In 2004 through 2006 when we finally purchased the property, Rosslyn’s boathouse—a pleasure-promising peninsula from our perspective—mesmerized Susan and me with her beguiling siren song… What if we abandoned all sensibility and dove into this fantasy?!?!
Can’t do it! Redneck, city slicker, suburbanite, exurbanite, whatever… If you give this energetic summer anthem a second or two you’ll be hooked. Scoff if you need to. Turn up your nose if your tastes are too refined for the Redneck Yacht Club. But I’m gambling that the next time you hear it pumping out the window of a slow-passing pickup truck you’ll smile. And hum the chorus. And admit to yourself that it’s a pretty catchy tune.
Here’s a little taste of the chorus. Try to read it without singing/humming the melody. Just try!
Basstrackers, Bayliners and a party barge, strung together like a floating trailer park, anchored out and gettin loud. All summer long, side by side, there’s five houseboat, front porches astroturf, lawn chairs and tiki torches, regular Joes rocking the boat. That’s us, the redneck yacht club.
(CowboyLyrics.com)
See what I mean? So, your Chris Craft tastes don’t feel comfy with a song about Bayliners and party barges… So what? Stop judging and start bobbing your head!
I did.
You see, for the first year (or two?) that my bride and I were renovating/rehabilitating Rosslyn, Redneck Yacht Club played on always-on WOKO again and again. I don’t remember for sure, but I may have scoffed outwardly (and hummed inwardly) the first time I heard the song. But not the second. I laughed. I sang along. I went out and bought the album! Several years later, WOKO is no longer the default radio channel at Rosslyn, but I still hear the song from time to time. And when I do, it transports me instantly to the days of demolition, of surprises (mold, rot, bad electric, bad plumbing) and a mushrooming scope of work. It also takes me back to a house full of laughing contractors, rambling stories, off-color jokes and meals shared on sawhorses and upturned compound buckets.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Every once in a while I get lucky. A dramatic sunrise falling on mist. Gluten free, dairy free chocolate desert on a restaurant menu. A quick smile or pleasantries from a stranger. A dogeared but otherwise forgotten poem resurfacing, reconnecting, re-enchanting after many years…
Many of Eve Ticknor’s (aquavisions.me) watery photographs — especially when hinting of Essex, Lake Champlain, and even Rosslyn — belong in my ever burgeoning catalog of lucky experiences. I have shared Ticknor’s photographs before (Hammock Days of Indian Summer on September 18, 2013 and Eve Ticknor’s Boathouse Photos on June 23, 2014)
Eve’s photographs capture dreamy abstractions that don’t easily reveal their source. (Source: Rosslyn Redux)
The photograph above is a perfect example. It moves before your eyes like a mirage. What is it? A second photograph of the same scene helps demystify the subject.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Still stumped? That hypnotic labyrinth of squiggly lines is the key, but the two vertical, shaded columns are helpful too. If you’re still stumped, here’s a third photograph that will decipher the abstract beauty in the previous two photographs.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Eve explores refracted and reflected images on the surface of water, never using Photoshop or filters to alter her images. What we see is what she saw. And yet she succeeds in capturing all sorts of whimsical illusions on the water surface. (Rosslyn Redux)
In addition to the mysteries woven into Eve Ticknor’s photographs, I’m also drawn to her “earthy” palette. She often captures rich, nuanced colors in her work, but there’s a muted, organic hue that I find refreshing in today’s super-saturated world of digital photography and pumped up filters. That third image above is especially rich in color and tone, so many putties and heavy contrasts. It strikes me as painterly and meditative in a way that so many crisp, high definition, copies of reality are not.
I’ll conclude with one last hauntingly beautiful images from friend and photographer Eve Ticknor. It is a glimpse over the shoulder of Rosslyn’s boathouse toward the Essex ferry docks pilings, the entire scene veiled in gossamer moodiness. Thank you, Eve!
Rosslyn Boathouse and Essex Ferry Dock Pilings (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
I’ve just received a lovely email from local artist and friend Eve Ticknor (aquavisions.me) with four soothing images of our boathouse. Eve’s dreamy boathouse photos last appeared in “Hammock Days of Indian Summer” last September.
Her new series offers a seasonal bookend to the last set. “Spring!” the photos sing soothingly. “Springing into summer. Soon. But for now, still spring…”
What your boathouse porch looks like in my world. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
You can see your boathouse better here now. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Your boathouse on a more glassy day. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
It’s an incredible gift when I receive artwork inspired by Rosslyn, and I offer my deepest thanks to Eve (and all of the other generous artists who’ve shared their creative visions with me) for allowing Rosslyn to a-muse you.
While I was waiting for the ferry! (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
In addition to the boathouse photos, Eve included this enchanting image of a duckling family paddling along between the Essex ferry dock and the boathouse. They seem to have swum directly out of a patina’ed storybook!
Before I even realize it I’ve counted the ducklings. Today there are twelve remaining, twelve significantly larger and less fluffy adolescent ducks. I imagine a few ducklings fell prey to eagles or snapping turtles. Or perhaps they swapped momma ducks to join a smaller brood? My mind wanders to the the many perils ducklings face on their sprint to duckdom.
Piece-by-Piece: fabricating post bases for Rosslyn’s boathouse railings (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
As temperatures drop and winter weather threatens, Peter and Supi are toiling against the onset of winter. They’re taking advantage of shop work when possible, fabricating post bases — piece-by-piece — painstaking duplicating our boathouse‘s existing post and railing details while ensuring the most hardy, weatherproof construction possible to ensure the longevity of these handsome architectural elements that will be installed in the most challenging conditions on the entire Rosslyn property. It takes master craftsman to to marry these delicate aesthetic details with such a demanding, punishing environment. And there is no other way to describe the conditions endured by the boathouse and the boathouse gangway.
The trim molding is being shaped, one router pass after the other to match the existing details. These will then be secured to the railing posts above the bases being fabricated below. Piece-by-piece the carpenters are transforming a vision into a railing. And today sections have been handed off to Erin who has begun installing the first coat of primer to cure, be re-sanded and re-primed. Once primers are properly cured we will begin to paint, again building up to well cured coats in a controlled, heated environment so that when these elements finally reach their destination along the shore of Lake Champlain, they will be not only beautiful, but well protected from the Adirondack Coast winter elements.
Piece-by-Piece: fabricating post bases for Rosslyn’s boathouse railings (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
Piece-by-Piece Mashup
In keeping with the spirit of previous updates, here’s a quick remix of Peter and Supi’s painstaking, piece-by-piece post base fabrication for the historic rehabilitation of Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway railing.
Morning Meander, June 12, 2018 (Source: Geo Davis)
My best days at Rosslyn start with a mellow morning meander to the waterfront to watch the sun rise up out of the Green Mountains. Or to the vegetable gardens and orchard to pick fresh fruit while sipping my tea. Or around the property inspecting flower beds and deadheading peonies or whatever else has bloomed and withered.
And by my side, my Labrador Retriever. In our early days at Rosslyn, our dog (and my early-morning companion) was Tasha, an almost snow white Lab who passed away as we neared the final significant phase of Rosslyn’s rehabilitation. Tasha was buried beneath a maple tree that she frequented for, well, shall we say, her morning and evening rituals.
Griffin joined our family after Tasha, and he turned ten years old this spring. It hardly seems possible. How did a puppy who so recently chewed up the trim (just as soon as the finish carpenters and painters finished) rocket into the early weeks of his second decade?!?!
Griffin was with me during my morning meander this past Tuesday, June 12. He too loves early morning but for different reasons than I, so my sunrise saunter was brief enough for me to get back inside and make his breakfast before he fainted from starvation…
It was such a mesmerizing effect that I wandered around in the early light watching the morning unfold in duplicate. Here’s a snapshot that I posted on Sailing Errant.
Lake Champlain offered up this morning mirror today. Errant reflected… (Source: Sailing Errant)
The length, breadth, and depth of the greatest of American lakes (Yes, I’m partial!) ensures that perfectly glass flat mornings are few and far between. But when we’re lucky enough to witness one, it feels like slipping into a magnificent Technicolor dream.
I’ve just concluded a Champlain Area Trails (CATS) board meeting on a high note. Or, to be more precise, a fellow board member finished the meeting on a high note by handing me this handsome painting of our boathouse during drier times.
Bill Amadon — Essex based gardener, trail builder and painter — has created several other romantic images that adorn Rosslyn’s walls, but the timing for this image couldn’t have better. After a difficult week of record-breaking Lake Champlain water levels flooding Rosslyn’s boathouse, Amadon’s painting reminds us of the structure’s past and future. Soggy today, this weather-worn icon will endure long into the future.
Today I noticed Amadon photographing the flooded boathouse before our meeting. I wonder if he’ll memorialize the flood with another beautiful painting. And if so, hopefully we’ll be able to look back on the history making floods of 2011 with nostalgia. But for now, we’re still struggling to get through the high water risks. This morning my bride and Doug Decker, the carpenter-turned-jack-of-all-trades-handyman who caretakes Rosslyn removed about 2,000 pounds of waterlogged driftwood, tree trunks and miscellaneous debris floating from our waterfront.
As we pack our bags for four days in the Utah desert, our feelings have been mixed. On the one hand, we welcome the escape from rain and flooding. On the other, we depart with heavy hearts, anxious with the knowledge that we won’t be here to intervene if the wind picks up and the waves begin to batter the submerged boathouse and shoreline. A 40-50 foot tree with a trunk almost 18″ thick lurks just south of the boathouse, too heavy and too entangled in shoreline brush to be removed. Heavy winds out of the south could dislodge the tree and heave it repeatedly against the boathouse. The damage would be grave. Or a heavy wind out of the east could further erode the banks that are already badly undermined and failing. Large trees are at risk of collapsing into the lake, and the pavement of Route 22 which runs above the bank is already cracking as the lakeside begins to collapse.
These are the worries. These are the anxieties. And yet we are leaving. Our trip had been scheduled long before the floods, and we’re unable to change or cancel them. And we’re both suspicious that the desert may be just the antidote to this soggy saga. So we throw ourselves upon the mercy of nature and our friends to preserve our property.
Doug will spend the days until we return on Monday evening working upstairs in the boathouse, finishing trim woodwork and oiling the fir beadboard. He’ll be able to keep a close watch on the wind and waves and debris. If circumstances threaten, he will attempt to remedy the problem by redirecting or removing logs. Or by resecuring materials that are loosened by the waves. If conditions worsen further, several friends have offered to come and help out. In short, our friends and neighbors are lending a hand. So we can depart tomorrow morning confident that those who care about us, those who care about the boathouse and property will intervene if needed.
Amadon’s painting provided just the confidence boost I needed to board the plane, a memory rekindled for what the boathouse looked like in the past and what it will hopefully look like again this summer. Thanks to all who’ve helped us through this experience!
Nor’easter Neige: boathouse, February 4, 2021 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Nor’easter delivered 10-12” of fluffy powder to our stretch of the Adirondack Coast, and it sure looks postcard perfect. Or, almost postcard perfect…
Any idea what’s just shy of midwinter Adirondack Coast perfection? Look at the water beyond the boathouse.
It’s February and Lake Champlain is still wide open. No ice. It seems that this has increasingly become the new normal. Open water in February. It certainly does challenge skaters!
Nor’easter Neige: carriage barn and icehouse, February 4, 2021 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
But, of course, rotating 180° and looking West the unfrozen lake vanishes and winter wonderland is assured. Time to strap on hbd cross-country skis and head out to Rosslyn’s fields and forests. Come along!
Crib Dock more and more exposed in front of Rosslyn boathouse. (September 12, 2016)
Whether you call it climate change, “nature’s sense of humor”, or something else, Lake Champlain’s water level is raising eyebrows. Back in 2011 we experienced the highest lake levels in recorded history. Five years later lake levels are flirting with the lowest record.
The highest recorded level at the gage in Burlington was 103.27 feet above mean sea level on May 6, 2011.The minimum lake level observed in Burlington was 92.61 feet above mean sea level on December 4, 1908. (Source: USGS Lake Gage at ECHO)
As of today (September 14, 2016) Lake Champlain is 94.07 feet above see level. Lake Champlain has dropped just over four feet since this spring’s not-so-high high, and an annual drop of about five feet (from spring to late autumn) is normal.
In other words, we’re unlikely to break the all time record for Lake Champlain’s lowest recorded water level, but it’s not impossible. And yet, record-busting aside, this is by far the lowest lake levels we’ve witnessed since purchasing Rosslyn, and by far our best chance to study the old crib dock extending out into the lake from Rosslyn’s boathouse.
Crib Dock Brainstorms
When we first imagined ourselves living at Rosslyn, we mostly daydreamed about the waterfront. And while the boathouse was the most enticing component of the waterfront, the former docks/piers interested us as well. We’re avid boaters, and we hoped that one or the other of the old crib docks would be recoverable so that we could enjoy convenient access to our boats.
Although neither of us can quite believe it, a decade has already snuck past since we first took ownership of Rosslyn. Ten years of gradual renovation, revitalization, rehabilitation,… And yet, many of the projects on our original punch list continue to be deferred.
For a variety of reasons restoring one of Rosslyn’s historic docks has eluded us so far. But this summer’s incredibly low water level has resuscitated our hopes that one day we’ll be able to transition from the aluminum docks we’ve been using to a refurbished crib dock pier. In recent weeks my imagination has been running wild, scheming up simple, practical solutions to the challenge of repairing a failing/failed crib dock.
I’ll post again with more detailed photographs of the crib dock in front of boathouse since it’s the most recently extant of the historic piers, and I will also find older photographs of the dock to better show what it used to look like. Until then I’d like to share some intriguing excerpts from a story produced by Brian Mann for NCPR back in December 1, 2014, How a North Country family harnessed an Adirondack river. Mann took an insightful look at a dam on the St. Regis River that was rebuilt by Wadhams resident and hydropower guru, Matt Foley, along with his brother-in-law, and nephew.
While the St. Regis crib dam is an altogether different beast than the crib dock in front of our boathouse, both are simple but sound timber and stone structures that post similar reconstruction challenges. I’ll share my current idea anon, but first I offer you several relevant riffs from Mann’s story.
Historic, Hyperlocal Crib Dam Rebuild
With the temporary coffer dam (on the left) diverting the St. Regis River, a local crew laid in a crib of tamarack logs stuffed and weighted with rock and boulders. (Source: NCPR)
This summer [2014], a family that owns hydro-dams in Essex and Franklin counties rebuilt the historic log dam [in St. Regis Falls] using local labor and materials. Using 19th century techniques, the Smiths and the Foleys preserved a dam that generates power and creates an important impoundment on the St. Regis River…
“We went to old books [Emmett Smith said]. We went to books from the turn of the century about how you build wooden timber crib dams.”
The last couple of years it was clear this structure needed to be replaced entirely after decades of floods and ice, partial repairs just weren’t cutting it any more. The family tried to find financing for a concrete dam, but that would have cost three or four times as much and the money just wasn’t there. So they went back to tradition, using native wood and stone…
Building the dam this way meant they could use local materials. But they could also use local guys. Crews from the North Country built the big stone coffer dam to divert the river while the log dam was rebuilt. They milled the big tamarack logs and hauled the rock…
Emmett says building this way was necessity. “Us doing it together and building this log structure in a traditional way is pastoral, but we didn’t do it this way for the poetry of it. It was a question of cost. This is the only way we could do it. This was the cheapest way we could do it. It had to happen now and the price of power is so low that this was the only way it was going to get done.”
[…]
There was a time when they did consider letting this dam go. There were so many hurdles, so many risks, and so little certainty of reward. But Matt Foley says rebuilding was important for the family and for the community of St. Regis Falls.
“This dam has a pond that’s six miles long with twelve dozen houses on it and big wetlands,” he says. “So in addition to our generating plant, the town people here have a vested interest in having a dam here.” (Source: How a North Country family harnessed an Adirondack river | NCPR News)
Takeaways
I’ve promised to share my current thinking (as well as some past/present photos) soon, but for now I’d like to close by highlighting a few points that resonated with me.
a traditional (i.e. “old school”) repair/rebuild would be preferable to a new dock;
even a quasi-traditional hybrid would preferable to replacing historic crib dock with a modern alternative;
local lumber, stone, and labor would be more historic, more aesthetically pleasing, more affordable, more positively impactful to the community, etc.;
pastoral and practical are not mutually exclusive; and
we’ve almost been convinced to give up hope of rehabilitating Rosslyn’s crib dock because there are “so many hurdles, so many risks, and so little certainty of reward”, but we’re not ready to abandon the dream.
I’m still brainstorming, and each time I settle on a possible solution, I’m beset with further challenges. If clever ideas are swimming in your heard, chime in! I’d love to learn from you.
Moody Rosslyn boathouse award!?!? I believe that Santa Fe native, Terrell White, may well have painted the most unique and evocative portrait of Rosslyn’s boathouse ever. Ben White, a former student from my brief tenure as a teacher and coach at Santa Fe Preparatory School (1996-9) reached out to me a while ago — how in the world does time slip-slide so swiftly downstream? — with this moody painting inspired by our historic dock house located just north of the Essex ferry dock.
My dad paints a few times a week. He’s always looking for inspiration, and I showed him a picture of your boathouse. Think it came out pretty good! ~ Ben White
The uncanny overlap between my various worlds and life phases tickled me. And the stunning image thrilled me!
Quite a few years have whooshed past since I last connected with Ben’s father. Life happened. Friendly follow-up slipped into the morass of busyness. Years came. Years went.
Until today. Something triggered the memory of this painting. I’ve managed to dug it up. And now it’s yours to enjoy. Let’s raise a cup full of fermented cheer to Terrell White for inventing the moodiest (and the most cinematographic) rendering of Rosslyn’s dock house to ever flit across my radar. I would love to capture a higher resolution photograph or scan of this singular painting, but until then, this curiously cropped digital will do.
Now it’s time to dig through old address books to see if I can reconnect with Terrell White. Stay tuned…
Rosslyn Boathouse, Circa 1907 (Source: vintage postcard with note)
It’s time travel Tuesday! Gazing through the time-hazed patina of this vintage postcard I’m unable to resist the seductive pull of bygone days. Whoosh!
I tumble backward through a sepia wormhole, settling into the first decade of the 20th century. It’s 1907 according to the postal stamp on the rear of this postcard.
Back of Rosslyn Boathouse Postcard
Eleven decades ago a man rowed a boat past Rosslyn’s boathouse, from north to south, through waves larger than ripples and smaller than white caps. It was a sunny day in mid-to-late summer, judging by the shoreline water level. A photographer, hooded beneath a dark cloth focusing hood, leans over behind his wooden tripod, adjusting pleated leather bellows, focus, framing. And just as the rower slumps slightly, pausing to catch his breath, the shutter clicks and the moment is captured.
Perhaps this is the photographer who memorialized Rosslyn boathouse more than a century ago?
Albumen print of a photographer with Conley Folding Camera circa 1900. (Source: Antique and Classic Cameras)
There’s so much to admire in this photograph-turned-postcard. Rosslyn boathouse stands plumb, level, and proud. Probably almost two decades had elapsed since her construction, but she looks like an unrumpled debutante. In fact, aside from the pier, coal bin, and gangway, Rosslyn boathouse looks almost identical today. Remarkable for a structure perched in the flood zone, ice flow zone, etc.
I’m also fond of the sailboat drifting just south of Rosslyn boathouse. Raised a sailor, one my greatest joys in recent years has been owning and sailing a 31′ sloop named Errant that spends the summer moored just slightly north of its forebear recorded in this photo.
Although the pier and the massive coal bin in front of the boathouse are no longer there, they offer a nod to Samuel Keyser‘s stately ship, the Kestrel, for many summers associated with Rosslyn boathouse.
Kestrel at Rosslyn boathouse in Essex, NY
Other intriguing details in this 1907 photo postcard of Rosslyn boathouse include the large white sign mounted on the shore north of the boathouse (what important message adorned this billboard?); the presence of a bathhouse upslope and north of the boathouse (today known as the Green Frog and located on Whallons Bay); and the slightly smudged marginalia referring to a small white skiff pulled ashore slightly south of the boathouse (what is the back story?).
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn boathouse while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome!
More good news on Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway repair project: redecking is complete. The necessary mechanical adjustments were made, sleeper joists were properly flashed, decking was consistently spaced, the correct number of posts were installed in a structurally sound manner, and the redecking was actually completed. Eureka!
It’s a pleasure and a privilege to celebrate yet another accomplishment by Peter Vaiciulis and Sia Supi Havosi. After the previous team’s parade of missteps and setbacks last fall, winter, and spring, it’s been a tremendous relief to be able to share positive progress report after positive progress report this fall. Peter and Supi have proceeded thoughtfully and responsibly ever since they joined us. They’re organized and methodical, detail oriented and communicative. And their expertise is enabling a remarkable recovery from a lost year and rescuing this historic landmark from its precarious status last spring.
Let’s wrap up with a ultra short mashup of the final phase of redecking.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Clur5p3A4Oo/
Thank you, R.P. Murphy and Peter Vaiciulis, for your photo documentation!
Rosslyn Boathouse (Source: Geo Davis)[/caption]
