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.
When I stumble upon artifacts specific to Rosslyn or Essex or Lake Champlain or the Adirondacks I’m usually unable to resist collecting and showcasing them for others to enjoy. Often I can explain precisely why the artifact is of interest, but other times I’m unable to explain clearly, succinctly the appeal. Today’s discovery is fated to this latter purgatory I’m afraid.
1882 Harper’s Weekly: Children’s Excursion to Lake Champlain
This antique print appeared at auction but its purchase eluded me. It would have been nice to get a closer look, and to properly decipher the artist’s name (not 100% ineligible in this digital facsimile).
According to the auction listing, the page was pulled from the July 1882 issue of Harper’s Weekly, and the title offers a glimpse into the narrative it was illustrating.
THE “TRIBUNE” FRESH-AIR FUND—CHILDREN’S EXCURSION TO LAKE CHAMPLAIN
Harper’s Weekly, July 1882
This evocative antique drawing captures the hope and energy of a children’s book illustration, inviting daydreams of carefree country living along the shores of Lake Champlain.
There’s plenty to appreciate in this drawing. My eye is especially drawn to the vignette subtitled “At a bee swarming” and located near the center of the image. While the drama of finding and trapping a bee swarm (presumably to populate a bee hive) is the clear focus of this freeze-frame, it’s the background which leaps out at me. Do you see building boasting a sunburst ornamented pediment? The architectural illustration may or may not have been inspired by a visit to Essex on Lake Champlain, but it certainly appears likely!
Detail from Steamer Vermont Stereoview, photographed by S.R. Stoddard c. 1870
In the thirteen years since arriving in Essex (or perhaps it’s only the twelve years since purchasing Rosslyn?) I’ve succumbed to a romantic-if-frivolous obsession with local and regional artifacts. Sometimes I’m fortunate enough to document firsthand relics from Essex yesteryear or Lake Champlain yesteryear. Other times I’m afforded a mere glimpse.
That cinematic snapshot above, as moody as it is patinated, falls into the latter category. Like a still from a crumbling film no longer visible. A phantom. A memory. Men aboard the steamship Vermont. Serious, contemplative, well dressed gentlemen (and likely a few imposters) recline or stand solemn on the forward, upper deck as they sail across Lake Champlain.
Who are they? Where are they headed? What is their occupation, their task, their conversation? Who is their haberdasher?!?!
We know only that the photograph, a detail from two images arranged in the stereoview below, was captured by S.R. Stoddard (circa 1870s according to the auction listing). Fading mementos of forgotten travelers. Worn edges and sepia-tinged souvenirs. Formal calligraphy on bright orange cardboard.
Sadly another bidder beat me to this treasure. But others will surface in due course…
Here’s the original stereoview.
Steamer Vermont Stereoview, photographed by S.R. Stoddard c. 1870
Lake Champlain sunrise. Still mostly dark. Then an explosion of fiery day over the silhouetted Green Mountains in Vermont, over the slightly refracting waters of the lake…
When Your A-Roll Becomes Your B-Roll (Source: Geo Davis)
It’s mornings like this when your B-roll becomes your A-roll! It’s mornings like this that I pinch myself. Gently. But enough to startle myself into reassessing my day’s priorities.
Today I caught myself just in time to juggle priorities. Here’s what convinced me to recalibrate the agenda.
Rosslyn boathouse is flooded (6:00am April, 29, 2011)
We knew it would happen sooner or later. But like so many inevitable but dreaded events, we’d wrapped ourselves in a warm comforter of denial. And four springs slipped quickly past since purchasing Rosslyn without the boathouse getting flooded. Sure, we’ve had plenty of high water, but the water’s never risen above the floorboards. In fact, the highest it had ever gotten was about 9-12″ below the floorboards!
Not this year. Lake Champlain‘s water level has risen quickly in recent weeks due in part to seasonal spring melt after an extremely snowy winter and spring. But spring rains are the real culprit. Lots and lots and lots of rain. We’ve been watching day by day as the water crept up, reassuring ourselves that it must be cresting soon… Only it wasn’t. It’s still rising. About another 5″ inches since yesterday afternoon, bringing it to about one foot in the last 24 hours. That’s fast! But slow enough for us to clear out the items that don’t play well with water. Which put a dent in Doug’s carpentry work upstairs, finishing up the trim and oiling the fir. We also had to shut down all electric. Which makes for a dark and eerie lair in the evening. A bit like a flooded tunnel. Interesting photos though…
Most of the drama surrounds the boathouse, especially since we’ve worked long and hard to restore it to health and happiness. But the waterfront is another big concern. Major erosion already, and that’s with relatively light wind and minimal wave action. Big wind and big waves could be catastrophic! Hoping against hope that the wind will remain calm and the waters will fall. Help me hope if you’ve got psychic horsepower to spare. Although we haven’t finished landscaping the entire waterfront, roughly a third (about 80′) looked great up until a few days ago. We’ve rebuilt the stone walls and planted a lawn on the terrace above the beach. The rear edge of the lawn, following the base of the next stone terrace had grown into a handsome daylily bed that stretched the full eighty feet. Spectacular in summer. Now virtually erased by drift wood grinding and churning in the waves. All hand planted. All pampered through the first season. All healthy and thriving earlier this week. All gone now. Memories. I can only hope that some of the bulbs are intact, floating around Lake Champlain, and that they will wash up on people’s beaches and surprise them this summer with heirloom blooms!
In the time it took me to whip up this post, the USGS has changed the Lake Champlain water level from 102.54″ to 102.61″ which happened over an interval of about three hours. So, still not cresting. And the sky has gone from sunny and clear to dark and cloudy. Storm clouds threatening. Wind rising…
According to this USGS data for Lake Champlain we’re making history. To be more precise, Lake Champlain’s water levels are making history. That red line at the top of the graph is the historic high water mark set during spring flooding on April 27, 1993. And, as you can see, the blue “actual” recordings have already flickered above the red line a couple of times, though — as I understand it — these figures are not official. Yet. Not sure why. Nor when we’ll know the official water level, but I can assure you that Rosslyn boathouse is now swamped. And the lake is virtually windless and flat… Imagine what this afternoon will look like if/when the wind climbs into the high teens as forecast!
Fortunately there’s less debris floating around the boathouse today. I’m worried that heavy wave action combined with a large floating log or two acting as a battering ram against the boathouse superstructure could be devastating. We’ve witnessed the damage already when the water level was 18″ lower. I’ll head down when the rain abates to take some more images of the drowning boathouse to share with you. Until then, please send dry, windless vibes Essex-way. Thanks!
A miniature barn up the road from Rosslyn that I pass by on many of my bike rides. Movie credits view. Silent except for a few crickets and a single leaf flapping against something harder than another leaf. The tree trunk perhaps. Now the shishishish of tall grass rustling in a faint breeze. Now quiet again. Crickets.
