FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER TO TICONDEROGA, LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
THE RICHELIEU RIVER.--ACADIAN SCENES.--ST. OURS.--ST. ANTOINE.--ST.
MARKS.--BELOEIL.--CHAMBLY CANAL.--ST. JOHNS.--LAKE CHAMPLAIN.--THE
GREAT SHIP-CANAL.--DAVID BODFISH'S CAMP.--THE ADIRONDACK SURVEY.--A
CANVAS BOAT.--DIMENSIONS OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.--PORT KENT.--AUSABLE
CHASM.--ARRIVAL AT TICONDEROGA.
Quebec was founded by Champlain, July 3, 1680. During his first warlike
expedition into the land of the Iroquois the following year, escorted by
Algonquin and Montagnais Indian allies, he ascended a river to which was
afterwards given the name of Cardinal Richelieu, prime minister of Louis
XIII. of France. This stream, which is about eighty miles long, connects
the lake (which Champlain discovered and named after himself) with the
St. Lawrence River at a point one hundred and forty miles above Quebec,
and forty miles below Montreal. The waters of lakes George and Champlain
flow northward, through the Richelieu River into the St. Lawrence. The
former stream flows through a cultivated country, and upon its banks,
after leaving Sorel, are situate the little towns of St. Ours, St.
Rock, St. Denis, St. Antoine, St. Marks, Beloeil, Chambly, and St.
Johns. Small steamers, tug-boats, and rafts pass from the St. Lawrence
to Lake Champlain (which lies almost wholly within the United States),
following the Richelieu to Chambly, where it is necessary, to avoid
rapids and shoals, to take the canal that follows the river's bank
twelve miles to St. Johns, where the Canadian custom-house is located.
Sorel is called William Henry by the Anglo-Saxon Canadians. The paper
published in this town of seven thousand inhabitants is _La Gazette de
Sorel_. The river which flows past the town is called, without
authority, by some geographers, Sorel River, and by others St. Johns,
because the town nearest its source is St. Johns, and another town at
its mouth is Sorel. There are about one hundred English-speaking
families in Sorel. The American Waterhouse Machinery supplies the town
with water pumped from the river at a cost of one ton of coal per day.
At ten o'clock on Monday morning we resumed our journey up the
Richelieu, the current of which was nothing compared with that of the
great river we had left. The average width of the stream was about a
quarter of a mile, and the grassy shores were made picturesque by
groves of trees and quaintly constructed farm-houses.
It was a rich, pastoral land, abounding in fine herds of cattle. The
country reminded me of the Acadian region of Grand Pre, which I had
visited during the earlier part of the season. Here, as there, were
delightful pastoral scenes and rich verdure; but here we still had the
Acadian peasants, while in the land of beautiful Evangeline no longer
were they to be found. The New Englander now holds the titles to those
deserted old farms of the scattered colonists. Our rowing was frequently
interrupted by heavy showers, which drove us under our hatch-cloth for
protection. The same large, two-steepled stone churches, with their
unpainted tin roofs glistening like silver in the sunlight, marked
out here, as on the high banks of the St. Lawrence River, the site
of a village.
Twelve miles of rowing brought us to St. Ours, where we rested for the
night, after wandering through its shaded and quaint streets. The
village boys and girls came down to see us off the next morning, waving
their kerchiefs, and shouting "_Bon voyage!_" Two miles above the town
we encountered a dam three feet high, which deepened the water on a
shoal above it. We passed through a single lock in company with rafts of
pine logs which were on the way to New York, to be used for spars. A
lockage fee of twenty-five cents for our boat the lock-master told us
would be collected at Chambly Basin. It was a pull of nearly six miles
to St. Denis, where the same scene of comfort and plenty prevailed.
Women were washing clothes in large iron pots at the river's edge, and
the hum of the spinning-wheels issued from the doorways of the
farm-houses. Beehives in the well-stocked gardens were filled with
honey, and the straw-thatched barns had their doors thrown wide open, as
though waiting to receive the harvest. At intervals along the highway,
over the grassy hills, tall, white wooden crosses were erected; for this
people, like the Acadians of old, are very religious. Down the current
floated "pin-flats," a curious scow-like boat, which carries a square
sail, and makes good time only when running before the wind. St. Antoine
and St. Marks were passed, and the isolated peak of St. Hilaire loomed
up grandly twelve hundred feet on the right bank of the Richelieu,
opposite the town of Beloeil. One mile above Beloeil the Grand Trunk
Railroad crosses the stream, and here we passed the night. Strong winds
and rain squalls interrupted our progress. At Chambly Basin we tarried
until the evening of July 16, before entering the canal. Chambly is a
watering-place for Montreal people, who come here to enjoy the fishing,
which is said to be fair.
We had ascended one water-step at St. Ours. Here we had eight steps to
ascend within the distance of one mile. By means of eight locks, each
one hundred and ten feet long by twenty-two wide, the Mayeta was lifted
seventy-five feet and one inch in height to the upper level of the
canal. The lock-masters were courteous, and wished us the usual "_bon
voyage!_" This canal was built thirty-four years prior to my visit. By
ten o'clock P. M. we had passed the last lock, and went into camp in a
depression in the bank of the canal. The journey was resumed at half
past three o'clock the following morning, and the row of twelve miles to
St. Johns was a delightful one. The last lock (the only one at St.
Johns) was passed, and we had a full clearance at the Dominion
custom-house before noon.
We were again on the Richelieu, with about twenty-three miles between us
and the boundary line of the United States and Canada, and with very
little current to impede us. As dusk approached we passed a dismantled
old fort, situated upon an island called Ile aux Noix, and entered a
region inhabited by the large bull-frog, where we camped for the night,
amid the dolorous voices of these choristers. On Saturday, the 18th, at
an early hour, we were pulling for the United States, which was about
six miles from our camping-ground. The Richelieu widened, and we entered
Lake Champlain, passing Fort Montgomery, which is about one thousand
feet south of the boundary line. Champlain has a width of three fourths
of a mile at Fort Montgomery, and at Rouse's Point expands to two miles
and three quarters. The erection of the fort was commenced soon after
1812, but in 1818 the work was suspended, as some one discovered that
the site was in Canada, and the cognomen of Fort Blunder was applied. In
the Webster treaty of 1842, England ceded the ground to the United
States, and Fort Montgomery was finished at a cost of over half a
million of dollars.
At Rouse's Point, which lies on the west shore of Lake Champlain about
one and one-half miles south of its confluence with the Richelieu, the
Mayeta was inspected by the United States custom-house officer, and
nothing contraband being discovered, the little craft was permitted to
continue her voyage.
At the northern end of the harbor of Rouse's Point is the terminus of
the Ogdensburg and the Champlain and St. Lawrence railroads. The Vermont
Central Railroad connects with the above by means of a bridge twenty-two
hundred feet in length, which crosses the lake. Before proceeding
further it may interest the reader of practical mind to know that a very
important movement is on foot to facilitate the navigation of vessels
between the great Lakes, St. Lawrence River, and Champlain, by the
construction of a ship-canal. The Caughnawaga Ship Canal Company,
"incorporated by special act of the Dominion of Parliament of Canada,
12th May, 1870," (capital, three million dollars; shares, one hundred
dollars each,) with a board of directors composed of citizens of the
United States and Canada, has issued its prospectus, from which I
extract the following:
"The commissioners of public works, in their report of 1859,
approved by government, finally settled the question of route,
by declaring that, 'after a patient and mature consideration of
all the surveys and reports, we are of opinion that the line
following the Chambly Canal and then crossing to Lake St. Louis
near Caughnawaga, is that which combines and affords in the
greatest degree all the advantages contemplated by this
improvement, and which has been approved by Messrs. Mills,
Swift, and Gamble.'
"The company's Act of Incorporation is in every respect complete
and comprehensive in its details. It empowers the company to
survey, to take, appropriate, have and hold, to and for the use
of them and their successors, the line and boundaries of a canal
between the St. Lawrence and Lake Champlain, to build and erect
the same, to select such sites as may be necessary for basins
and docks, as may be considered expedient by the directors, and
to purchase and dispose of same, with any water-power, as may be
deemed best by the directors for the use and profit of the
company.
"It also empowers the company to cause their canal to enter into
the Chambly Canal, and to widen, deepen, and enlarge the same,
not less in size than the present St. Lawrence canals; also the
company may take, hold, and use any portion of the Chambly
Canal, and the works therewith connected, and all the tolls,
receipts, and revenues thereof, upon terms to be settled and
agreed upon between the company and the governor in council.
"The cost of the canal, with locks of three hundred feet by
forty-five, and with ten feet six inches the mitre-sill, is now
estimated at two million five hundred thousand dollars, and the
time for its construction may not exceed two years after
breaking ground.
"Probably no question is of more vital importance to Canada and
the western and eastern United States than the subject of
transportation. The increasing commerce of the Great West, the
rapidity with which the population has of late flowed into that
vast tract of country to the west and northwest of lakes Erie,
Michigan, Huron, and Superior, have served to convince all
well-informed commercial men that the means of transit between
that country and the seaboard are far too limited even for the
present necessities of trade; hence it becomes a question of
universal interest how the products of the field, the mine, and
the forest can be most cheaply forwarded to the consumer. Near
the geographical centre of North America is a vast plateau two
thousand feet above the level of the sea, drained by the
Mississippi to the south, by the St. Lawrence to the east, and
by the Saskatchewan and McKenzie to the north. This vast
territory would have been valueless but for the water lines
which afford cheap transport between it and the great markets of
the world.
"Canada has improved the St. Lawrence by canals round the rapids
of the St. Lawrence, and by the Welland Canal, connecting lakes
Erie and Ontario, twenty-eight miles in length with a fall of
two hundred and sixty feet, capable of passing vessels of four
hundred tons. The St. Lawrence, from the east end of Lake
Ontario, has a fall of two hundred and twenty feet, overcome by
seven short canals of an aggregate length of forty-seven miles,
capable of passing vessels of six hundred and fifty tons. The
Richelieu River is connected with Lake Champlain by a canal of
twelve miles from Chambly. A canal of one mile in length, at the
outlet of Lake Superior, connects that lake with Lake Huron, and
has two locks, which will pass vessels of two thousand tons. New
York has built a canal from Buffalo, on Lake Erie, and from
Oswego, on Lake Ontario, to Albany, on the Hudson River, of
three hundred and sixty and of two hundred and nine miles,
capable of passing boats of two hundred and ten tons; and she
has also constructed a canal from the Hudson River into Lake
Champlain of sixty-five miles, which can pass boats of eighty
tons.
"Such is the nature of the navigation between tide-water on the
Hudson and St. Lawrence and the upper lakes. The magnitude of
the commerce of the Northwest has compelled the enlargement of
the Erie and Oswego canals from boats of seventy-eight to two
hundred and ten tons, while the St. Lawrence and Welland canals
have also been enlarged since their first construction. A
further enlargement of the Erie and Champlain canals is now
strongly urged in consequence of the want of the necessary
facilities of transport for the ever increasing western trade.
The object of the Caughnawaga Ship-canal is to connect Lake
Champlain with the St. Lawrence by the least possible distance,
and with the smallest amount of lockage. When built, it will
enable the vessel or propeller to sail from the head of lakes
Superior or Michigan without breaking bulk, and will enable such
vessels to land and receive cargo at Burlington and Whitehall,
from whence western freights can be carried to and from Boston,
and throughout New England, by railway cheaper than by any other
route.
"It will possess the advantage, when the Welland Canal is
enlarged and the locks of the St. Lawrence Canal lengthened, of
passing vessels of eight hundred and fifty tons' burden, and
with that size of vessel (impossible on any other route) of
improved model, with facilities for loading and discharging
cargoes at both ends of the route, in the length of the voyage
without transshipment, in having the least distance between any
of the lake ports and a seaport, and in having the shortest
length of taxed canal navigation. The construction of the
Caughnawaga Canal, when carried out, will remedy the
difficulties which now exist and stand in the way of an
uninterrupted water communication between the western states
and the Atlantic seaboard."
From Rouse's Point we proceeded to a picturesque point which jutted into
the lake below Chazy Landing, and was sheltered by a grove of trees into
which we hauled the Mayeta. Bodfish's woodcraft enabled him to construct
a wigwam out of rails and rubber blankets, where we quietly resided
until Monday morning. The owner of the point, Mr. Trombly, invited us to
dinner on Sunday, and exhibited samples of a ton of maple sugar which he
had made from the sap of one thousand trees.
On Monday, July 20th, we rowed southward. Our route now skirted the
western shore of Lake Champlain, which is the eastern boundary of the
great Adirondack wilderness. Several of the tributaries of the lake take
their rise in this region, which is being more and more visited by the
hunter, the fisherman, the artist, and the tourist, as its natural
attractions are becoming known to the public. The geodetical survey of
the northern wilderness of New York state, known as the Adirondack
country, under the efficient and energetic labors of Mr. Verplanck
Colvin, will cover an area of nearly five thousand square miles. In his
report of the great work he eloquently says:
"The Adirondack wilderness may be considered the wonder and
the glory of New York. It is a vast _natural_ park, one immense
and silent forest, curiously and beautifully broken by the
gleaming waters of a myriad of lakes, between which rugged
mountain-ranges rise as a sea of granite billows. At the
northeast the mountains culminate within an area of some
hundreds of square miles; and here savage, treeless peaks,
towering above the timber line, crowd one another, and,
standing gloomily shoulder to shoulder, rear their rocky crests
amid the frosty clouds. The wild beasts may look forth from the
ledges on the mountain-sides over unbroken woodlands stretching
beyond the reach of sight--beyond the blue, hazy ridges at the
horizon. The voyager by the canoe beholds lakes in which these
mountains and wild forests are reflected like inverted reality;
now wondrous in their dark grandeur and solemnity, now glorious
in resplendent autumn color of pearly beauty. Here--thrilling
sound to huntsman--echoes the wild melody of the hound,
awakening the solitude with deep-mouthed bay as he pursues the
swift career of deer. The quavering note of the loon on the
lake, the mournful hoot of the owl at night, with rarer forest
voices, have also to the lover of nature their peculiar charm,
and form the wild language of this forest.
"It is this region of lakes and mountains--whose mountain core
is well shown by the illustration, 'the heart of the
Adirondacks'--that our citizens desire to reserve forever as a
public forest park, not only as a resort of rest for themselves
and for posterity, but for weighty reasons of political economy.
For reservoirs of water for the canals and rivers; for the
amelioration of spring floods by the preservation of the forests
sheltering the deep winter snows; for the salvation of the
timber,--our only cheap source of lumber supply should the
Canadian and western markets be ruined by fires, or otherwise
lost to us,--its preservation as a state forest is urgently
demanded. To the number of those chilly peaks amid which our
principal rivers take their rise, I have added by measurement a
dozen or more over four thousand feet in height, which were
before either nameless, or only vaguely known by the names given
them by hunters and trappers.
"It is well to note that the final hypsometrical computations
fully affirm my discovery that in Mount Haystack we have another
mountain of five thousand feet altitude. It may not be
uninteresting also to remark that the difference between the
altitudes of Mount Marcy and Mount Washington of the White
Mountains of New Hampshire is found to be quite eight hundred
feet. Mount Marcy, Mount MacIntyre, and Mount Haystack are to be
remembered as the three royal summits of the state.
"The four prominent peaks are--
Mount Marcy {Mount _Tahawus_--"I cleave}
{ the clouds," } 5,402.65
Mount Haystack, 5,006.73
Mount MacIntyre, 5,201.80
Mount Skylight, 4,977.76."
If the general reader will pardon a seeming digression to gratify the
curiosity of some of my boating friends, I will give from the report of
the Adirondack Survey Mr. Colvin's account of his singular boat,--one of
the lightest yet constructed, and weighing only as much as a hunter's
double-barrelled gun.
Mr. Colvin says:
"I also had constructed a canvas boat, of my own invention, for
use in the interior of the wilderness on such of the mountain
lakes as were inaccessible to boats, and which it would be
necessary to map. This boat was peculiar; no more frame being
needed than could be readily cut in thirty minutes in the first
thicket. It was twelve feet long, with thin sheet brass prows,
riveted on, and so fitted as to receive the keelson, prow
pieces, and ribs (of boughs), when required; the canoe being
made water-proof with pure rubber gum, dissolved in naphtha,
rubbed into it."
Page 43 of Mr. Colvin's report informs the reader how well this novel
craft served the purpose for which it was built.
"September 12 was devoted to levelling and topographical work at
Ampersand Pond, a solitary lake locked in by mountains, and
seldom visited. There was no boat upon its surface, and in order
to complete the hydrographical work we had now, of necessity, to
try my portable canvas boat, which had hitherto done service as
bed or tent. Cutting green rods for ribs, we unrolled the boat
and tied them in, lashing poles for gunwales at the sides, and
in a short time our canvas canoe, buoyant as a cork, was
floating on the water. The guides, who had been unable to
believe that the flimsy bag they carried could be used as a
boat, were in ecstasies. Rude but efficient paddles were hastily
hewn from the nearest tree, and soon we were all gliding in our
ten-pound boat over the waves of Ampersand, which glittered in
the morning sunlight. To the guides the boat was something
astonishing; they could not refrain from laughter to find that
they were really afloat in it, and pointed with surprise at the
waves, which could be seen _through_ the boat, rippling against
its sides. With the aid of the boat, with prismatic compass and
sextant, I was able to secure an excellent map of the lake; and
we almost succeeded in catching a deer, which was driven into
the lake by a strange hound. The dog lost the trail at the
water, and desiring to put him on the track, we paddled to him.
He scrambled into the boat with an air of satisfaction, as if he
had always travelled in just such a thing. Soon we had regained
the trail, and making the mountains echo to his voice, he again
pursued the deer on into the trackless forest.
"Continuing our work, we passed down into the outlet, where, in
trying to effect a landing, we suddenly came face to face with a
large panther, which had evidently been watching us. He fled at
our approach.
"Our baggage was quickly packed, and the temporary frame of the
canoe having been taken out and thrown away, we rolled up our
boat and put it in the bottom of a knapsack.... The same day by
noon we reached Cold Brook again, here navigable. In an hour and
a half we had re-framed the canvas, cut out two paddles from a
dry cedar-tree, had dinner, loaded the boat, and were off,
easily gliding down stream to the Saranac River. Three men, the
heaped baggage in the centre, and the solemn hound, who seemed
to consider himself part of the company, sitting upright near
the prow, forming in all a burden of about one third of a ton,
was a severe test of the green boughs of which we had made the
frame.
"Ascending the Saranac River, we struck out into the broad
Saranac Lake, some six miles in length, and though the winds and
the waves buffeted us, the canvas sides of the boat responding
elastically to each beat of the waves, we got safely along till
near the Sister Islands, when, the wind blowing very fresh, the
white-capped rollers began to pitch into the boat. The exertions
of the guides brought us under the lee shore, and at evening we
disembarked at Martin's."
Geographies, guide-books, and historical works frequently give the
length of Lake Champlain as one hundred and fifty, or at the least one
hundred and forty miles. These distances are not correct. The lake
proper begins at a point near Ticonderoga and ends not far from the
boundary line of the United States and Canada. Champlain is not less
than one hundred nor more than one hundred and twelve miles long. The
Champlain Canal, which connects the river that flows from Whitehall into
the lake with the Hudson River, is sixty-four miles long, ending at the
Erie Canal at Junction Lock, near Troy. From Junction Lock to Albany,
along the Erie Canal, it is six miles: or seventy miles from Whitehall
to Albany by canal route. This distance has frequently been given as
fifty-one miles.
From the United States boundary line southward it is a distance of seven
miles to Isle la Motte, which island is five and a half miles long by
one and three quarters wide, with a light-house upon its northwest
point. From the New York shore of Monti Bay, across the end of Isle la
Motte to St. Albans, Vermont, is a distance of thirteen and a half
miles. Two miles south of the island, on the west shore, is Point au
Roche light; and two miles and three quarters south of it is Rocky
Point, the terminus of Long Point. Next comes Treadwell Bay, three miles
across; then two miles further on is Cumberland Head and its
light-house. West from Cumberland, three miles across a large bay, is
Plattsburgh, at the mouth of the Saranac River, a town of five thousand
inhabitants. In this vicinity Commodore Macdonough fought the British
fleet in 1814. These are historic waters, which have witnessed the scene
of many a bloody struggle between French, English, and Indian
adversaries. Off Cumberland Head, and dividing the lake, is Grand Isle,
twelve miles in length and from three to four in width.
The village of Port Kent is near the mouth of the Ausable River, which
flows out of the northern Adirondack country. A few miles from the lake
is the natural wonder, the Ausable Chasm, which is nearly two miles in
length. The river has worn a channel in the Potsdam sandstone formation
to a depth, in places, of two hundred feet. Between high walls of rock
the river is compressed in one place to ten feet in breadth, and dashes
wildly over falls and rapids on its way to Lake Champlain. It is said to
rival the famous Swiss Gorge du Triant.
Schuyler's Island, upon the shore of which we passed Tuesday night, is
nearly in the latitude of Burlington, Vermont. The distance from Port
Douglass on the west, to Burlington on the east side of Champlain, over
an open expanse of water, is nine miles and three quarters. We
breakfasted by starlight, and passed Ligonier's Point early in the day.
One mile and a half east of it is the group of little islands called
Four Brothers. The lake grew narrower as we rowed southward, until,
after passing Port Henry Iron Works, and the high promontory of Crown
Point, upon which are the ruins of the French Fort Frederic, built in
1731, it has a width of only two miles.
At eight o'clock P. M. we dropped anchor under the banks of Ticonderoga,
not far from the outlet of Lake George. It is four miles by road between
the two lakes. The stream which connects them can be ascended from
Champlain about two miles to the Iron Works, the remainder of the river
being filled with rapids.
A railroad now (1867) connects lakes George and Champlain, over which an
easy portage can be made. The ruined walls of Fort Ticonderoga are near
the railroad landing. A little south of this the lake grows so narrow as
to resemble a river. At its southern end, twenty-four miles from
Ticonderoga, is situated the town of Whitehall, where the Champlain and
Hudson River Canal forms a junction with Lake Champlain. This long
river-like termination of Champlain gave to the Indians the fancy of
calling it _Tisinondrosa_--"the tail of the lake;" which in mouths
inexperienced with the savage tongue became corrupted into Ticonderoga.
Wednesday broke upon us a glorious day. Proceeding three miles to
Patterson's Landing, into the "tail of the lake," I left the Mayeta to
explore on foot the shores of Lake George, promising Bodfish to join him
at Whitehall when my work should be finished.