Cellar holes, or foundations of abandoned and disintegrated houses, lay partially buried in forests throughout New England. Most date from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, although some could date back earlier. It is gratifying to find these fascinating artifacts of early American life, and they can be found if you know where to look.
Miles of country roads wind through the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. Some are unpaved and peter out after the last farmhouse. Sometimes they continue on, impassable to nearly all vehicles except ATVs, snowmobiles, and curious hikers like myself. Indeed, I have a fascination for abandoned roads because they used to lead somewhere – often to a house or two. Perhaps the owners couldn’t make a go of it in this difficult to farm rocky area. The family may have simply died off or left to build a better life elsewhere. In any case, the houses rotted away, and all that remain are the stone foundation and the remnants of a brick chimney.
Recently I hiked a familiar road leading to a small mountain called Tumbledown Dick. This road has houses on it but gradually becomes rougher, with mysterious divergences marked with numbers and occasionally a name too. Eventually the electrical lines stop and the road becomes laden with large rocks and ruts. I’ve learned to park in a particular spot off the road that appears to be a snowmobile route. Going beyond this point without a very rugged vehicle is risky, as there is nowhere to turn around. I have an unpleasant memory of having to drive a rental car in reverse on this stretch of road for a good quarter mile, after encountering a part of the road that was actually a rocky ledge.
Many years ago after parking in this spot and hiking to the top of Tumbledown Dick, I returned to the car and stood beside it staring into the woods, much to my hiking partner’s annoyance. The area is thickly wooded with second growth trees. I took a few steps into a particularly thick and dark area at the corner of the road and the path where we parked. There, surrounded and protected by closely growing pine and maple trees, was a largely intact cellar hole. As I looked more closely, I could see where the chimney stood, now replaced by a mature birch tree. A few bricks are still visible. Moving in to examine the hole more closely, I saw that in this house, the chimney was located in the middle of the house; more foundation lay on the other side of it, though in poor condition. Layer of leaves from decades of season fill the cellar hole; about three feet of mortarless stone foundation is visible.
This cellar hole still intrigues me, all the more so because on a subsequent hike, I walked up the logging path and found a tiny cemetery with one gravestone. There may be other unmarked graves in it as well. An intact stone wall surrounds the cemetery. A small faded American flag placed at the grave shows that someone knows it exists and has bothered to honor someone long dead.
