Last month’s night view of Singer Castle elicited several responses, one of which is from Patty Mondore who, with her husband Bob, is the co-author of two excellent Arcadia Publishing books about it. She recalls an evening spent there during the former owner’s reign when it was known as Jorstadt Castle.
I'd be remiss to not contribute something to this wonderful discussion on our favorite castle. Back about 25 years ago before I got married, the singles group from my church went and spent several "work" weekends at what was then Jorstadt Castle owned by Dr. Harold Martin and his wife Eloise. They were getting older (as was the castle) and appreciated some young hands to come and help out now and then. When 10 of us showed up one weekend, we were well aware that it would be a lot of mouths to feed (especially after a couple of days of hard work) so we decided to plan all of our meals and bring enough food to feed ourselves and the Martins. I assigned a different food to each of the members of the team. For the evening meal I assigned a single male engineer (who I figured made the most money of all of us) the job of the main course (as in, meat). Being an engineer, he took his calculations very seriously wanting to be sure there was enough for everyone. He calculated that about a quarter pound per person should be more than enough (even throwing in an extra pound or two for good measure). The only problem with that, was that he didn't take into consideration that when you buy a chicken, much of the weight includes the bones, gizzards, etc. So the five pound chicken ...well... shall I say...didn't quite meet the demands. But since it was all we had, we figured we would throw it in a pot and cook it, and hope for one of those biblical "loaves and fishes" experiences when we went to divide it up. As it was cooking, Dr. Martin wandered into the kitchen to get a sneak peek at what we were preparing for dinner. He lifted the lid off of the pot and to his great dismay (and perhaps just a little bit of humor) called to his wife, "Eloise, they're cooking us a pigeon". I remember eating a lot of dessert that night.
Patty Mondore, Jamesville, NY
A fitting story Patty, particularly as many of us are still recovering from holiday overindulgences!
I’m not sure what it has been like in your neck of the woods, but where I am, as well as on the River, this season has brought remarkably little white thus far, so I thought I’d share some with January’s wallpaper image.
Perhaps this will prompt you to share interesting stories of encounters with fog on the river, which can be pretty hair-raising. I well know, because I had just such an experience, not in my boat but in my plane while shooting images for one of the books a few years ago. There’s not room enough to relate the story here so it will have to wait until the book I've been writing with Donna Walsh Inglehart; “One in a Thousand” is released, hopefully sometime this summer.
I'm hoping you received an iPad for Christmas (if you didn’t already have one) because you’ll need one to read the book as the story will be told not just with words, but with images, slideshows, audio and video to bring the story alive in a richer form than text alone.
I'm also thrilled to mention that I may have recently solved the technical dilemma of creating the book, having discovered a cutting-edge company, widely respected for their vision and exceptional quality, serendipitously owned by a couple who are passionate about the 1000 Islands! How could I hope for more?
So my New Year's wish may already have come true. Here's hoping yours does too,
Ian Coristine
Download wide-angle version
Comments
Back in the 1960s, when I was a kid, a brother and I motored a good mile from our camp inside Chippewa Point one dead calm, foggy morning to the Channel Buoy (Superior Shoals, I believe) just outside the Point and a short distance upriver from Blind Bay. Visibility was poor to nil, and we navigated by the grayish silhouette of the shoreline. It was a bit eerie, and a lot intimidating, to listen to the rhythmic whop, whop, whop of a freighter's propeller as it chugged by -- unseen! -- especially when you considered we were in a 15 1/2 foot aluminum boat with a 10hp engine.
David Mallette posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
It was our rule of thumb in the tour boats at Rockport not to head over to Boldt Castle if we couldn't see Club Island. There is the long ago tale of Charlie Snider rounding Club Island on the way from Ivy Lea to Boldt Castle in one of the Miss Brockvilles with a full load of passengers and coming into heavy fog as they headed towards the foot of Mary Island. They proceeded at dead slow speed for a while until Charlie suddenly brought the boat to a full stop. The surrounding fog had become somewhat darker and the engines had taken on an deeper resonance. Upon investigation Charlie realized he had brought the boat perfectly into a boat house slip on Wellesley Island ! Although almost lost in the mists of time, so to speak, in my experience, these tales are almost always founded on a kernel of truth.
Paul Reilly posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
Ian, Thank you so much for bringing the castle alive again. We hope to spend our 60th anniversary there this year...It would top it off if we could see you again... God Bless!
Rev. Harvey &Flo Jones posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
Happy New Year Ian and yet another wonderful photograph of the Canadian Coast Guard, channel marker, small island and the highlight being that wonderful bird skimming over the water. Fog brings back many memories including teenage years when we would try to get "away from home" before the fog set in as we knew that was an automatic excuse to spend the night elsewhere. I did have a rather scary experience about fifteen years ago attempting to return home after dinner with friends on Estrelita Island. After dinner, Peggy and I gave another couple a ride to the Bay where they had left their car and we then left the upper Bay, proceeding into the main channel when the veil of fog surrounded us. My first thoughts were that I have reached the main channel and home is just up River past the narrows so we will proceed cautiously. My second thoughts immediately following were focused on just making it to shore-anywhere. We could see nothing. I will never forget that moment. There was one area that seemed lighter than the rest of the surrounding fog and being familiar with the area, I knew that the Coast Guard had lighting on their docks that would probably penetrate fog. Idling along we safely reached their docks and they allowed us to leave the boat there for the night as long as I retrieved it by 8 AM. My phone call awakening my brother got us a car ride home. Peggy drove me back to the Coast Guard the next morning and the fog was still thick on the River and the CG did not let me leave their docks until the fog had burned off about forty minutes later.Teddy
Teddy McNally posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
Got your wallpaper and the Coast Guard Cutter pictures and they were great... We're summer residents of Alex Bay and enjoy any pictures of the Islands. Look forward to heading back the end of April.
Len Ehlers posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
Fog can really disorient you, particularly if you cannot see the tree top line or water line to follow current. Working summers at Canoe Point afforded me several scary encounters with fog as I traveled from the Lake of the Isles and back. One morning in the lake you couldn't see across to Duclon's (Goat) Island, when it lifted enough to see water line, I started, made it through the International Rift very slowly, then pea soup fog. Knowing the area like the back of my hand from childhood I thought I was ok, steer to Wellesley Island State Park, stay close to shore. The loons warned me, soon 3 sisters shoals was close at hand. I knew I was close to Meyers Island and could easily become lost in the open Canadian waters. An hour roaming circles in that small very rocky area put me at the tiny unmanned state park. Their early morning laughter drew me to them. They thought they were seeing a ghost and concerned that their permits were in order as I wore the Park Shirt. Safe harbor was all that mattered and feet on shore. They shared coffee and we traded fog stories and park stories until it broke enough for me to start out again. This time with one of their own to be delivered to Wellesley to catch a ride. When I finally reached Grindstone, I was so relieved, again, sound brought me to them away from Eel Bay and Picton channel. A tent became a staple for work - NO MORE FOG! When I switched from motor boat to kayak across Eel Bay, more so important. I learned to sing in the fog, if you couldn't see, you could be heard.
posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
I left Goose Bay in Clayton and headed for Grindstone Island-Swiftwater Pt.- in early afternoon. It was sunny and clear. Went past Pine Island and Bluff Island and all of a sudden fog settled in. I slowed down to barely moving but "I knew where I was going, as I have been on the river all my life." Ha! I watch the water, etc. and inched along - thinking I was headed for Grindstone. Well all of a sudden I saw land and realized I was in Heiman Bay. I put the boat in reverse and got out of there. the fog was slowly lifting and finally I reached Grindstone. I have never seen fog like that in the middle of the day again - a river mystery.
Sue Smith posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
There are so many fog stories from over the years - but this one clearly remains the scariest. My husband, dog, cat, and very young daughter were up for the weekend, coming out of Pier 65 in Clayton and headed for Papoose (west end of Grindstone). There was a little fog in the channel but we could see the Calumet tower and felt comfortable heading out. Bad idea! As soon as we got into the fog, we were so low to the water that we could not see over it, and were totally blind. Fortunately, we were able to locate Bartletts Point, and swing back to the Clayton Town Dock. Now it was raining AND foggy, and we all know how much "fun" it is to wait out the fog - especially when you only have a couple days to enjoy the river. We "did the town," constantly watching for a break in the fog. As we had no car, several HOURS were spent at the dock, in the rain, waiting - and waiting (keep in mind the cat, dog, and daughter). Suddenly, a boat came through the fog and landed. It was Trude Pfeiffer, and old friend. She and a family member had made it through. She told us that it was clear on the other side of the fogbank, and there was a fairly narrow band of blind area. So of course, we were anxious to try it - and asked to follow her back through it - she had a fog horn, and had made it once - so it MUST be safe. As we inched our way along, following Mrs. Pfeiffer's boat, we suddenly saw her wildly swing away from something and start waving us off. With a "sinking" feeling, I looked in the water- to see a huge rock. I have no idea how either one of us missed it - we were certainly being watched over. With my heart in my throat, we continued to creep along behind her - and magically - moments later, we were on the other side. To this day, I can picture that monsterous rock! And I am much more cautious about taking off in the fog.
Sue March posted on: Sunday, January 01, 2012
Your picture of "the buoy boat" reminded me of two nights in 1965 when the teenagers of Chippewa Bay invented "buoy bopping". We probably re-invented it, but being young, everything was new and ours alone. For two nights, we got ten people together, loaded them onto a buoy, and set it rocking, with the goal of getting the light under water. I don't think we succeeded, as the buoys are a lot bigger and more buoyant than they seem. But it was a wonderful carnival ride. It was also a guilty one. We did make sure that no ships were in sight, but we knew we shouldn't be messing with the buoys. When our parents heard about it, they absolutely forbade us, and that was that.
Steve Beste posted on: Monday, January 02, 2012
As a child, our family Saturday morning routine, in the late spring and early summer was to cross from Morristown to Brockville for the farmers market. This particular morning it was a little foggy on the American side, but not enough to discourage my parents from deciding to cross. In an 18 foot MFG we started out, however the fog settled in to a point where my older brother stood at the stern holding on to the canvas bow in order to see over the top (as a look out). Somewhere near the Three Sister islands, he shouted and my dad cut the engine and what seemed like just feet in front of us appeared the bow of a freighter (down bound) and the steel blue hull passed directly in front of the windshield of our outboard boat. That was over 40 years ago, but the fog hasn't erased the memory.
Dennis Durant posted on: Monday, January 30, 2012
Fog is a scary thing. I never venture out in it anymore because people with GPS units and no radar go out in it. Back in the late seventies I was taking some friends up for a fishing weekend. We got to Cantwell Pier 65 at about 8 AM and couldn't even see the other side of the marina. It's about a three mile trip to Woronoco Island and I made the whole trip safely because I knew the compass coordinates and depths by heart. I worked my way down river of Woronoco on the channel side where it is 130' deep and slowly maneuvered in to 7' and then pulled around the island at 8' until I bumped into the dock. My pals were truly impressed but those days are gone. I now have a GPS but never will I venture out in the fog because other people have them and abuse them.
posted on: Monday, January 02, 2012
My father and I always made many yearly trips to Wellesley Island State Park. On one of our fall trips we arose to a thick blanket of fog with sunny blue skies above. Having left the park many times I knew this type of fog would burn off as soon as the sun got a little higher. My dad had reservations but I said " I've been heading down river so many times I could do it with my eyes closed". Maybe he was right. After leaving the cove I knew where the Canadian Middle channel markers were and what direction I had to go. I should mention our boat had no compass. Motoring at a VERY slow speed we set off. After what seemed like eternity, my dad said "weeds". I said this water is way too deep for weeds. A few seconds later this sign appears out of the fog: WATERSON POINT STATE PARK. We had made a very big arc out of Wellesley and missed all the shoals and islands. What a humbling experience. When people say when you're lost, you usually walk in right hand circlres, believe them!
ken herring posted on: Monday, January 02, 2012
My husband just surprised me on New Year's Day that we will be spending our 40th wedding anniversary this August at Singer Castle. I checked out your wallpaper and there was an incredible picture of the castle. This time of year I count the days till we can once again be on the River and having this special event being celebrated on the River makes me really anxious for the boating season to be here. Thank you for all the wonderful photos of the 1000 Islands.
Eileen Comerford, Carleton Island posted on: Monday, January 02, 2012
We have a cottage on Hill Island facing Club Island. Back in the 1980s my mother, my brother Mike Heberling, and my 2 daughters and I had enjoyed a wonderful Friday night dinner at Pine Tree Inn. Before we knew it, we had one of those truly black nights where you can't see your hands in front of your face. As we left the dock and headed out to cross the American channel we were in a thick fog unable to see the front of the boat. Mike was using the navigation equipment to guide us. Suddenly, Mike put the boat in reverse and deftly turned us around as this huge ship moved silently in front of us. His quick reflexes prevented a nasty outcome. We returned to the Inn and spent the night there, glad to have avoided that catastrophe.
posted on: Thursday, January 05, 2012
Lynne and I had a new baby and when we headed out from Gananoque for the Lake Fleet Group (3 miles)- in the night in a water taxi, it was disconcerting as we encountered fog lying just off the (then) Custom's docks. This was after driving up to the river from New York. And it was in 1969 when the islands weren't as 'settled' as now. Also, it was before Charlie and Peter Brooks and their reliable service, too. The driver of this open boat wasn't too sure of himself. I-we-on Axeman, had been taught in fog, "Watch (if you can) your wake!" It will indicate if you are steering straight. Also, over time, we learned (were taught...) the angle that certain oft run paths across the water subtend, say, with the shore, certain islands, etc. That is how I got to Axeman. I set my stern- I had been asked by the water taxi driver to drive, at the angle I knew we created when coming away from the shore (Custom's dock.) I throttled down. I watched my wake. Eventually we fetched up Corn Island. I went to the North end - as always, arced around and then once, "half way from one end of Corn to the other", at again a certain angle to avoid many nasty shoals down river slightly from Corn (now marked), I set a new angle for the highest points across the way- Troughton Island and the high point on Grindstone. No baby crying yet! Yes, of course, I could not SEE Troughton or Grindstone but I could SEE if I we're setting the proper angle and if I was steering straight- all more or less. This was the longest leg. We struck the line of islands just downriver from Troughton. From there it was a short run into Axeman along a way I was wholly familiar with- even in the fog. And there were surely NO boats out there with me at, say, 1 AM. It was a challenge. I was confident I could do it. The water taxi over nighted with us. But let me tell you sometime about the time I really got lost (in Lake Ontario...) and thought I knew where I was...and didn't. OMG!
Jack Patterson posted on: Sunday, January 08, 2012
Thank you. Your wall paper, when it arrives every month gives me sustainable pleasure that summer will once again be upon us. I look at Singer Castle every morning from my veranda and cherish the expanse of sky and water. Again thank you. Also in reading the comments I am amazed that we seem to have avoided the ultimate sacrifice of our folly in trying to conquer travel in the fog. and what is so intriguing is that we do it again and again and always swear NEVER AGAIN. I am guilty. I think it has to do with ego and the number of years on the river. Again! Thank you.
Sidney Manes posted on: Monday, January 23, 2012
