Boise Rock

After reading our blog, you know we set out pretty often to go on an adventure. But on this rare occasion, we got to get away for an entire weekend. We stayed two nights in the White Mountains and spent one of the days roaming the Kancamagus highway and all the roads leading around I-93 and into the Conways.

We made many stops checking out the scenery, waterfalls and monuments. Some of the sights were pretty amazing but when we stopped at Boise Rock, I got out, saw a rock and hopped back in the car and told Dave, “it’s just a rock, lets keep going.” And we did, we checked out many more places, went to dinner and made our way back to the hotel.

I didn’t put any thought into that rock that night. But for some reason, I woke up early the next morning and I thought about the rock and why on earth was it so special to have a name and a tourist stop for it. So while I let Dave sleep in, I starting researching information.

The story about how the rock got its name was pretty fascinating to me but first I have to point out this is no ordinary rock. This rock was moved into the Franconia Notch region millions of years ago during the ice age. It’s funny how nature seems to predict its future because if you look at how this rock sits, it has quite a ledge beneath it. Fast forward to the early 1800’s and the ledge beneath it quite literally helped save a mans life.

A man by the name of Thomas Boise was traveling on his horse through Franconia Notch when a blizzard struck the area. He chose to take shelter under this rock. As conditions grew worse and temperatures dropped he faced the terrible decision to kill and skin his horse in hopes that the hide wrapped around him would help him survive the night. The next day, after not arriving at his destination, friends set out to find him and found him under the rock wrapped in his horses hide. The hide was so frozen, they had to ax it off of him. Thanks to the sacrifice of his horse for the skin and the shelter of the rock, he survived the harsh winter night.

Clearly, this was a remarkable story of survival and the story became so well known, the rock was given his name. I would like to think the horse deserved some recognition in all this, after all, without knowing it he played a vital role in saving this mans life.

About 2 months later, we drove up this way for a hiking trip and I had Dave pull in so I could check out this rock and take some photos. Of course, had I given it a better look the first time, I would have noticed the plaque outlining the heroic story. I immediately thought about how wimpy I am with even the smallest snow storm. I don’t even like to go out to the store for milk, let alone, make a few steps out of my warm house to clear off the car. We have the luxury of knowing our forecasts but back then, they took their chances in travel during those harsh winter months. I’m not sure I could have ever survived those same conditions and killed my horse but you truly don’t know what you are capable of until you are faced with dying or surviving.

Another lesson learned, never judge a book by its cover. So much for it being “just a rock.”