Revisiting my mid-March boathouse illustration as a black and white watercolor. Aaahhh… the magic of digital! (Source: Geo Davis)
Back on March 28, 2022 I shared a whimsical boathouse illustration including some of my creation process. At the time I conceived of the exercise as a way to exercise my rudimentary watercolor abilities while enticing the universe to hasten the spring-to-summer transition. Verdict is out on whether or not my efforts wooed the universe. But the practice was a pleasure, and I’m resolving to make time for more watercolor illustrations this autumn and winter.
You can click the back/forward arrows in the original Instagram post below to see some of the pre-finished phases.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cbqit9bOz6P/
B&W vs. Color Boathouse Illustration
So why revisit this potently pigmented image with achromatic ambitions?
I’ve been experimenting for about a decade with black and white as a visual storytelling medium (carpemidlife.com and @carpemidlife). It’s part of a larger project stretching my comfort with creative risk — in poetry, essay, and storytelling and in photographs, collage, illustration, mixed media mashups, and even a little bit of video — as a way to repurpose midlife malaise into midlife motivation. One of the early decisions I made for focusing and structuring the project was restricting all image-making (and writing, for that matter) to black and white. We live in an era of magnificent digital imaging, stunning verisimilitude, oversaturated colors, and a panoply of intelligent filters, algorithms, etc. to augment reality.
Make no mistake. I’m profoundly grateful to experience these magnificent modern advances in image making, but I find myself missing the granularity and character of the analog world. I explore this more at Carpe Midlife if provoked your curiosity. If not, I’ll return to the present context.
So often in our sweet sixteen years as the stewards of Rosslyn, I’m drawn to the juxtaposition of old and new. In many respects rehabilitating Rosslyn and making our life here has blurred past, present, and future. History is alive. And similarly much of our quotidian existence is timeless. There’s a whimsical simultaneity of lives and times that infiltrates our lakeside lifestyle. And rather than resist it, I often find it enriching, even entertaining. And so I’ve come to playfully experiment, sometimes renovating that which is vintage or antique. Others times I accelerate aging. Or agelessness. And sometimes these shifts in perspective yield surprising, often refreshing new experiences.
I was curious to see what might happen by repurposing a colorful new illustration as a colorless facsimile. Stripping away the cheerful colors, what remains? Is it an anemic phantom image? Does the emphasis change? The feeling?
In my opinion there’s a world of difference between what I notice visually and what I feel internally in response to the black and white boathouse illustration at the top of this page and the color-soaked original below. What do you think?
Original boathouse illustration watercolored cheerfully in hopes of hastening grey spring into technicolor summer! (Source: Geo Davis)
From Boathouse-lust to Wonder-lust
If you’re a longtime reader and you’re detecting a subtle shift in some of these recent blog and social media posts, you’re not wrong. You’re perceptive.
There is a shift underway. Like so many whose views and lifestyles have evolved over the last couple of years — pandemic year and post-pandemic year (if we’re bold enough to assume the latter) — Susan and I have new stories to share about Rosslyn. We’re navigating a liminal space that is still unfurling it’s mysteries for us. As we find our way, I’ll share the experience. With a little luck, we will share the experience.
But for now, I just want to acknowledge that this period of introspection and reflection and significant transition for us is undoubtedly woven into posts like this one. Sometimes familiarity and comfort are exactly what we need. And sometimes wondering and wandering away from the familiar and the comfortable can be just as important.
Vintage boathouse postcard? Or not? (Source: Geo Davis)
Is this a vintage postcard or a recent photograph taken from the ferry dock in Essex, New York?
If you guessed that the image is contemporary, you’re right. It was taken on 29 May 2017. Born a moody, slightly fuzzy phone shot but reborn a tango dancing, filter-upon-filter-upon-filtered vintage postcard wannabe. Or something…
Photograph of Essex artist Bill Amadon (and his dog) walking/photographing on frozen Lake Champlain.
I spied Bill Amadon,(billamadon.com) an Essex artist and good friend, walking around on the frozen lake in front of our boathouse a few days ago. The lighting and distance made identification a little dodgy but the dog was hint #1 and a conversation with Bill the day prior (at the Essex Post Office where so many mid-winter encounters occur) was hint #2.
Bill mentioned that he was working on a series of three commissioned paintings, and that he was hoping to make it out onto Lake Champlain early the following morning to capture the waterfront in early morning light. He needed the photos to research the third and final painting in the series.
My suspicions were confirmed when a short while later Bill Amadon posted the following images to his Facebook page. He generously permitted me to showcase the photographs here. Enjoy!
Beggs Point in Essex by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Essex by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Old Dock in Essex (Source: Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015)
Essex ferry dock by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Rosslyn boathouse by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Rosslyn boathouse by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Frozen Lake Champlain by Bill Amadon, March 13, 2015
Peter Vaiciulis and Sia Supi Havosi Repairing Boathouse Pier Cladding (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This week promises challenges (and hopefully progress) aplenty, so I’ll quickly recap progress on Rosslyn’s boathouse repairs made Peter Vaiciulis and Sia Supi Havosi with a photo essay. I’ll try to step aside and let the photos do the talking with respect to replacing the gangway posts and recladding the pier where old hemlock timbers have worked themselves free over the years.
In the photo above Peter and Supi are tackling the south side of the boathouse pier. Unlike Opud (aka “over promise, under deliver”), the fellow who got in way over his head on this project last year, Peter and Supi have been monitoring the lake conditions and opted to fast-track the cladding before lake level, temperature, etc. made it unpleasant and unsafe. This level of planning and organization certainly is refreshing after the series of miscalculations and delays last year.
In the photo above you can see missing hemlock timbers in the south side of the boathouse pier, and in the photo below you see the newly installed, locally milled 2×6 hemlock timbers after installation.
Similar patching was necessary on the north side of the boathouse and gangway piers as well.
Replacing Boathouse Gangway Posts and Pier Cladding (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Missing Timbers down low near the beach are evident in the image above. Below they e been replaced.
Replacing Boathouse Gangway Posts and Pier Cladding (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Also visible are some of the newly replaced posts. All of the posts and the majority of the substructure repairs made last year had to be removed and replaced due to miscalculations in safety / structural integrity as well as subpar workmanship. Although we have tried to focus on forging a positive path forward rather than dwelling on setbacks, we did document the missteps now being rectified, and I will most likely dedicate a post to them in the future in the hopes of illustrating for others how to avoid similar mistakes. For now I would prefer to celebrate progress and quality workmanship rather than dwelling on a fortunately fading fiasco.
Posts on the south side of the gangway have been re-engineered and replaced as well. Multiple posts from which the gates were previously mounted — mysteriously overlooked and skipped during installation by Opud’s team despite Pam catching the mistake and reminding them that they needed to be replaced as they originally were — are now back in place as necessary. And electrical changes unfortunately had to be made as well in order to accommodate the proper relocation and installation of the missing and misplaced posts.
Replacing Boathouse Gangway Posts and Electrical (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The photo above indicates an example of the electrical changes. Once the erroneous posts were removed, substructure re-engineered properly, new posts relocated to their correct locations, and missing posts added back as per original, the wiring for LED lighting was no longer correct and had to be updated. New conduit, new wiring, etc.
One of the interesting discoveries made by Peter while reinstalling the gangway posts is apparent in the photo above (and even more evident in the photo below.)
Peter Vaiciulis Replacing Boathouse Gangway Posts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Peter is holding a level next to the post closest to the southwest corner of the boathouse emphasizing the discrepancy between the plumb post and the out-of-plumb corner of the circa 1889 building. These are the sorts of interesting challenges confronted all of the time when rehab’ing old buildings. And finding suitable, even optimal solutions is perennially rewarding!
Fabricating Boathouse Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
It’s time for a progress report on Rosslyn’s boathouse post fabrication. Peter Vaiciulis and Sia Supi Havosi have been beavering away lakeside as autumn blurs into winter. Unfortunately, their decking progress has been stalled because the moisture content of the lumber is still too high. In contrast to the previous contractor whose work required extensive remediation, Peter is prudently allowing the decking sufficient acclimatizing and drying time to rnsure stabilization (and to ensure that we don’t once again wind up with inconsistent gaps ranging from 1/8” to 7/8”). In the mean time, Peter and Supi headed inside to shop-fabricate components for the post and railing system.
Successful repair of the boathouse posts and railings started with dissecting and documenting the existing conditions, deciphering the *how* and *why* of the existing conditions, and executing a meticulous rebuild with discreetly integrated improvements to function, structure, and endurance ensuring safety and longevity despite the challenging location and harsh environment.
Supi Sanding Boathouse Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
Supi is sanding a post wrap that will get installed over the structural posts that have already been integrated (correctly this time!) into the substructure.
Peter Chamfering Boathouse Post Wraps (Photo: Sia Supi Havosi)
Chamfering edges along the midsection of the post wraps, Peter has clamped stops on either end to standardize the offsets. He’s replicating the design that we developed about fifteen years ago during our original rehabilitation of the boathouse, gangway, and waterfront access stairway. This subtle but comely detail that we included in similar situations elsewhere in Rosslyn’s four historic buildings, offers a practical benefit in this waterfront location where waterskis, surfboards, windsurfers, etc. are quick to nick sharp corners. The eased edge is also friendlier to shins and knees usually protected with little more than bathing suits in this area.
Chamfered Boathouse Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
Up close and personal with the post wraps. Note the chamfered midsections and wood filler curing for Peter and Supi to sand.
Supi Priming Boathouse Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
After wood filler cures and sanding is complete Supi begins priming the post wraps. Because of the intense weather changes — from rainstorms and dramatic temperature fluctuations in the summertime to snow, ice, and deep freezing in the winter — that the boathouse gangway posts and railing will endure, two coats of primer (including concealed end grain, etc.) and two coats of exterior paint will be installed in the shop. Although some touchups will be necessary during and after installation, this will streamline the late season installation and improve long term weatherproofing.
Although historic rehabilitation took place a decade and a half ago, the lakeside location accounts for the accelerated deterioration of Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway, posts, and railings. This go-round we’ve been able to tweak a few mechanics based on previous performance, hopefully improving performance and extending the useful life of these repairs to 20+ years. Even though Opud’s disastrous attempt last year cost us dearly in time, expense, safety, and usability over the summer, Peter and Supi’s rebuild is superior through and through, ultimately affording us solace after a year of headaches.
Let’s wrap up with a mashup of the dissected, well documented prototype guiding Peter and Supi’s repairs.
Essex Ferry to Vermont (Photo: Ray and Linda Faville)
Great photograph! That “Essex Ferry to Vermont” sign is posted at the entrance to the Essex-Charlotte ferry dock located two houses and one library south of Rosslyn. That’s our boathouse in the center of the image.
I came across this charming Essex image on the Essex Shipyard’s website, so it was most likely photographed by Linda or Ray Faville who run the marina and restaurant. We’ve enjoyed many memorable (and tasty!) evenings at Chez Lin & Rays over the last couple of summers, and Errant – my Catalina 310 – is in the marina’s “home fleet”.
If you’re unfamiliar with the Faville’s welcoming waterside establishment, here’s a better introduction.
Essex Shipyard was recently renovated to provide boaters with safe, modern and convenient services. The bulkheads and harbor walls were raised and rebuilt after the historic floods in 2011. New floating docks, electric & water services have been installed. Boaters staying at the Essex Shipyard for the season or for a day or two, enjoy calm water (no matter how rough the Lake gets), comfortable slips, modern amenities and spectacular views of the Green Mountains, Adirondacks and Lake Champlain. (Essex Shipyard)
Essex Ferry to Vermont
For a great many travelers passing through town that sign just about sums up Essex, New York. Ever since the early 1800s Essex has been vital as a gateway to Lake Champlain. Long ago it was an important port for shipbuilding, and later for the North-South transport of raw materials and merchants’ goods. Nowadays the ferry East-West across the lake is the vital link that draws many visitor to our otherwise quiet streets.
[pullquote]Ever since the early 1800s Essex has been vital as a gateway to Lake Champlain.[/pullquote]It’s a common refrain among residents. “I discovered Essex when I was taking the ferry.” While it’s not our personal connection to the area, there is something appealing to me about passers-through becoming enchanted with the historic architecture, the gentle rhythms, the magnificent outdoor recreation opportunities, the views. Often while traveling the globe my bride and I muse about what it would be like to settle a while in one beguiling spot or another. We recently returned from a pair of weeks in France and Sicily. There were many such moments. Daydreams. “What if?” scenarios teased out verbally, half serious, imagining, wondering…
The Essex Ferry to Vermont delivers a steady stream of curious drivers. They stop and wander, snap photographs, shop or eat a meal. Sometimes they wonder what it would be like to live here. A few return to find out.
Moonrise over Lake Champlain with Rosslyn boathouse in foreground
Last night’s moonrise over the Vermont foothills (south of the Green Mountains) was absolutely sensational! The moon started out fat and orange as it made a dramatic appearance. My bride and I first spied the moon over Lake Champlain while driving home to Essex from Willsboro after dining at Johnny’s Smokehouse. Breathtaking. And elusive because it kept disappearing behind the trees.
Filming the Moon over Lake Champlain
Once we arrived home, I grabbed a camera and headed down to the waterfront where I tried to capture — albeit in blurry facsimile — the less orange and smaller but still exquisite orb shimmering across Lake Champlain. The view in this video was shot from the flood damaged but finally dry waterfront of our home in Essex, New York. You can see the Essex ferry dock where the Essex-Charlotte ferry delivers and picks up passengers, and the Old Dock Restaurant is even slightly visible beyond the illuminated ferry gallows. Rosslyn’s boathouse is silhouetted in the foreground with a Lake Champlain moon beam inviting you to begin enjoying summer after Lake Champlain floods put such a damper on the first half of June.
Lake Champlain Flood Update
As of this morning, the USGS website reports that the Lake Champlain water level has fallen to 100.33 feet. Most of the bottom terrace of the waterfront is now water free, except for where flooding damaged the stone retaining wall and eroded the lawn. This weekend we’ll remove the remaining debris and begin to repair the damage. We’re still waiting to hear what New York State has decided about stabilizing the embankment and repairing the road, so we’ll need to hold off on significant repairs in the area where NYS Route 22 (aka Essex Road or Lakeshore Road) collapsed at the end of May. But hopefully by next week we’ll be able to start windsurfing and possibly even install the boat lift and docks so that our ski boat can be launched. A late start to summer, but hard won!
Rosslyn’s boathouse was flooded and severely damaged in 1983. (Source: Dianne Lansing)
You may have noticed that my blog posts are sporadic. Sometimes a post almost writes itself, exploding into the blogosphere as if channeled from the universe itself. Other times lengthy lapses betray my distracted dithering. Today’s soggy sentiments fall into the latter category.
Nevertheless, it’s a shame that more than two years have come and gone since Essex neighbor and friend Dianne Lansing sent me that sorrowful photograph of our boathouse succumbing to Lake Champlain‘s bullying. Shame on me!
Here are a few excerpts from my exchange with Dianne during the 2015 winter/spring.
Dianne Lansing: All those mallards are hoping you will turn on your bubbler as the ice is closing in on them and they really don’t want to leave. I was surprised to find them in my yard under the oak tree eating acorns a couple of afternoons. Never knew that could be part of their diet…
Geo Davis: What a wonderful (and horrifying) photograph of Rosslyn’s boathouse! Thank you for digging it up and passing it along. Did you take the photograph? Do you recollect the back story? Normal spring flooding? Is this what prompted George McNutly’s mid-1980s boathouse rebuild (when LCT’s crane barge, Miss Piggy) assisted?
Dianne Lansing: Glad you liked the photo… I don’t know if I took the photo or David [Dianne’s husband, David Lansing] did. Probably me but I don’t remember any of it. Don’t recall seeing the boat house in such disrepair. I’m pretty sure, however, that it was ‘normal’ spring flooding as I don’t recall any other event that would have caused the roof to collapse. I’m glad you have restored it to its former glory…
Geo Davis: Thank you! A wonderful gift and ominous warning to always act as responsible stewards of that quirky little building. I’ll credit both of you, and we’ll let posterity sort it out.
While it pains me to see Rosslyn boathouse underwater (and collapsing!), it’s a reminder that we’ve made some headway over the last eleven years. There’s never any guarantee, and I’m well aware that flooding could bring the pretty boathouse to her knees once again. But I’m optimistic. After all, it beats worrying!
Thanks again, Dianne, for this bittersweet illustration of Rosslyn boathouse’s wet-dry-wet-dry heritage. Fingers crossed that we won’t repeat history any time soon.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
One of the great joys in owning Rosslyn these last 15 years (hard to believe it’s been a decade and a half since we purchased our Essex home from Elizabeth and George McNulty!) has been discovering the memorabilia of those who’ve come before us. So many Rosslyn memories, stories, and artifacts. Today I’d like to introduce you to the Keuhlen family who vacationed at the Sherwood Inn in August 1951.
Almost three years ago I was contacted by Phillip Keuhlen via the Rosslyn Redux page on Facebook. The impetus for his outreach was contextualizing photographs from a family vacation in Essex many decades ago. I was immeasurably grateful for the opportunity to peer into Rosslyn’s past when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn. As happens remarkably often in this quirky existence, Phil and I uncovered a handful of additional life overlaps, the sharing of which has evolved into a penpal friendship of sorts.
I asked Phil recently to remind me how we had initially connected.
As for how we came to be in correspondence, it started with a group of photos sent to me from my Mom’s estate, and thinking I might provide some context for my children if they were ever of interest to them.
The breadcrumbs lined up thus:
Internet search on “Sherwood Inn”… much too broad… you would be surprised at the number!
From there to a link to your Rosslyn Redux website
Finally to initial contact via messenger after following link to your FB page…
Digital breadcrumbs for a fortuitous connection across an historic and geographic divide. Oh, brave new world!
Tantalizing Time Capsules
What is it about time capsules, especially serendipitous time capsules? Is it the wink of familiarity across decades, despite initial dissimilarities? Is there just something intrinsically compelling about time-hazed mirrors and patinated backstories? Something irresistibly intriguing about glimpsing earlier iterations of our realities?
I can’t answer these questions, but I suspect that there’s something universal in the fascination I experience when permitted to time travel backward into Rosslyn’s history. My earnest hunch, squinting eyes, and furrowed brow – perhaps the subtle conceits of an amateur sleuth – and my fluttering pulse are familiar and welcome as I study the black and white images shared by a man who lives on the other side of the country, a man I’ve never actually met in person, a man who has generously shared a nostalgic cache of personal artifacts that just happen to illuminate Rosslyn’s blurry past, a sneak peek into an earlier chapter of the property we’ve been revitalizing for years.
In that first photograph above Phil Keuhlen as a youngster is flanked by his proud parents. They’re kneeling in front of a porch that adorned Rosslyn’s East facade for many years. At first the brick home as we know it today isn’t recognizable to me. And then it is. A flash of familiarity. The entrance door sidelights with those delicate, curved mullions are unmistakable.
Florence Sherwood, Phil Keuhlen, and Chuck Sherwood at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
They are better visible in the photograph above as well, however the center transom light (over the door) appears to have been altered at some point.
Adding to my good fortune, Phil has filled in details that his family photographs leave out.
Here are the Sherwood Inn photos I promised… All were taken in August 1951. We lived in Bloomfield, NJ at the time. The little guy in the photos is me at 2 weeks shy of my 2nd birthday. Wish I could offer more background, but both of my folks have passed and the first of my siblings had not joined us yet, so there is no one else left to ask. My only recollection of that vacation is a vague memory of falling backwards and getting briefly stuck between a bench and a bulkhead on a ferry trip across Lake Champlain! Look closely at the one whose file title includes “Note Sign” and you will see a sign for Sherwood Inn in the background. It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you. There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse. The names of Florence & Chuck Sherwood, staff member Jean and guest/daughter(?) Judy are all retrieved from my Mom’s contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos.
There’s plenty to muse and chuckle over in Phil’s message, but two threads especially strike me.
Let’s start with Phil’s mother’s “contemporaneous inscriptions on the back of the photos”. The photographs are opulent time capsules in and of themselves. They instantly offer a potent visual connection across the decades, an accessible and inviting bridge between now and then. The presence of Phil, his parents, and several others in the photographs contributes to the allure. These are not mere architectural artifacts. They are intimate snapshots of love and laughter and memories-in-the-making in the very same yard, beach, buildings where we love and laugh and make memories seventy years later. There’s a relevance and resonance that functions like a time machine, embracing two disconnected slivers of time so that they overlap for a moment.
And that is just a reaction to the time tarnished images. The inscriptions that Phil refers to remind me of the messages memorialized on the back sides of vintage postcards I collect.
Although I remain somewhat conflicted whether or not it’s appropriate to share the messages from vintage and antique postcards, I tend toward a quasi-archeological justification (unless the content is obviously sensitive or inappropriate). (Source: Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain – Rosslyn Redux)
From time to time these words illuminate the image. Time capsules in and of themselves, these quickly scrawled artifacts can enrich and amplify the value of the photographs. This is certainly the case with the notes recorded by Phil’s mother.
I’m especially intrigued to see mention of Florence and Chuck Sherwood. Although I’ve been fortunate in amassing many artifacts from the days that Rosslyn served as the Sherwood Inn, I’m thin on information about this couple. And the staff member smiling in the photos below, who is she? Might she be identifiable? Is she perhaps still a member of our Essex community?
Phil Keuhlen with Jean (staff) at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Jean, Sherwood Inn staff, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
And Phil’s young companion, Judy, will she remain a mystery? Or perhaps a dash of crowd research will help us to identify her as well.
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Phil Keuhlen and Judy at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
What gratitude I feel to Phil (and to Phil’s mother) for recording and sharing these moments. And yet, I can’t help but repeat thoughts from an earlier post about a vintage photograph.
This faded photograph kindles nostalgia and wonder, revealing a glimpse into the history of Rosslyn… while dangling further mysteries to compell me deeper into the narrative of our home. Kindred sleuths are welcome! (Source: Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907 – Rosslyn Redux)
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
As for the second thread I’d like to revisit, Phil mentions the Sherwood Inn sign in the photograph above.
It says there were cabins available… not sure if that is news to you.
While the presence of cabins or cottages at the Sherwood Inn is known to us, this is a reminder that we’ve never managed to locate any record (photograph, title, etc.) that precisely captures the locations or looks of these cabins. I’d like to. I’m hoping that somebody may have snapped a photograph once upon a time.
Rosslyn Boathouse
As I’ve mentioned time and again since I began sharing this story over a decade ago, it was Rosslyn’s boathouse with which I was initially smitten. It’s my first and enduring passion when it comes to this property. So, needless to say, Phil’s mother’s photographs of the boathouse are especially captivating for me.
Keuhlen Family at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Although salvaging and rehabilitating this architectural folly was an epic project, it’s immensely satisfying to see that there are so few differences between today’s pier, dock house, and gangway (to shore) and their earlier iteration in the photograph. Preserving this +/-125 year old Essex monument is a perennial challenge. Engineering and construction location hurdles for “a boathouse that was one ice flow away from a watery grave” were not insignificant. And then there was the ahistoric flooding. Not the 1983 flood which took place more than two decades prior to our ownership. The 2011 flood, on the other hand, visited weeks upon weeks of high water upon us immediately after we had completed the boathouse’s lengthy renovation.
The second Keuhlen family photo of Rosslyn’s boathouse was taken when the photographer turned slightly more eastward, away from the beach and toward Vermont.
There is also one that is very blurry… that I included because it shows that there used to be an extension well beyond your boathouse.
Phil’s note touches on one of the notable differences with Rosslyn’s 21st century boathouse. Although a portion of the cantilevered section at the end of the boathouse remains, the extensive pier that continued eastward through the 1990s is no longer extant. Ruins of the old stone and timber crib dock remain however, and they’re visible at low water (usually August to September or October). An ice flow approximately a decade prior to our purchase effectively erased what at one time more than doubled the pier’s extension into Lake Champlain. A studious eye can spy the original pier (and the coal bunker built atop it) in these posts: “Kestrel 1892 Steam Yacht in Essex” and “Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 1907“.
Phil Keuhlen at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
Toward a Poetics of Place
I mentioned at the opening to this post that Phil and I have discovered several uncanny life coincidences. While some (i.e. New Mexico parallels) aren’t germane in this blog post, others are. It turns out that Phil and my wife, Susan, grew up — albeit a generation apart — within walking distance from one another. And his family was similarly drawn to old home rehabilitation.
Funny how small the world can be, huh? My folks restored an old Victorian house in Glen Ridge, the little town between Montclair & Bloomfield… When they took possession, there was a (leaky) slate roof, a well in the attached shed, a coal fired boiler, an earthen floor in the basement, some remnants of lead piping and gas lighting. I learned a lot watching and helping with that rolling renovation… largely an early lesson in blowing cost and schedule. I used to joke with my parents that I would have been a genius if I hadn’t ingested all the dust from sanding and scraping lead based paint in that house as a youngster! […] My folks lived in that old home from 1954 until they moved to Colorado in 1970, and subsequent owners have been generous in allowing my family occasional walks down memory lane there. It sounds like Rosslyn has the same attraction of fond associations for many in Essex. I explored your site some more and found the link to the article in OHJ. Your restoration is simply stunning.
I want to close by telling you how much I have enjoyed your blog. I lived in Saratoga Springs in ’72-’73 and enjoyed exploring up your way every chance I got (ok… when not casting on the Battenkill or Ausable). You write evocatively about a special part of this beautiful country and the history that is integral to a sense of place and community.
I too want to close by telling Phil Keuhlen how much I have enjoyed these photographs and our communications, conversations sometimes rooted in a shared experience of the Sherwood Inn / Rosslyn and other times meandering far afield. It has brought me immense satisfaction journeying into this 1951 time capsule through the memories and artifacts of a stranger-turned-friend. And I am humbled once again with the proof that a sense of place and community is the heart and soul of Rosslyn Redux. I have approached this topic tangentially for years, wondering and wandering toward a better understanding of what defines our Rosslyn experience; what bound us so passionately to this property from our first encounter; and what after all are home, home-ness, homing?
In the early days of this blog I suspected our inside-out rehabilitation story might offer something useful — even practical — to others pursuing similar adventures. Perhaps this is still sometimes the case. But I’ve mostly migrated from prescriptive to curious. Wonder has long since eclipsed practical. Still coalescing is what I’ve come to see as a poetics of place.
With that somewhat nebulous prognostication, I close this pre-Thanksgiving post with heartfelt appreciation to Phil and his late mother. Your gift of memory and family artifacts are now woven inextricably into the Rosslyn narrative. Given the overalled youngster’s self assurance in this final photograph below, it seems almost inevitable that his grown up self would reach across the country and across the years to reconnect with a place that endures in memory. A place that endures as our home. An auspicious connection for sure! Thank you.
Father and son, Al Keuhlen (r) and Phil Keuhlen (l), at the Sherwood Inn, August 1951 (Source: Phil Keuhlen)
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)
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.
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.
