Rediscovering Berlin, New Hampshire: A Journey Through History, Rumors, and the Great North Woods

11/12/2025

New Hampshire mountains along the Kancamagus Highway

I’ve traveled more than most, and yet I always find myself drawn back to my native state of New Hampshire, eager to explore the country roads and paths that others might not necessarily see or appreciate. When I last lived in the area, there was one northern city I had to get back to. As crazy as this would sound to anyone from the lower half of the state, Berlin was the goal.

Exploring Berlin, NH: A Forgotten Mill Town with New Life

Yes, that’s right, the capital of the Great North Woods. This is the same area where I’m currently finishing up my follow-up to Rusty Star. It’s where Russell Stokes investigates a double murder, in an area where people are rare and trees are mainstays, with riding trails crisscrossing the region for outside enthusiasts. Berlin is the hub of the action, not so much in my book, but it does get a comment or two, simply because there is one place in the city that took my breath away, that even now, years later, haunts my thoughts, and in Double Cross, Russell’s.

Let’s be real, we’re not talking about Berlin, the capital of Germany, the city that was left in ashes after World War II. No, we are talking about a much smaller fish, but an important one all the same. You need to understand that my Berlin, the one of my youth, was a mill city, and a place that was more mystery and myth than anything else.

History, Rumors, and the Roots of a Northern City

At St. Michael’s Catholic Church in Exeter, the whispers among the congregation were that Berlin was where they sent the bad ones, you know, those priests with reputations that weren’t befitting our domicile and economic prowess. If you dig a little deeper, it was also where the Manchester diocese would often send others for a form of exile out of the public eye. To find out why these priests were being exiled, you can ask the diocese for their official statement or denials. Sometimes, I wonder whether any of this was true, but that’s what was said on the benches before Mass or during the coffee and donuts gossip hour. Sometimes, we even talked about it from the confines of our homes.

The next time I heard of Berlin was when a classmate mentioned that he had family in that area and had just returned from a weekend of forced bonding. He likely mentioned something about four–wheeling. Still, since this was not something my family did for fun, I dismissed the comments as a hillbilly thing, not realizing that I was likely missing out on an incredible adventure.

Instead, thirteen-year-old me focused on the more interesting part of his tale — the unique smell that permeated the entire area. This wasn’t a comment about body odor, but the paper mills and the distinct scent of paper burning and churning in that part of the world. Let’s just say one side of the river has significantly nicer houses compared to the other. I wonder if that has more to do with being downwind or away from the scent, even to the point where dogs might not want to sniff.

I did some more digging, or asking around, to find out what was going on with this place. Was it worth visiting one day? Honestly, my family was worthless on this pursuit. Why would you want to go up there? My mom even said something like, “Don’t waste your time, Jonny. With the mills closing, there’s crime everywhere. A bunch of poor folk, and they have to pay more to entice good teachers to go up there.” I might have mentioned the new prison they built, but alas, with new jobs, it still didn’t solve the city’s misguided reputation. As President Biden would say, it was a bunch of malarky, but likely a combination of truth and misinformation.

Why Berlin Is Worth the Drive North

Orthodox Church in Berlin, New Hampshire

Berlin's Orthodox Church

What I know is that I never got to the city until my late thirties, when I ventured farther north to Pittsburg. Why it took so long was simply a matter of circumstances, and because it’s a long drive from the coast, or it seems as such. Perhaps it has more to do with getting distracted by other places. If you take Route 16, North Conway gets in the way, and that ski town vibe with train rides to boot is hard to pass up. Jump on the Kancamagus and you aren’t going north, but west towards the Lakes Region, where the mountains and all their beauty have been replaced with lakes and ponds that will leave you wanting more or to stay put.

It’s not that I didn’t want to visit Berlin, but why travel somewhere just to go for a three-hour drive, one way, if you can explore closer to home? That’s the truth of it, right? What eventually got me to visit the city wasn’t to refute the information of my youth, but circumstances. I wanted to hit a Walmart before a camping retreat on the Connecticut Lakes in New Hampshire’s northernmost town.

Come on now, if the city has a Walmart, and a pretty one at that, it can’t be that bad? Honestly, I do love their Walmart. I wish I were making this up, but the color brick they used, and the lot directly across the road from the river, has a welcoming energy that, for whatever reason, seems like a great wayward point to restock and get those provisions for your stay.

What you don’t realize after the Walmart run is that the only way north is through the city, and in turn, a glimpse into not only four wheelers and other UTVs sharing the roads, but a place that is undergoing revitalization, no longer defined as the paper mill town, but a hipster place and outdoor hub, perfect for launching into those adventures.

On this first trip, I simply drove through, but I made a note to return sooner rather than later. There was the route to Stark, home of a WW2 German POW camp, no less, that begged for attention. Come on, talk about some irony, yeah? The captured Germans were brought to the middle of nowhere in the logging capital of the state, and they were put in encampments within a short distance of Berlin. It’s like a bad joke. Sorry, guys, we know you miss your homeland, so let’s send you to another Berlin where you can’t hurt anyone. I’m sure many of them found the humor in it. Then again, many POWs remained in the area, and those very barracks are now converted homes, with only a distant memory of their wartime past.

The route I took on that drive was along the Androscoggin River. Once out of the city, that waterway is majestic, raw, and beautiful. It doesn’t take much for you to feel as though you are in the thick of a nature preserve, but really, it’s the entire region, with few people, and simply easy spots to pull over and trek across the bog, field, or forest to connect to the ancient tribal highway.

A few months later, I returned to Berlin, not this time for a city tour, but to visit an Orthodox Russian Church, of all things. That’s right, named after a German capital, no less, but this northern city at the time of the lumber boom was full of French Canadians and Russians. I imagine part of it was from the immigrant population after the fall of the Russian Empire, which brought many Orthodox to the area. I have no clue how they learned of the city, but then again, the Russians had an enclave south of Augusta, Maine, as well, so maybe it’s simply word of mouth after one family came to start a new life.

What I loved was seeing the familiar design of the church, with its distinctive onion shape, which I had also seen in Crimea and Yaroslavl during my studies. Who would have known that this would exist in New Hampshire? I wish I could say that I bought stock in Berlin at this point, and made it a point to explore it with the same veracity I would later on in my Polish travels, but alas, it was simply a visit to the church and then going home.

More years would pass, and after I returned to the area, this time to nearby Maine, I felt drawn to explore Berlin, to give the city its proper due. While I would love to share every little detail of that trip, in this case, I will share the vlog below for you to set aside some time to see this unique city through my eyes. You can appreciate why the area resonates with me and how the Catholic Church catalyzed this trip.

One step inside St. Anne’s made me appreciate the long journey, the years of speculation on the mystery that was Berlin, and how specifically, a historic interior, one I don’t believe there is a rival Stateside must have been a mainstay for their parishoners looking for purpose, family, and a connection, in between their long shifts at the mills and from their arduous wood cutting duties. I, for one, am glad I have found a reason to visit Berlin and hope in future visits to the state, I make the time to return. The city deserves the attention and an opportunity to show you why it’s worth the adventure, or even a future place to live.