep your wits about you, exhausting for the navigator. (Top right hand corner: Boston Tea Party ships and museum. Below, Gillette World Shaving Headquarters.)

And then after a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed we went somewhere else, to which there are some stories attached. We went from driving to walking.