Basin Harbor Club

by James Dunseith

The plain separating Lake Champlain from downtown Vergennes offers views of the rounded Green Mountains to the east, and of the sharper Adirondacks to the west. To the north and south, the Champlain Valley stretches as far as can be seen from such a flat, low elevation. As Jacob, Sara and I drove Panton Road out toward the lake, I could feel water approaching - we were not headed for a little pond on a mountain or a stream in the woods - we were headed out to the edge of the land. I remembered feeling the same way the first time I visited the Basin Harbor Club, four months earlier - feeling like this wasn't the same Vermont I had known all my life. Getting closer to the lake, we passed a sign that told us that Button Bay State Park was one-half mile to the left, and Basin Harbor Club was a mile to the right. Turn left for the campground on the bay - complete with lean-tos, picnic tables, public bathrooms and a basketball court. Turn right for the resort on the harbor - its cottages, restaurant, boat docks and golf course ready to serve you. Four days earlier, we turned left and explored Button Bay. On this gray January day, we turned right, and made our way out to the club.

In contrast to Kingsland Bay State Park and Button Bay State Park - both of which were closed for winter when we visited, forcing us to park our car at locked gates and hike through to reach the water - Basin Harbor was navigable by its paved and plowed roads, so we drove right in. We drove past the administrative office, past the members clubhouse, past cottages and alongside flawless wooden fences, down to the edge of the water.

The images of tourists clicking away with their cameras or staring dumbly at the wonders of nature are such common ones in contemporary nature writing. Nature writers are inclined to put themselves on a pedestal of deeper understanding and enjoyment of nature by depicting Joe Vacationer and his family as freakish and obnoxious additions to the landscape. The most self-righteous of these writers make a point of bashing the 'common man's' attempts at 'experiencing nature,' especially those wealthy folk who either set out into the wilderness armed with thousands of dollars worth of equipment, or those who enjoy nature from the lawns and decks of some scenic resort while being waited on hand and foot. Surely such writers would have a field day with the latter while pondering the Basin Harbor Club. As I considered the club, I was confronted head on with just that question - how should I react to such a place? As a 'nature writer,' would my proclivity also be toward self-righteousness - and a negative portrayal of the club - or would I develop an appreciation for the place and see it in a positive light?

A family run, 75-acre resort, replete with a golf course, a yacht club and a private 3200-foot airstrip, Basin Harbor is by far the most developed of all our "beaches of Addison County," and it surely attracts a crowd different from the winter ice fishermen at Crown Point, the summer campers at neighboring Button Bay State Park or the year-round day hikers exploring the Falls of Lana. Set in a harbor of Lake Champlain, it is by no means wilderness, and those looking to explore a rugged virgin shoreline will not find it here. As a luxurious vacation destination, however - with its cozy cottages, perfect views of the lake, and meticulous landscaping - Basin Harbor serves its purpose.

When I came here last fall, it was to sing at a wedding - a small, secular affair where the readings came from The Velveteen Rabbit and the music was supplied by my a cappella group. Although my own wedding preferences will include an actual church and sacred texts, and the a cappella singing will be saved for the drunken fun of the reception, I cannot deny that this was a pleasant wedding for everyone, including myself. The sky that day was spotless and blue, the air bore the last warmth of summer, and a breeze blew off the lake - just heavy enough to blow the bride's veil in the air, but not quite pull it off her head. Before the ceremony, we played shuffleboard and watched the water; afterwards, we were asked to stick around and sing a little more. I stood on a deck, entertaining happy people in front of a sunset and wondering what I had done to deserve the good fortune of being at such a place.

"There's not much to see here," says Jacob. Compared to the exciting array of relative wilderness we have seen at Kingsland Bay and Button Bay, there isn't. Right now Basin Harbor is dead. Snow covers the landscape, but this place looks better in green. The houses looked brighter surrounded by flowers, but their charm is not lost in the gray of this day. It's easy to imagine the bustle and fun of this place during a family reunion in August; the docks of the inner harbor would be lined with sailboats, motor yachts and jet-skis, and the smell of some sumptuous supper might waft from the restaurant across the harbor to the cottages, or backward to the golf course. An older couple, flown in from New York, would gawk at the Adirondacks across the water, while being served appetizers by a seventeen-year-old kid from Vergennes in an oversized tuxedo. Shuffleboard and bocce would occupy those not reading on the lawn; kids would run around while trying to obey their parents and not disturb the newlyweds staying in Sundial cottage. And those newlyweds - well, they'd probably wonder about what was in store for them as they watched all the family fun from the periphery.

But that's all for August. This time of year, everything is white and Basin Harbor is closed for the season. A woman walks her dog and some pick-up trucks are scattered about, but we don't see any real signs of recreational life. Over by the golf course, several cars are parked -- a Mercedes, a Lexus and a couple of new Jeeps - but their owners are not to be found. There is no way to differentiate lawn from patio from shuffleboard court, but the smooth rolls of the property offer an accurate shadow of how well the place is kept. What strikes me is that the view of the lake, however spectacular and awe-inspiring it may be for guests of the resort, is essentially the same one that we saw at Button Bay and Kingsland Bay, and I found it much more interesting framed by trees and snow and ice than by parking lots, lodges, telephone lines and soda machines. I do exaggerate; this harbor has seen man's hands - been developed and packaged - but nature is still here. And it is still beautiful.

It is easy to forget that this is Vermont. Up until very recently, my Vermont consisted only of mountains for skiing and hiking, a patchwork quilt of working farms and little towns, and water in the form of ponds, brooks and occasional waterfalls. I knew Lake Champlain was here - I had seen it from mountaintops as a giant sheet of glass, glistening way off in the distance - but I had never explored it up close. Even the Basin Harbor Golf Club seems out of place in this state; usually, Vermont golf means hills on every hole, but being at the bottom of the Champlain Valley, this one looks uncharacteristically flat from the parking lot where I look out across it. Of course, it could simply be the endless expanse of untouched snow that washes any contours from my field of vision.

For some guests, though, this all the Vermont they will ever know. Basin Harbor's private airstrip allows guests to fly directly into the resort on their personal airplanes, never even experiencing the drive up into the mountains that was such a part of my childhood travels up to the state. These guests will marvel at the mountain ranges to their east and west, but they may never stand on top of one. What would they think of a waterfall in the middle of the woods? What would they think of a farm full of sheep? What would they think of the smell of cow pastures in August? The planes fly in and out on weekends, further separating this place from a state it does not quite fit in to.

I like to consider myself one who would rather be out exploring a trail through the woods beside a lake or trudging through a campground closed for the season, although I have no complaints about the existence of a place such as the Basin Harbor Club. Just as I can understand a couple's choice to be married here but will personally choose the church, I can understand why someone else would love to come here to marvel at "nature," but I personally will choose a hike. I am blessed with the time - and, at least for these four years, the location - to explore all the shorelines, trails, waterfalls and mountains I want. I have few enough responsibilities that at any time I can drive my car until I see a good place to pull over, jump into the woods and walk until I discover an appealing cliff or a pond or brook. Others are blessed with more money than time; who is a nature writer to criticize such people for setting out to enjoy themselves with the resources they have? At least they are getting out and up here at all.

Indeed, for all my optimistic hopes that I will always be able to tromp around exploring nature, I also realize that circumstances do change. So for a brief getaway during a busy time in my life, or for a family reunion where I want as many relatives as possible to show up, I will undoubtedly keep Basin Harbor in mind. It has its place, even within Vermont and especially on Lake Champlain. If I may call myself a nature writer, Basin Harbor is not apt to be my favorite place; yet for any of our differences, I still have plenty in common with guests of the club. We all share the same euphoria over a sunset behind the Adirondacks behind Lake Champlain.

The view across the lake from Basin Harbor Club.

This roadsign presents a choice: left for the rustic campground of Button Bay State Park, or right for a posh stay at Basin Harbor Club.

How to get there: leave Middlebury heading west on 125…turn right (north) on 22A and as you approach downtown Vergennes, look for official signs to Basin Harbor Club and Button Bay State Park. Turn left (west) onto Panton Road…if you cross the Otter Creek at the Vergennes falls, you've gone too far. There will be signs for Basin Harbor Club and from this point on, as well as for Button Bay State Park and Lake Champlain Maritime Museum, which are not far away. Once on the Basin Harbor Club grounds, turn left at the harbor and find the parking lot by the main inn and dining room.

A cottage nestled right on the water, looking straight at the Adirondacks. Talk about a good place for a sunset!

A shuffleboard court, stuck in the dead of winter.

The harbor is empty this time of year.

A cottage nestled in the trees.

Golf course, winter style.

The airstrip, for those with the means to fly in.