An Ode to Cyrus Butler
Despite the sooty name, Black Mountain, the climb to its top was anything but, it being swathed in orange and yellow and several shades of red. It looms above the central stretch of Lake George, imperiously lodged on the eastern shore, the backbone dividing Saint-Sacrament from Lake Champlain. The former flows into the latter and thence to the St. Lawrence and out to sea. From the more populous western shore it may seem a raven-hued silhouette before the sun clears its peak. In the latter half of the 1800s this “Queen of Lakes” was all the rage, the steep forests that gird the waters we plundered, giving up their hardwoods for the charcoal forges to springboard America’s industrial age One Cyrus Butler bought the steamboat Minne Ha Ha and erected the Ur-Adirondack Lodge, at Black Mountain point, a choice destination. With ready money from his iron works just miles north at Ticonderoga, where the two lakes copulate, he cowed the mighty ...