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Well, well, well. This is now what my beloved Adirondack Mountains look like?

Made up of stage coaches, state dams, steam boats and a diabolical paved road?

Did they have to build the road right beside the lake? Look at all those beautiful dead trees along Sixth Lake.

Isn’t progress charming?

6 7 8

The cause is lost. There is no going back. The only thing us natives can do is to go deeper into the woods. Then they call us hermits.

They charge us with squatting on their land.

It wasn’t theirs in the first place. It was ours. It was peaceful. It was what God wanted it to be; not what man wanted it to be.

What did the railroad man think was going to happen? Is this what he wanted it to be? And the banker man and the land man and the lawyer man?

But I and other Adirondackers are also to blame. We want to get our hands on a few of the dollars that the city folk from Boston, New York, and Utica bring with them.

And then there are others from all along the great canal systems that crisscross New York State. They do not bring as much money but come by the hundreds.

This picture is all we have to show for those few dollars.

I weep. My parents would sob.

 

Tahawas and Tomosky c

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