My Valley - Page 14

Other outdoor sports were mudpies made under the three big pine trees between my home and the covered bridge. Here stood three small lumber piles of special manufacture and these served as play houses for Grace, Gertie and me. h6.jpg (42965 bytes)

How well I remember those happy times when I with the Campman girls, summer visitors from New York, named Mary and Clara, would take "foot-in-hand" and start out on a bright sunny morning to walk to White Lake three miles distant with the hope of getting a "lift" on some ox cart or other vehicle going our way. Very often nothing happened and we walked the entire distance, but we were vastly overpaid for our exertions by the day spent on the Lake rowing about from point to point watching other boats, other people, the sky and the changing clouds, in fact taking in everything. Glamorous would have been the name for it, had we known the word. In my day everything that pleased was termed "Lovely". Lovely day, lovely dresses, etc., etc.

Over on the north shore stood a shebang where we could buy soft drinks, candy and crackers for our lunch. By the end of the day we found ourselves home again, six miles to our credit, dirty and foot sore but not discouraged. Some other day would find us starting off in another direction, for Mongaup Valley environs were full of beauty spots to be explored.

White Lake was a fisherman's Paradise being full of black bass and pickerel as well as other fish and because many fishermen had fished in those waters it became a challenge to New York tired business men who yearly came to White Lake for rest and recreation to compete among themselves as to who would catch the largest fish and paint its outline on the Mansion House Front. One fellow actually wrote a long poem of which I recall only one short stanza:

"Morris may henceforth stick to pills
And Zellincoffer his woolen mills;
But on the Mansion House of fame
I'll paint a fish above my name
For them to view ."

(Morris was Dr. Sylvester Morris related to the Gillespies)

There is no inlet to this lake but it is led by springs and some parts are very deep and said to have no bottom. Persons I have talked with recall a long sandy beach on the northwest shore, then suddenly it was noted that the beach was entirely gone and the water at that spot was black and deep. The Rhododendron grows lavishly here, and a few years ago I made a trip in a row boat to this spot in early July and the scene was one of great beauty. The flowers were in full bloom having climbed to the height of 25-30 ft. and hanging over the clear water showed their reflection most vividly.

White Lake has always been considered a natural beauty spot in this part of the state and it still is but it has been so commercialized that one almost forgets its pristine loveliness as recalled by Street the poet. The name "White" refers to the white sand found at the bottom near the shores but the Indian name Kauneonga meaning "Two-wings" more nearly typifies its shape like the two wings of some large bird.