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Supi Installing Northside Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
With the blizzard barreling into our neck of the woods, Peter and Supi hustled to wrap up installation of northside posts before snow stalls their progress.
Supi Installing Northside Post Wraps (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
These photos give the golden-lighted illusion that work conditions down at the boathouse are temperate and eminently agreeable. Reality is a bit different, of course. Temperatures have been damp and cold. And working on a manmade peninsula out into chilly, windy Lake Champlain isn’t for the delicate.
Northside Post Wraps (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photo above the copper tops are as obviously absent as the railings. I had a “tin knocker” fabricate the copper tops almost a decade and a half ago. They’ve patinated handsomely in their demanding lakeside environment, and they’ve even endured a few dings from waterski fins, windsurfer booms, etc. over the years. So replace them, right? No way! We’re carefully removing the small copper nails that secure them, and we’ll reuse them once railings are in place. As if nothing ever changed!
Boathouse Northside Post Wraps Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Northside Posts Ready for Rails
The northside posts are s assigned and ready for Peter and Supi to install the railings. The railing components are being fabricated — almost done — and following the posts to Willsboro where Erin is priming and painting the components prior to installation. Lots. Of. Steps. Have I mentioned before that it takes a team?!?!
Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
That photo above shows new post wraps primed, re-sanded, and ready for another coat of primer. Then they’ll receive two coats of paint before being installed. Overkill, you’re wondering? Actually it’s future -proofing. An investment in longevity. Yes, historic rehabilitation is a perpetual balancing act between revitalizing the past and endeavoring to preserve these architectural artifacts well into the future. Onward!
Have you ever heard of Camp Cherokee for Boys in Willsboro? If so, I’d love to learn more. So far the details are pretty thin…
Campfire, Camp Cherokee for Boys, Willsboro, NY (postcard, front)
As we roll into the final days of 2022, I’ve been attempting to streamline my end-of-year projects. And while the prospect of simply deleting lingering items on the perennial punch list is tempting, I’m instead shuffling priorities against the incoming year’s timeline. Yes, some oldies have sat long enough that they’ve moldered into irrelevance. Delete! Others, like today’s artifact (an antique postcard for an extinct summer camp), were probably somewhat superfluous since day one (this draftling — an especially brief stub awaiting development — originated on May 18, 2017!), but they continue to intrigue me. Not ready to delete yet. And so I bring to you an unabashedly abbreviated post showcasing a postcard from Camp Cherokee for Boys. Once upon a time this small summer camp existed on Willsboro Point, possibly not too far from Camp-of-the-Pines. Today neither lakeside retreat endures, but I’m hoping that sharing this vintage postcard just might gin up a little more information.
Crowdsource Kindling
With an eye to kindling this fledgling crowdsource initiative into existence, I’ll share what little I’ve been able to ascertain thus far.
According the A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3 which was published in 1926 by Porter Sargent, Camp Cherokee for Boys was located “at Willsborough Point” which may simply mean somewhere on Willsboro Point, but also might suggest that it was actually located a the tip of the peninsula?
This introductory blurb vaguely locates three summer camps located within the vicinity.
Willsborough is north of Essex. Camp Pok-O-Moonshine is on Long Pond near the foot of Peak Pok-O-Moonshine. Camp Pocahontas is on the shore of Lake Champlain, two miles east of the village. At Willsborough Point is Camp Cherokee. (p. 388, A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3)
Scrolling down a little further to the bottom of page 388 and the top of 389 we can read the following blurb about Camp Cherokee for Boys.
Here’s a more legible swipe at the blurry image above.
CAMP CHEROKEE, P. O. Willsborough, N. Y. Alt 110 ft. Harold K. Van Buren, 508 National Bldg., Cleveland, Ohio. For boys 8-14 Enr. 30 Staff 10 Est. Fee $300.
Cherokee limits its enrollment to thirty boys. Mr. Van Buren is director of Educational Research, National School Club, Cleveland, Ohio, and with him is associated the Rev. Henry S. Whitehead. Ph.D., an Episcopal clergyman who is also a short story writer. Although the camp is conducted under Episcopal auspices, the enrollment is not limited to boys of that faith. A varied program of athletics, aquatics, woodcraft and dramatics is provided. Much attention is paid to trips to the well known Adirondack peaks, as well as a sight seeing trip to Montreal. Tutoring may also be provided without extra charge. (p. 388-9, A Handbook of Summer Camps: An Annual Survey, Volume 3)
The affiliation between Van Buren and the Cleveland based educational research institution is curiosity inspiring. Hoping to learn a bit more about that, and, of course, about the Messieurs Van Buren and Whitehead. The latter appears in a 1926 publication from the Alumni Council of Columbia University, although the relevant clipping is too small and to be readily legible.
If your eyes are as strained as mine by attempting to decipher that blurry blob of timeworn text, here’s a more legible transcription.
Whitehead spends his summers at Lake Champlain. There he is associated with Mr. H. K. Van Buren who is director and proprietor of Camp Cherokee for Boys at Willsboro and together they have worked out constructive new theories on boys’ camps with satisfactory results. (p. 398, Columbia Alumni News, Alumni Council of Columbia University, 1926)
There’s a bit of curiosity bait in there as well. For example, why would two contemporaneous publications refer to the same town but spell the name differently. One is tempted to assume that the older spelling, Willsborough, was at some point replaced by the newer spelling, Willsboro. Perhaps this was the period of transition? I wonder. And then there’s the rather clinical reference to the two men developing “constructive new theories on boys’ camps with satisfactory results.” I suppose that better-than-satisfactory results might have better assured the longevity of this no longer extant summer camp. Of course, administering an enterprise of this sort with fewer than three dozen clients seems like another ill conceived component. It would be challenging to mathematically ensure viability for this business model for long. But maybe this too is a question of age/time and transition. It’s clear that once upon a time small camps and schools managed to thrive with far smaller populations than they do today. At least for a while…
In closing, I’m soliciting any/all knowledge of the former Willsboro Point summer camp known as Camp Cherokee for Boys. Thanks in advance!
Campfire, Camp Cherokee for Boys, Willsboro, NY (postcard, back)
Yesterday I meditated a minute on bygone barns. Ancient farm buildings. Tempered by time, tempted by gravity, and sowbacked beneath the burdens of generations, these rugged utility structures retain (and sometimes gain) a minimalist elegance long after design and construction and use fade into history. My meditation was meandering and inconclusive. In part this was due to the wandering wonder these timeworn buildings inspire in me. And in part it was because my observations are still evolving and inconclusive. I’m not a barn expert, an agricultural architecture preservationist, or even a particularly astute student of barns and farms. But I am a barnophile.
a person with a fondness for structures used to house livestock, grain, etc.
an admirer and/or collector of agricultural outbuildings
Aside from the hubris I’ve just exercised in birthing this barnophile definition, I’m generally inclined to a humbler and less presumptuous relationship with the mostly agrarian artifacts we categorize as barns.
[As an unabashed barnophile with a] weakness for wabi-sabi, I’m especially keen on bygone barns.
By “bygone barns” I’m conjuring an entire class of rural farm and utility buildings belonging to an earlier time. Classic lines, practical design, form following function, wearing age and even obsolescence with pride,… I’m even smitten with buildings so dilapidated that they’ve been reduced to their skeletal essence by the forces of nature. Sunlight, moonlight, weather, wildlife, and vegetation permeate these carcasses. The sparse assembly of materials — beaten by the elements for more years than anyone alive can definitively claim to know — endure erect, monumental, lavishly adorned with forgotten functions and the patina of passing time. (Source: Bygone Barns)
Barn Vernacular (Source: Geo Davis)
But why do forgotten farm buildings enchant me? What reason lurks beneath the tidy text, what foundation for my unusual fascination with these vestiges of a simpler, more local, perhaps even a slower time? Katie Shepard, so very rarely off target, suggests this childhood reminiscence might play into my barn-centric attraction.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres in Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.
Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle. (Source: The Farm)
As usual, Katie is right. Woven into the earliest tapestries of my childhood are fond associations with barns. This was undoubtedly further reinforced during our years at Homeport given the inordinate amount of time that my brother, sister and I occupied ourselves in the mysterious old barn complete with ballroom and servant’s quarters long since adapted to other uses. And in my grade school years my siblings and I memorized Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill” to recite as a birthday gift for my father. I wish I could take credit for this creative gift giving tradition, but it was my mother, Melissa Davis, who gently guided the three of us each winter to select a poem that would appeal to my father, and then to memorize it during our daily 45-60 minute commute to school each morning and and each evening. Three days after Christmas, on my father’s birthday, we would recite the poem together, and (with one notable exception that’s better reserved for another day) my father enjoyed the gift, leaning back, sometimes closing his eyes, and listening attentively. I think “Fern Hill” may have been the best received, and it became a go-to for family recitation over the years, hypnotically weaving itself into the ethos of our childhood the way a prayer might.
Boundaries of a Barnophile
There comes a time to focus the “philos”, or at least to try and narrow or delineate the subject of interest.
I’ve talked around my fascination with barns, barn architecture, barn construction, and barn aesthetics… But I haven’t outlined the tenets for my enduring intrigue, nor have I articulated exactly what I mean when I refer to a barn vernacular. It’s time to draft at least a preliminary look at my love of barns. […]
In the vernacular vocabulary of quintessentially North American architecture, the barn endures as a practical yet proud icon of rural living. […]
Although my fascination with barn vernacular isn’t limited to Yankee barns, it is my most consistent and encompassing vision.(Source: Toward a Barn Vernacular)
In other words, I’m inclined toward classic geometry, roofs steep enough to shed water and snow (with a particular fondness for 9:12 pitch), and unembellished details. And I will always favor bygone barns to new construction. The quality of workmanship and materials stands out, but so too does the story stretching across decades, even centuries.
I consider aging utility buildings — barns, boathouses, icehouses, sugarshacks, etc. — to be at least as intriguing as old houses. More sometimes. So many relics, unselfconscious, candid. Less penchant for concealing, fewer makeovers, more concurrently present years and lives. Sometimes it’s the old, banged up subjects and objects that look the best. Thank goodness for that! (Source: Horse Stall Haiku)
And what of other barn-like buildings, rural utility buildings designed and constructed after the same manner?
School Bus Stop Ahead (Photo: virtualDavis)
They appeal to me as well. In fact, the agricultural DNA isn’t essential to me at all. I suppose I’m somewhat “barn androgynous”, equally smitten with similarly origined buildings even if they’ve never seen a horse, cow, chicken, pig, or hay bale.
That said, it’s worth acknowledging that the architecture of New England barns, Yankee barns, and even — drifting a little further southeast — tobacco barns are especially appealing to me. And if it’s fair to assume that my affinity is at least partly nostalgia-driven, then it’s probably worth adding another influence the those sited above. Four year of boarding school in Old Deerfield, Massachusetts definitely instilled in me an appreciation for early colonial building, and there were a couple of barns that still loom proud in my memory.
Beyond Boundaries
Although I wish I could gather these strings and call it caput, I must further complicate the boundaries I’ve endeavored to delineate above.
While there’s something alluring about the volume and the efficiency of barns, the unpretentious posture with no attempt to conceal functions or mechanism, scale isn’t essential. The small corn crib above, for example, intoxicates my imagination nearly as much as the grand barn at the top of this post.
Baked into my identity as a barnophile, into this somewhat esoteric aesthetic and philosophical appetite, is a tendency to stretch my definition of barns to include other similar outbuildings.
While Rosslyn didn’t fit squarely into the vision of an old farm or a collection of dilapidated barns that I originally was hunting for, this stately home does have three remarkable outbuildings, all three of which lured me as much as the house. In fact, well before we completed our top-to-bottom rehabilitation of the home, we tackled the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All of them were on the brink. Actually much of the house was as well. But just as we committed to salvaging the home, returning it to its former grandeur, we likewise undertook laborious, challenging efforts to salve the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All buildings were dilapidated, but the icehouse and boathouse were both succumbing to the omnipresent challenges of weather and neglect.
I’ve posted plenty in the past about Rosslyn’s boathouse, the lakeside folly that beckoned to us from the beginning. For a whimsical mind like my own, smitten with boating adventures — real and imagined — becoming irreversibly enchanted with our small dock house protruding out into Lake Champlain was pretty much inevitable. Although its mission has always been tied to watery locomotion, it is for all practical purposes a sort of barn. A diminutive lakeside barn purpose-built for boating. A utility outbuilding conceived and specifically confected to serve the Kestrel just over a century and a quarter ago.
And Rosslyn’s icehouse, occupying much of my attention these last few months as we cartwheel through an ambitious rehabilitation and adaptive reuse project, is likewise a barn. We often refer to the carriage barn and icehouse, standing as they do side-by-side, as “the barns”. As a utility building designed to complement the architecture of the carriage barn and home, it was nevertheless first and foremost a utility building constructed to support the residents with year round cooling at a time when refrigeration did not yet exist. It was an ice barn!
And so you see perhaps the elasticity of my identity as a barnophile. A barn might not immediately appear to be a barn. But the rudiments, the purpose, and likely the longevity have profited from the heritage of barn building. And this, my friends strikes me as the right place to wrap up. If this this post was intended as a more intimate look at the romance of bygone barns, those that have endured a looong time and even those no longer viable, then I’ve covered my bases. And too, I’ve revisited my original hope of locating an old barn to convert into a home, a hope that has not altogether faded away.
In fact, Susan and I have been for a few years brainstorming a barn-inspired for the future, our future, that just might begin to emerge in the years ahead. Stay tuned…
I turn afield this afternoon to share with you a growing collection of vintage postcards and miscellaneous artifacts featuring Camp-of-the-Pines in Willsboro, New York. To be 100% transparent from the outset, my aspiration is twofold:
I want to solicit community knowledge about this [apparently] no longer extant Lake Champlain neighbor.
I want to showcase our remarkably robust collection of vintage artifacts for this intriguing one-time travel destination.
By way of introduction and orientation, let’s navigate north from Rosslyn along the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain in a skiff or a sailboat (so long as the draft is not too great). Northbound you’ll observe some but not many homes and camps partially concealed by foliage. Before long we’ll discover the Boquet River delta which extends a sandy bar far out into the broad lake south of the Four Brothers Islands. After the river a large holding with several discreetly sited residences yields to a cluster of buildings that—once upon a time, according to these artifacts—might have been Camp-of-the-Pines (aka Camp of the Pines). I say “might” because this is my best guess, and waaay down the path of conjecture. My hypothesis may well prove mistaken.
Okay, let’s dive in!
Community Crowd Sourcing
For about a decade Katie Shepard has been sharing our Rosslyn and Essex-area artifacts (mostly antique and vintage postcards) on our community’s social media channels to celebrate local heritage and crowdsource the postcards’ many familiar and sometimes unfamiliar subjects. She published the postcard above back in August 2017, but unlike many artifacts there wasn’t much familiarity with this historic Willsboro destination. In fact, this was the only message received by a reader.
Despite enthusiastic familiarity, we learned little. Katie’s forensic fact finding focused on the information available on the postcard itself.
According to the caption along the top of the postcard this is an aerial shot of Camp of the Pines in Willsboro, NY with Vermont and the Four Brothers Islands on Lake Champlain in the distance. — Katie Shepard (Source: essexonlakechamplain.com)
The backside of the postcard offered a little more insight.
Camp of the Pines, Willsboro, NY (postcard)
The back side of the postcard shown below gives us a bit more information:
CAMP-of-the-PINES, Willsboro, NY “Where Lake Champlain is at its Best” Single rooms to private cottages with Central Dining Room Modern Appointments — Sports Private Sand Beach
In short, it appears that Camp of the Pines was a Willsboro summer “camp” on Lake Champlain. But where? And when?
Katie’s sleuthing draws our attention to the postmark date which appears to be August 8, 1956 which she deduces must have been during operation of Camp of the Pines. But when did it start and cease to operate? Where exactly was it located? And what happened to the property after it concluded its days as a commercial venture. Does it still remain intact? Changed? Has it become a private residence?
Camp of the Pines Artifacts
What follows are additional historic artifacts/images of Camp of the Pines. Perhaps one will trigger some useful tidbits of information, a memory, a backstory, maybe even an epilogue?
Let’s start with this 1940 brochure advertising a June 29 thorough September 3 vacation season at Camp of the Pines.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
Vintage gold! If your eyes struggle with the fuzzy letters, here’s a transcription of the paragraphs on the right side.
Health, happiness and good fellowship await you at CAMP-of-the-PINES on Lake Champlain during your vacation days.
Amid the peace and glories of Nature you will find plain, comfortable accommodations, restful beds, an abundance of good food, and the courteous service of a Christian Camp.
So, we’re on to something. A Christian summer camp. And the map on the left side is somewhat helpful as well, generally locating the camp more or less as I’ve described above. Let’s dive deeper into the brochure.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
The next two pages of the brochure are replete with intereresting information and are transcribed in full.
Accessibility
CAMP-of-the-PINES is located on Lake Champlain less than two miles from Willsboro, Essex County, New York.
The New York-Albany-Montreal highway and the Delaware & Hudson Railroad station are a mile and a half distant, while Port Kent, the western terminus of the Burlington Ferry is a short drive to the north.
The Village of Willsboro maintains good stores, a well-equipped library, a bank, several churches, telegraph office and garages, and enjoys the services of a highly trained physician.
The Camp is a kingdom apart, far enough from any road to insure perfect quiet and freedom from intrusion of every sort, but reached over an improved highway.
Points of Interest
Drives to and from widely renowned historical and beauty spots can be made in one day — Ausable chasm, Whiteface Mountain, Fort Ticonderoga, Lake Placid, Lake George, John Brown’s Grave, The Heart of the Adirondacks, and the cities of Plattsburg, Burlington, Saratoga, Montreal and other points of interest. Two bridges span Lake Champlain within easy driving distance of the Camp.
Mountains and Lake
Lake Champlain in its nine-mile width and 136 mile length offers an unusual opportunity for trips by sail and power boats.
This histories lake, far-famed for its beauty and grandeur and the glory of its mountain environment, makes the Camp site one of the most fascinating in the East.
From all points on the shore line of the Camp estate more than thirty miles of magnificent views, together with broad, entrancing lake vistas up to twenty males in extent, greet the eye.
With tho stately and picturesque Adirondacks stretching off to the West, the majestic Green Mountains silhouetted against the Eastern sky and the great blue Lake Champlain nestled in between, the location of CAMP-of-the-PINES is ideal for nature-lovers and those seeking new and broader outlooks.
Sunrise and sunset may be from the Camp and the moonlight, casting a silvery path over the broad expanse of clear water backed by the majestic mountains, is romance itself.
A quiet bay on which the Camp property is located affords the safety of a small lake, with none of its disadvantages.
The large tract of land with its gradual rise from the beach, enjoys isolation from other properties and has a long shore line presenting extensive lake and mountain view. One-half of the tract covered by majestic pine woods and the other by open fields where one may absorb health-giving sunshine in abundance.
There is no low or marsh land and fog is practically unknown. This locality is renowned for the absence of mosquitoes, black flies and other mountain pests. Dry mountain air, clear skies, cool nights and comfortable days are the rule.
The Camp is aptly named — tall, stately pines spread their branches above the buildings and tents which are scattered along the shore and up the easy hill side — fragrant pine needles of other years softy carpet the walks and woods.
The Club Plan
It is the aim of the Camp management to limit its clientele to guests of refinement and common interests and so maintain a happy, genial and inspiring camp atmosphere. To contribute to the maintenance of this ideal, guests will be limited to members of the CAMP-of-the-PINES VACATION CLUB.
Membership in the Club may be secured upon written application. Blanks for application will be sent upon request. The payment of a nominal fee of one dollar for each adult admits the applicant to full membership for one year. This amount will be returned to anyone whose application is not accepted and to any not making use of the Camp facilities, if desired. The Club dues will be used in their entirety, and under direction of a committee, to provide vacations for for worthy persons who, otherwise, could not enjoy the benefits of rest and change.
The Meals
Choice vegetables grown on the Camp Farm are gathered daily, just prior to their use, thereby retaining that sweetness and freshness which make them so appetizing. Milk and fresh eggs from the same source are served. Guests will find tables supplied with an abundance of wholesome, seasonable, well-prepared home cooked food. Ample portions and repeated servings are the pride of the Camp.
Camp of the Pines (Source: 1940 brochure)
Healthful Sports
Boating, bathing, swimming, motor boat rides, aquaplaning, fishing, tennis, croquet, handball and other games provide the guests with out-of-door exercise. Indoor games, dancing, singing and entertainments afford pleasant occupation and offer opportunities for wholesome social intercourse.
Safe and clean row boats may be rented by the day or week.
Camp guests have access for a modest fee to a golf course adjoining the camp property.
Camp Store
The Camp store supplies guests with pure refreshments, toilet articles, souvenirs, cards, magazines and many of the away-from-house necessities.
Fishing
In addition to the fishing in Lake Champlain, many small lakes, ponds and streams in the vicinity lure the ardent fisherman, while broad fields, shady glens and mountain wilderness attract the naturalists.
A limited number of children can be accommodated but children under fifteen are not expected unless accompanied by an adult.
Persons with a communicable disease cannot be accommodated.
No alcoholic beverages will be sold, served or permitted in the Camp.
Dogs are not allowed.
Roughing It In Comfort
Guest accommodations consist of one-room cabins with private bath (toilet, lavatory and shower); Duplex cabins with semi-private bath; Twin cottage rooms (with and without running water) or weather-proof tents with board floors, wooden wainscots and frames and electric lights.
All buildings are located among the pines at the edge of the woods, have porches and are completely screened.
The Camp property is electronically lighted throughout and has modern appointments and sanitation with both tub and showers.
There is an abundance of hot water at all times in shower rooms and bathrooms and available by pitcher service in your tent or room.
Fresh bed linen and summer blankets will be supplied. Woolen blankets may be rented at the office. Guests provide themselves with towels, washcloths, soap and heavy blankets.
Unusually Fine Beach
The broad, gently sloping sand beach, free from depressions and stones, affords bathers an opportunity to wade out in safety, a long distance from the shore. The clear blue waters of the lake make bathing and swimming a real pleasure and the clean, sand beach affords ideal conditions for sun baths.
This stretch of private sand beach is a favorite place for all ages. Beyond the bathers’ beach is a beach for swimmers where a float is provided, affording good diving.
Morn ‘til Night — It’s Fun!!
Particularly those vacationing alone will enjoy the friendly, family atmosphere and the daily program of entertainment and activities.
There is a continual tug-of-war between the beach with its suppers, swimming and aquaplaning and the Recreation Hall with its sings, games and dancing. Organized hikes and tournaments, badminton, horseshoes, croquet and tennis fill the days.
Guests who remember with pleasure motor-boat rides will have cause for even more pleasant memories of rides in the new 27-foot inboard motor boat which makes for initial appearance in the 1940 season.
What to Expect and What to Bring
From the pines themselves springs the gracious hospitality of the Camp. Like them it will not smother you with a too heady nearness — neither will it leave you lonely. Your vacation here is your OWN, to spend as you will — strenuously or restfully — in solitude or in refreshing companionship. You will live informally in informal clothing. The simplicity and ease with which living is accomplished is a boon to tired minds and bodies.
Everything about CAMP-of-the-PINES encourages out-of-door life and we suggest that guests bring comfortable walking shoes, camp clothing, both heavy and light, fishing tackle, tennis rackets, bathing suits, golf clubs and musical instruments.
Guests are encouraged to make CAMP-of-the-PINES a place of happy, helpful friendships and to arrange for parties of friends to come with them and to visit them. A cordial welcome awaits you and the assurance of days filled with rest and recreation which will send you back to the daily grind with renewed health and inspiration.
1949 Adirondack Guide Advertisement
Nine years after circulating the impressively detailed Camp-of-the-Pines brochure above, Camp-of-the-Pines featured prominently in this 1949 Adirondack Guide.
Camp-of-the-Pines advertisement from 1949 Adirondack Guide. (Source: Adirondack Guide via David Brayden)
I’m especially intrigued by mention of the “adjoining golf course” which possibly helps pinpoint the location of Camp-of-the-Pines. (Many thanks to David Brayden for providing this artifact!) Personal our broader community will be able to connect some of the dots so far?
Camp-of-the-Pines Inside Out
As of now, I still have only a very slender perspective on the interior of Camp-of-the-Pines, but the two images below offer a glimpse from within.
Camp of the Pines, View from dining room window
If that blurry, time patinated photograph doesn’t mislead me, it looks as if the dining room view overlooks the Four Brothers Islands and Burlington, Vermont beyond.
The following postcard takes us into a space referenced in the brochure above, the Recreation Hall.
Camp of the Pines, “The Hub” Recreation Hall (front)
I include the reverse side of the postcard because the small description has become familiar at this point.
Camp of the Pines, “The Hub” Recreation Hall (front)
Camp-of-the-Pines From Above
I’ll wrap up, for now, with an aerial view of the property. This perspective helps orient us along the Willsboro shoreline on Point Road, possibly suggesting a location north of the Boquet River, south of Willsboro Point, and adjoining the Willsboro Golf Course.
Camp of the Pines, Areal View (front)Camp of the Pines, Areal View (back)
In Conclusion
I have to admit that I’m still thin on conclusions (and even a little thin on conjecture). But I’m optimistic that this post *might* little-by-little elicit further insights from our readers. And I recollect acquiring a couple of additional artifacts that I can’t currently locate, so I may be able to update this post with some more objects to study and consider. I also recollect taking some photographs from a boat a few summers ago. Maybe I can locate those as well…
Update
Many thanks to newspaper “archeologist”, Paul Harwood, who discovered this snippet about Ed Grady, the owner of Camp-of-the-Pines in September 15, 1949.
Ed Grady, owner Camp-of-the-Pines (Source: Ticonderoga Sentinel, September 15, 1949, via Paul Harwood)
Chopping Wood Sends Troy Man To Hospital PLATTSBURG — A clothesline and an ax combined to send Edward Grady, 25, of Troy, to the Champlain Valley Hospital here for treatment late Monday afternoon. Grady, according to State Police, was engaged in chopping wood at his camp “Camp in the Pines” at Willsboro Paint. The ax struck a clothesline, was deflected and inflicted a gash Grady’s forehead. Eight stitches were required to close the wound. Grady returned to his camp after receiving treatment.
Much of the North Country is still recovering from the devastation wrought by Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene. Four weeks on, I return to the notes I jotted during and shortly after Irene passed through Essex, New York.
A sheet of water cascades in front of the parlor windows. I’ve sunk into an armchair to watch the white caps rolling into our stone seawall. Into the dock beneath Rosslyn boathouse. Wind surges, thrashing and straining the leafy limbs of the gnarled old maple tree on the front lawn, violently snapping the boathouse flag.
Hurricane Irene has been delivering a less devastating blow to the Northeast than originally anticipated, and yet our lawn is littered with branches, entire tree limbs and even the top half of an Aspen which snapped off next to the carriage barn. Lake Champlain‘s water level has risen dramatically, gobbling up the sand beach and lapping at the stone seawalls currently being rebuilt north of our boat dock.
I initiated this post during the worst of Irene’s wind and water, however I quickly abbreviated my commentary. My mind flashed back to Lake Champlain’s destructive spring flood. I grew superstitious, my premature relief that Irene had taken it easy on us replaced by dread that I was underestimating her impact.
The next day I continued my observations after a demoralizing round trip to Plattsburgh. My suspicions had been confirmed. We were lucky; others unlucky…
The day started well enough. Clearing skies. Sunshine. Only a light breeze, virtually imperceptible after yesterday’s 65mph gusts.
I checked the waterfront, noted the dramatic rise in water level then celebrated the absence of damage to the boat house. I walked the lawn and counted about a dozen broken limbs strewn over the grass. The top third of an aspen tree had snapped off and lay crushed to the south of the carriage barn. But no serious, unrecoverable damage.
My sunny disposition clouded briefly upon finding 27 bags of ready-mix concrete that had been left uncovered by the fellow rebuilding the stone seawall. All had been soaked and were now petrified, unusable.
Nevertheless, I departed for Plattsburgh relieved that we’d escaped virtually unharmed.
This is where my notes end. The day would force me to recalculate my earlier conclusions. Yes, Susan and I had been fortunate. Rosslyn had been virtually unscathed by Irene. But many of our neighbors in Whallonsburg, Willsboro and Wadhams and throughout the Champlain Valley were underwater.
Normally I’d drive through Willsboro, up and over Willsboro Mountain and then pick up “The Northway” (NYS Route 87) north to Plattsburgh. But I’d already heard that roads were closed beyond Willsboro, so I turned south toward the ferry dock to try another route. Our Town Supervisor was directing traffic at a road block, so I stopped and rolled down my window.
“What a mess. Roads are closed everywhere.”
“Can I get to Plattsburgh?”
“Route 12 is the only access to The Northway.”
“Toward Lewis? That’s fine.”
“Would you show those folks how to get to Meadowmount?” she asked, pointing at a car with out-of-state tags that was parked across from the Masonic Hall.
“Sure.”
“Good luck!”
I pulled in front of the car and parked. I introduced myself to the driver and explained that they could follow me to Meadowmount. They were grateful.
With 20/20 hindsight I should have realized that I would need to take Route 12 to the Lewis exit on the Northway and then cross over and lead them into Meadowmount from Betty Beavers Truck Stop. But there are a half dozen local routes between Essex and Lewis that would be quicker. It never occurred to me that all of them could be flooded.
They were. And over the next thirty minutes I tried every one only to be stopped at road blocks or unmarked, submerged roads. Staggering. But most heart breaking of all was Whallonsburg, a hamlet of Essex a couple of miles inland from Lake Champlain. The Boquet River flows directly through the middle of Whallonsburg and it had flooded so high that five or six houses along the river were totally inundated. A couple of homes had water up the the second story windows! Emergency services had been set up at The Whallonsburg Grange, and volunteers were directing traffic and assisting displaced residents.
I would revisit this heartbreaking scene the following day during a bicycle ride assessing the damage all along the Boquet River corridor. By then the water had retreated and residents were dragging furniture and carpets and clothing and books and appliances out onto their yards. Over the next couple of days enormous dumpsters were filled with the destroyed possessions. During my most recent conversation with a friend who lives in Whallonsburg I learned that at least one and maybe more of the homes were condemned. Despite the devastation, it’s been heartening to experience the community spirit and volunteerism that have resulted. The community has pulled together to help the residents effected by Irene with a fundraiser (Good Night, Irene) and countless hours of volunteerism.
Still trying to absorb the depressing situation in Whallonsburg I proceeded to attempt one road after another. And it seemed that with each “dead end” our entourage collected another vehicle. In due course our entire caravan made it out to The Northway, hopefully in time for one of the cars to make it to the airport without missing their flight. At Betty Beavers I got out and explained to the first car how to get to Meadowmount and offered them my card in case they got stuck. Only a few days later I received a gracious email from them explaining that they made it safely to the music school where their son had studied some years prior.
I mention this detail for the same reason I explained the community recovery efforts in Whallonsburg. Irene’s proverbial silver lining may be the humanizing influence. People connecting and helping one another. This was also the case last spring when Lake Champlain flooded its banks for weeks on end. In both natural disasters the disruption and destruction were catastrophic, but in both cases effected communities rallied and supported one another. This civic responsibility, this community spirit underpins the attractive North Country lifestyle that has embraced us since moving from New York City to Essex in 2006.
In closing, the photograph at the top of this post was taken after Lake Champlain’s water level rapidly rose due to the runoff from Irene. Although it pales in comparison to the water levels last spring, it was surreal to watch our beach disappear as water levels returned to typical spring levels.
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!
Steven Kellogg and Bill McKibben at Champlain Area Trails event in Essex, NY.
Monday morning media mashup? From Champlain Area Trails (CATS) to Old Adirondack, there are so many local news updates directly related to Rosslyn that I’ve collected the half dozen most relevant links for you. The titles are clickable links to the primary content, so once you’ve read each blurb (in most cases excerpted directly from the article/post/site) you can easily access the full story by clicking the link. Easy! In most cases the Rosslyn connection will be pretty obvious, but one or two might need some additional information. Feel free to ask me for clarification via comments on the bottom of this blog post, Twitter (@rosslynredux) or Facebook. Thanks!
Champlain Area Trails Hosts Author McKibben I spent the loveliest Saturday afternoon of 2011 at the home of acclaimed illustrator and author, Steven Kellogg. Kellogg hosted a lively and family-friendly fundraiser for Champlain Area Trails (“CATS”) at his historic Blockhouse Farm in Essex, New York. 70 degrees in a clear blue sky, a light breeze, and the sweeping grounds organically manicured sloping to an immense vista of Lake Champlain – exactly what you dream of when you think “summer day” in the Adirondacks. The postcard-perfect weather and view seemed to join us in celebrating CATS’ mission to link communities and connect people with nature. The focal point of the festivities was author and educator, Bill McKibben. (LakePlacid.com)
USGS real-time water data for Lake Champlain: 101.87 feet Despite growing superstitions about acknowledging falling water levels on Lake Champlain, I must celebrate the good news. Our majestic lake has finally fallen beneath 102 feet. The last week has been marked by a rapidly dropping water level, and despite threats of a torrential downpour later this week, my optimism is rekindled. I only hope that progress is made quickly enough for local marinas, waterside restaurants and other businesses compromised by Lake Champlain flooding to recover. (USGS)
Essex County asks for emergency reassessments It would take an act of the State Legislature to adjust the tax assessments of people with severe flood damage from recent storms… [according to] Essex County Real Property Tax Service Director Charli Lewis… The committee promptly voted unanimously to ask the State Legislature to give local assessors the power to devalue properties that were walloped by the severe storms of late April and because of continued flooding. (Press Republican)
Lake Champlain marinas assess damage As the water level slowly begins to recede on Lake Champlain, marina owners and managers are beginning to assess the damage. According to Mike Winslow, a staff scientist with the Lake Champlain Committee, at this time of year, the average lake level is 95 feet… “We average approximately one week for the lake to drop 1 foot under ideal weather conditions,” he said. “The flooding has affected marinas, restaurants and any other facilities close to the lake. There’s a severe economic toll that this flooding is causing. That effect has also drastically affected Canadian patronage due to level of the Richlieu (River) as well.” As recently as mid-week, the lake leveled hovered near 103 feet, still well above its all-time record high. (Press Republican)
This Week’s Adirondack Web Highlights On Friday afternoons Adirondack Almanack compiles a collection of the week’s top weblinks. Rosslyn Redux was featured this past Friday as one of ten intriguing Adirondack stories. Check them all out and get a taste of the Adirondack experience!
Willsboro Adirondack furniture maker closes Adirondack chairs may be riding a continuing wave of popularity, but one of the Adirondack Park’s most important furniture makes is closing it’s doors after a four year struggle to maintain its place in the market. Old Adirondack, located in Willsboro will lay off eleven full time employees… “The recession has done its damage and we just couldn’t last out the long hard slog any longer,” Maselli said. (North Country Public Radio)
