New Hampshire

First stop, Gorham - at the top of White Mountain National Forest - a small town near countless hiking trails in the Presidential range, several spots for cross-country and downhill skiing, and the auto road and cog railway to the top of Mount Washington. The town, about a 3 1/2-hour drive from Boston and 30 miles north of the more well-known North Conway, also is home to Northern Forest Moose Tours ($15 adults, $10 kids 12 and younger), a minibus tour that follows Route 16 north to visit favorite haunts of these gentle giants. Run by the Northern White Mountain Chamber of Commerce, the tour has a 95 percent success rate of spotting moose, and even offers a raincheck if you don't see any.

Our ride, which lasted from 6 p.m. to almost 10 (so eat early) first took us through the ''Paper City,'' Berlin (pronounced BER-lin), and along the Androscoggin River. Over the years, Berlin Mills scientists patented more than 600 products, including paper towels and cooking shortening; today, the largest employer in the city is Crown Vantage Pulp & Paper Mills. The Northern Forest Heritage Park in Berlin offers mill tours and features an old-fashioned logging exhibit, and every August it hosts a popular logging competition and festival.

Because most moose activity is at night, we didn't really get down to business until almost dark. In New Hampshire, spotlights are allowed in the woods until Aug. 31. After that, mating season, or rutting, begins and ''illuminating'' wildlife is not allowed. Even with lights, it's not always easy to spot moose in the woods unless you catch their eyes, which reflect brightly. The key, of course, is to gravitate around the bogs, where moose like to muck about and feed off the vegetation. Popular moose bogs often are along the road, because the moose like a little salt with their meals.

During the bus tour, guide and driver taught us much about moose and even passed around an antler - weighing 65 pounds. Racks grow each year from May to December, then drop off, so keep your eyes open during winter hikes and you might find one. (Good luck fitting it in your backpack.)

One thing all moose tours have in common is the suspense. Will we see one? When? Where? After two hours of the guide shining the spotlight in the woods as we inched up and then back down the desolate stretch of highway - nothing. Not to be deterred, we headed back to Berlin and hit Success Road, just outside of town. It lived up to its name. We stopped at a roadside bog and the spotlight hit not one but three calves and a cow (female moose). We poured out of the van, popping photos left and right while dodging swooping bats. The moose didn't budge. Some locals drove by, telling us there were more moose just up the road, and so we walked the few feet up to the next bog and, sure enough, there were a cow and calf.

Luckily, my motel, the Town & Country Motor Inn in Shelburne, which borders Gorham, was open for dinner until 10 p.m. and I made it back just in time for a tasty victory dinner. First moose mission accomplished.

The next day included a lovely drive up Route 16 to Route 26 in Errol and over to Colebrook, then up Route 3 to Pittsburg. Not only did I pass many Moose Crossing signs, several of them said ''Active Moose Crossing.'' Those were at bogs clearly frequented by moose - hoofprints were on top of each other in the muck. Here I stayed at the Timberland Lodge & Cabins on First Connecticut Lake, about five miles north of town. Pittsurg is the state's largest town in area - about 360 square miles - and one of its most sparsely populated. It's bordered by Maine, Vermont, and Quebec, is unspoiled, unpretentious, and even primitive, at least for now. My squeaky-clean cabin was about 100 yards from the lake in as serene a setting as I could have hoped for.

Having arrived in early afternoon, I took what turned out to be a very wet bicycle ride along ''Moose Alley,'' Route 3 about 20 miles north to the Canadian border. I spotted no moose, but did see a deer. Bicycling was pleasant because of the low volume of traffic, but cars traveled quite fast and a few logging trucks barreled by. My hosts, Doug and Linda Feltmate, assured me I would see moose at some bogs about two miles north of the Timberland turnoff. I hardly saw a soul all day, but as soon as dusk hit, cars were driving up and down Moose Alley on the lookout. I decided to stick with one spot, and pulled out a lawn chair, a flashlight, and bug repellent - and the wait began. Sure enough, as soon as darkness began to fall, there was a rustle and there they were - a cow, a calf, and my first bull (male moose) sighting ever. They stayed near the back of the bog while folks who'd parked or were driving slowly by shone their high-power lights on them. Finally everyone got bored and left for others bogs, but I stayed put. I couldn't see a thing, and my little flashlight was useless more than a few feet away. Just gazing at the brilliant, star-laden sky and breathing in the fresh air was a delight. Then I heard the squishing sound of a moose walking through the bog. It stopped a few feet from me and proceeding to graze in a most noisy, unmannered fashion. It was exciting to be so close to such a huge beast and really listen to its sounds. Before long, a car with a spotlight inched by and suddenly there it was, illuminated - a huge bull moose with a marvelously wide rack just a few feet from my face. It looked up and I was awestruck. Friends later asked if I was scared. No, because moose don't naturally attack people, unless you disturb their mating or their offspring. Later that night, I lay on a dock at the Timberland, listened to the mournful cry of loons, and even saw the northern lights.

The next day I left Pittsburg, stopping in town to eat the best and biggest blueberry pancakes I've ever had at Mariah's Restaurant, connected to the general store. I missed the annual Moose Festival by two days. Held in Pittsburg, Colebrook, and neighboring Canaan, Vt., and sponsored by the North Country Chamber of Commerce, it features a moose calling contest, moose stew cook-off, guided moose tours, and of course a parade of ''mock moose''; i.e., locals in costume.

Going back south, I wended my way to The Balsams, spectacularly set in the mountains in Dixville Notch. At this grand resort I have to admit that I was more interested in the mousse than the moose, and saw more of the former as well. Not that there aren't moose in the area - one wandered into the Balsams' drained swimming pool in spring '98 and they had to lift it out with a crane. The resort, which follows the prix fixe American Plan Hospitality, began in 1866 as a summer inn. Now it can accommodate more than 400 guests and features skiing, golf, mountain biking, nature walks, and a host of other activities and cruise-ship type amenities. The food is exquisite, and the midday grand buffet, set out on a 100-foot-long table, attracts scores of visitors from miles around.

Published 05/23/99 in the Boston Suday Globe's Travel Section.