The Hudson Part 29

=Lake George to the Adirondacks.=

The reader who does not visit Lake George may feel that he is switched off on a side-track at Fort Edward; so, coming to his rescue, we return and resume our northern journey _via_ the main line, through Dunham's Basin, Smith's Basin, Fort Ann, and Comstock's Landing, to--

=Whitehall=, at the head of Lake Champlain. From this point north the _Delaware & Hudson_ crosses all thresholds for the Adirondacks, and shortens the journey to the mountain districts. It pa.s.ses through five mountain ranges, the most southerly, the Black Mountain range, terminating in Mt. Defiance, with scattering spurs coming down to the very sh.o.r.e of the lake. The second range is known as the Kayaderosseras, culminating in Bulwagga Mountain. The third range pa.s.ses through the western part of Schroon, the northern part of Moriah and centre of Westport, ending in Split Rock Mountain. The fourth range, the Bouquet range, ends in high bluffs on Willsboro Bay.

Here the famous Red-Hook Cut is located, and the longest tunnel on the line.

The fifth range, known as the Adirondack Range, as it includes the most lofty of the Adirondack Mountains, viz.: McIntyre, Colden and Tahawas, ends in a rocky promontory known as Tremblau Point, at Port Kent.

Afar the misty mountains piled, The Adirondacks soaring free, The dark green ranges lone and wild, The Catskills looking toward the sea.

_Benjamin F. Leggett._

No wonder, with these mountain ranges to get through, that the subject was agitated year after year, and it was only when the Delaware and Hudson Company placed their powerful shoulder to the wheel, that the work began to go forward. For these mountains meant tunnels, and rock cuts, and bridges, and _cash_. Leaving Whitehall, we enter a tunnel near the old steamboat landing, cross a marsh, which must have suggested the beginning of the Pilgrim's Progress, for it seemed almost bottomless, and pa.s.s along the narrow end of the lake, still marked by light-houses, where steamers once struggled and panted "like fish out of water," fulfilling the Yankee's ambition of running a boat on a heavy dew. Then winding in and out along the sh.o.r.e, we proceed to--

=Ticonderoga=, 23 miles from Whitehall. Here terminates the first range of the Adirondacks, to which we have already referred, viz.: Mount Defiance. Steamers connect with the train at this point on Lake Champlain, also with a railroad for Lake George. Near the station we get a view of old Port Ticonderoga, where Ethan Allen breakfasted early one morning, and said grace in a brief and emphatic manner. The lake now widens into a n.o.ble sheet of water; we cross the Lake George outlet, enter a deep rock-cut, which extends a distance of about 500 feet, and reach Crown Point thirty-four miles north of Whitehall.

Pa.s.sing along the sh.o.r.e of Bulwagga Bay we come to--

=Port Henry=, 40 miles from Whitehall. A few miles further the railroad leaves the lake at Mullen Brook, the first departure since we left Whitehall, and we are greeted with cultivated fields and a charming landscape.

=Westport=, 51 miles from Whitehall, is the railroad station for--

=Elizabethtown=, the county seat of Ess.e.x. It is about eight miles from the station, nestled among the mountains. A county consisting mostly of mountain scenery could have no happier location for a head-centre. Elizabethtown forms a most delightful gateway to the Adirondacks either by stage route or pedestrian tour.

A health to Ethan Allen and our commander Gates; To Lincoln and to Washington whom every Tory hates; Likewise unto our Congress, G.o.d grant it long to reign, Our country's right and justice forever to maintain.

_Saratoga Revolutionary Ballad._

A short distance north of Westport we enter the well-cultivated Bouquet Valley, and after a pleasant run come to Wellsboro Falls, where we enter seven miles of rock cutting. The road is about 90 feet above the lake, and the cuts in many places from 90 to 100 feet high.

After leaving Red-Rock cut, we pa.s.s through a tunnel 600 feet long.

Crossing Higby's Gorge and rounding Tremblau Mountain, we reach--

=Port Kent=, the connecting point for the progressive village of Keeseville.

=Ausable Chasm=, is only three miles from the station of Port Kent. It is many years since we visited the Chasm, but its pictures are still stamped upon our mind clearly and definitely--the ledge at Birmingham Falls, the Flume, the Devil's Pulpit, and the boat ride on the swift current. Indeed, the entire rock-rift, almost two miles in length, left an impression never to be effaced. The one thing especially peculiar, on account of the trend of the rock-layers was the illusion that we were floating up stream, and that the river compressed in these narrow limits, had "got tired" of finding its way out, until it thought that the easiest way was to run up hill and get out at the top.

Hear what the gray-haired woodmen tell Of this wild stream and its rocky dell.

_William Cullen Bryant._

=Bluff Point.=--On a commanding site 200 feet above the lake some three miles south of Plattsburgh, stands the superb "Hotel Champlain"

commanding a view far-reaching and magnificent, from the Green Mountains on the east to the Adirondacks on the west. The hotel grounds comprise the same number of acres as the islands of Lake George, 365. The hotel is 400 feet long. We condense the following description from the "Delaware and Hudson Guide-book," which we can heartily endorse from many personal visits:

"Resolute has been the struggle here with nature, where rocks, tangled forest and matted roots crowned the chosen spot; but upon the broad, smooth plateau finally created the Hotel Champlain has been placed, and all the surrounding forest, its solitudes still untamed, has been converted into a superb park, threaded with drives and bridle paths.

At the foot of the gradual western slope of the ridge the handsome station of Bluff Point has been located beside the main line of the _Delaware & Hudson Railroad_, the chief highway of pleasure and commercial travel between New York, Saratoga, Lake George, the Adirondacks and Canada.

"From the station where the coaches of the hotel await expected guests, a winding pike, the very perfection of a road, leads up the hill. From the carriage, as it rises to the crest, a wondrous outlook to the westward is opened to view. Nearly a thousand square miles of valley, lake and mountain are within range of the eye or included in the area encircled by visible peaks. As the porch of the hotel is reached, the view, enhanced by the fine foreground, is indeed beautiful, but still finer is the grandeur of the scene from the arches of the tall central dome of the house.

"To the southward we see Whiteface, showing, late in spring and early in autumn, its coronet of almost perpetual snow; and in a grand circle still more southward we see in succession McIntyre, Marcy (both over 5,000 feet high), Haystack, Dix, the Gothic peaks, Hurricane and the Giant. This n.o.ble sisterhood of mountains rises from the very heart of the wilderness, and yet the guests at the Hotel Champlain may reach any portion of their environment within a few hours."

The fine equipment and frequent train service of the _Delaware & Hudson_ between New York and Bluff Point without change, by daylight or at night, and the direct connection of the same line with the Hudson River steamboats, places this resort high upon the list of available summering points in the dry and healthful north for families from the metropolis. Travel from the west, coming down the St.

Lawrence River, or through Canada _via_ Montreal, will find Bluff Point easy to reach; while from the White Mountains and New England seash.o.r.e resorts it is accessible by through trains _via_ St. Albans or Burlington.

The western sh.o.r.e of Lake Champlain forms the margin of the most varied and altogether delightful wilderness to be found anywhere upon this continent east of the Rocky Mountains. The serried peaks to the westward are in plain view from its sh.o.r.es, their foot-hills ending in lofty and often abrupt ridges where they meet the lake. Three impetuous rivers, the Saranac, the Salmon and the Ausable, flow down from the cool, clear lakes, hidden away in the wildwood, and, breaking through this barrier at and in the vicinity of Plattsburgh, contribute not only to the lucid waters of Lake Champlain but greatly to the picturesque variety of the region.

There lie broad acres laced with rills And gemmed with lake and pond Behind a wave of wooded hills And mountain peaks beyond.

_Benjamin F. Leggett._

=Plattsburgh=, 168 miles from Albany, at the mouth of the Saranac, is a delightful threshold to the Adirondacks. The northern part of Lake Champlain offers special attractions to camping parties. The sh.o.r.es and islands abound in excellent sites. Lake Champlain is also replete with interest to the historian. The ruins of Fort St. Anne are still seen on the north end of the Isle La Mott, built by the French in 1660. Valcour Strait, where one of the battles of '76 was fought; Valcour's Island, where lovers came from far and near, built air castles, wandered through these shady groves for a season or two, and then vanished from sight, bankrupt in everything but mutual affection; c.u.mberland Bay, with its victory, September, 1814, when the British were driven back to Canada; and many other points which can be visited by steamer or yacht.

It is thirty years since I made my first trip to the Saranacs and I remember well the long journey of those early days, but now we can step aboard a well equipped train at Plattsburgh and in five or six hours stand by the bright waters of the Lower Saranac, which might to-day be called the centre and starting point for all resorts and camping grounds in the eastern lake district of the Adirondacks.

Floating about the Saranac Islands of a summer evening, roaming among forest trees, strolling over to the little village one mile distant, and absorbing the rich exhilaration of a life of untrammeled freedom, with a perfect hotel, and blazing fire-places if the weather happens to be unpleasant, form a grand combination, alike for tourists or seekers after rest.

Where rosy zephyr lingers All the livelong day, With health upon his pinions And gladness on his way.

_George P. Morris._

SOURCE OF THE HUDSON.

In our journey from Albany to Plattsburgh, we have indicated various routes to the Adirondacks: By way of Saratoga and North Creek to Blue Mountain Lake following the course of the Hudson which might therefor be called "The Hudson Gateway;" _via_ Lake George, Westport, and Elizabethtown, suited for carriage and pedestrian trips, and _via_ Plattsburgh, which might be termed "The Northern Portal." In addition to these it has been my lot to make several trips up the valley of the Sacandaga to Lake Pleasant and Indian Lake, and _via_ Schroon Lake to Sanford and Lake Henderson--and four times to ascend the mountain trail of Tahawas to the tiny rills and fountains of the Hudson, but one trip abides in memory distinct and unrivalled, which may be of service to those who wish to visit in fact or fancy the head waters of the Hudson.

=The Tahawas Club.=--We took the cars one bright August morning from Plattsburgh to Ausable Forks, a distance of twenty miles, hired a team to Beede's, some thirty miles distant from the "Forks;" took dinner at Keene, and pursued our route up the beautiful valley of the Ausable.

From this point we visited Roaring-Brook Falls, some four hundred feet high, a very beautiful waterfall in the evening twilight. The next morning we started, bright and early, for the Ausable Ponds. Four miles brought us to the Lower Ausable. The historic guide, "old Phelps," rowed us across the lower lake, pointing out, from our slowly moving and heavily laden scow, "Indian Head" on the left, and the "Devil's Pulpit" on the right, lifted about eight hundred feet above the level of the lake. "Phelps" remarked with quaint humor, that he was frequently likened to his Satanic Majesty, as he often took clergymen "up thar." The rocky walls of this lake rise from one thousand to fifteen hundred feet high, in many places almost perpendicular. A large eagle soared above the cliffs, and circled in the air above us, which we took as a good omen of our journey.