Kancamagus and Cocheco

As I drove down the winding curves of the Kancamagus Highway in New Hampshire in the late fall of 2023, surrounded by towering trees ablaze with autumn hues, I found myself captivated by the name of this scenic route.

Kancamagus.

It rolled off the tongue with a rhythmic cadence, yet its origins remained shrouded in mystery to me. Intrigued, I pulled over at a scenic overlook and reached for my phone, intent on unraveling the story behind this enigmatic name.

Shockingly, I had signal.

A quick search led me down a historical rabbit hole, revealing a tale of betrayal and tragedy that stretched back centuries. The name Kancamagus, it turned out, was a tribute to a figure from New Hampshire's past.

In 1676, during the King Philip's War, tensions between English settlers and Native American tribes reached a boiling point. The Wampanoag tribe of southeastern New England, led by their sachem, Metacomet (also know as King Philip), rose up against the encroachment of English colonists on their lands. Amidst the chaos of war, Major Richard Waldron of Dover, NH, made a fateful decision that would forever stain his legacy.

Waldron, a wealthy landowner and magistrate, had cultivated a reputation for ruthless dealings with the indigenous peoples of the region. In an act of betrayal, he orchestrated a deceitful peace treaty with the Pennacook tribe of southern New Hampshire, luring them into a false sense of security.

But his treachery knew no bounds.

After signing peace treaties in 1676, Major Waldron betrayed the Pennacook tribe 2 months later by exploiting their trust.

He orchestrated the arrest and execution of several native refugees who had come to Cocheco under the pretense of safety, while imprisoning nearly 250 others, deepening animosity. This deceitful act sowed deep seeds of resentment.

In 1689, tensions flared once again, this time during the King William's war and led by a fierce Pennacook warrior named Kancamagus.

Kancamagus was the grandson of Passaconway and the nephew of Wanalancet, both supporters of peace and diplomacy with the English in the early days of colonization.

The Pennacooks, fueled by a desire for revenge after Waldrons betrayal, launched a devastating attack on the settlement of Dover in June of 1689, where Waldron held sway. Amidst the chaos, Waldron (as the main target) found himself captured by his former allies, and subjected to humiliation, torture and death.

As I read accounts of this harrowing ordeal, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine.

The serene beauty of the New Hampshire landscape seemed at odds with the horrors of its past. How many travelers, I wondered, passed through these tranquil forests without ever knowing the blood-soaked history that lay beneath?

With a heavy heart, I continued my journey along the Kancamagus Highway, haunted by the ghosts of centuries past. The towering trees held secrets of betrayal and retribution, their branches reaching out like accusing fingers pointing to the sky. The landscape, once so picturesque, now felt tinged with a sense of unease.

As I navigated each twist and turn of the winding road, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if the spirits of those long gone were still lingering in the shadows. The story of Richard Waldron, Kancamagus and the tragic fate of the Pennacook tribe served as a stark reminder of the dark underbelly of history, a whisper that the scars of the past run deep in the fabric of this land.

And so, as I drove on, I carried with me not only the beauty of the New Hampshire wilderness but also the weight of its untold stories, a reminder that even in the most idyllic of settings, the echoes of the past still linger, waiting to be heard.