Crown Point

by Justin Beckwith

The Crown Point Bridge spans the southern end of Lake Champlain, joining New York and Vermont, at a point where the two sides of the lake provide a stark contrast to each other. Vermont's coast is dabbled with quaint cottages, active farms, small motels and an old townhouse. New York has a more serene landscape, with only a small tourism office and the remnants of two historic forts. The visual opposition of the two states become symptomatic of a myriad of societal differences found within this northern landscape, which is an enduring backdrop for the ever-changing saga of humans.

As one walks from the road down at the tourist center to the water, it is impossible to miss the Champlain Bridge on 17; it dominates the landscape with its seven cement pilings and elaborate web of suspension cables. On the shores of the lake, limestone outcrops are uncovered from under the snow by the winter winds that howl through the Champlain Valley. These great slabs of gray rock are littered with historic graffitti-fossils as well as the ordinary kind, which date back from over 200 years. The former phenomenon is a geologic record of the animals which lived in a shallow tropical sea that covered the majority of Vermont 400 million years ago; these fossils, known by such names as bryozoans, brachiopods and cephalopods, were encrusted in the limey mud on the bottom of Lake Vermont. The graffiti found on the rocks is far more recent, reflecting several generations of Vermonters, and providing a link to the inhabitants of the historical forts. For centuries people have carved their initials and dates into the soft limestone, leaving a virtually indelible mark, like the prehistoric crustaceans.

Lake Champlain was a strategic thoroughfare during the French and Indian War and The American Revolution; an indispensable waterway that connected Quebec, Vermont and New York; to control the Lake was to control the war. Unlike the majority of the wide lake, Crown Point was a "choke point;" a place where ships could not pass undetected from the cannons stationed on its banks. The French were the first to claim Crown Point, when they built Fort St. Frederic in 1731. This small stockade grew in size as the French and Indian War progressed-until 1759, when the French were forced to destroy their own fort and the British moved in to create His Majesty's Fort at Crown Point. The brick skeleton of this impressive structure, with barracks for over five-hundred soldiers, still stands today. From atop the fort's surrounding embankments, one can see great distances; to the west, the town of Port Henry sits in the foreground while the Adirondack Mountains loom in the background. The most striking view, however, is of Lake Champlain itself, nearly two-thirds of the horizon is taken up by this vast body of water.

Out on the ice, small villages of brightly painted ice-fishing shanties sit in several crowded patches like military outposts. Most of the shanties are empty on the day of my visit, Wednesday, which I find is because the water is cloudy. Ice-fishing is a rather simple activity. A fisherman uses a baited static line to attract fish; if they bite, a flag pops up and the fish is then pulled to the surface. If the water is exceptionally cloudy, the fish cannot see the bait. This lack of visibility translates into low catches and grumpy attitudes and empty shanties.

An elderly gentleman, who was loosely wrapped in several worn winter jackets, speculated that the water was turbid either from dredging that was taking place up the lake, or from past stream runoff or "God knows what kind of chemicals the local farmers use on their fields." As he explained that the dredging was taking place to the north of where we stood, and therefore should not affect the water quality at this location because the lake flows northward, he wiped his nose with a tattered handkerchief. It seems as if the high stream runoff from late fall would have settled by now. Perhaps some new pesticide was tainting the water; more likely, it was a combination of all three.

The ice fisherman I talked with was a staunch conservative. He was wary of the dynamic ice we stood on-even after fishing for over two decades-he still carries a safety float. In only a few minutes of conversation he managed to rip apart Democrats, welfare recipients and out-of-staters. His dialogue could not have illustrated the heated tone of the past Vermont election more perfectly; I had no doubt that, if I looked on the back of his pick-up truck, I would spot a "TAKE BACK VERMONT" sticker. Of course, the conservatives lost this political battle, and this man, like forty-one percent of other Vermonters were unhappy with the growing liberal population around their homes.

On the other side of the shanty village stood a man clad in Gore-Tex and polar fleece. He had a sled full of modern tip-ups, a young dog, no safety float and a more gun-ho attitude. The two men did not speak to each other even though they were the only souls in the bleak landscape. Too biased to converse, they dip their lines separately, and secretly hope the other will leave.

Sitting on the ice in the bright January sun provides one plenty of time to devise theories and place blame. This new political battle reflects the historically independent attitudes that Vermont's residents have had for centuries; dating back to Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys. However, in today's society has traded muskets for hate-filled words and political propaganda. Chances are, the Crown Point Bridge will stand through several more revolutions; a resilient landscape overshadowing ephemeral human activity.

Knowledge of this endurance can be reassuring; several months ago, I sat on a culvert two miles from Crown Point throwing worms into the muddy Champlain waters myself. Broached between my environmental ideals and the realities of a working class tradition, I sit on my butt, chewing Red Man, drinking coffee and catching dozens of fish. Reeling in my line, my hook was often caught in clumps of a new pest weed. Eurasian water milfoil has invaded hundreds of bodies of water throughout Vermont; without a natural enemy this foreign weed grows unabated. Biologists are worried that if we do not find a solution to this pest we could damage the natural balance of our lakes. Republican House of Representative member John McCain, known for fighting pork-barrel spending in Washington, recently questioned why $500,000 of government money was being spent in Vermont for "aquatic plant research." It's obvious Mr. McCain hasn't cast a fishing line in Vermont's tainted waters.

A solitary Ring-billed gull glides through the frozen scene, which seems barren on this cold January day; a token reminder of the thousands of ducks and geese that passed over Champlain on their journey south a few weeks ago. Things will be quiet here until the spring, when the birds book their return flights and people flock to the reopened waters in search of solitude and relaxation. This land, which has come to mean so much to a diverse population-fishing, boating, swimming-will always be overshadowed by the foreboding forts that stand on it's banks and highlight the insignificance of human visitation. This haunted and exposed setting, once weighted by cannon fire, symbolizes our vulnerable and ephemeral role in this dynamic and steadfast landscape.

The Crown Point Bridge.

Graffiti carved into the rock. 1839.

The remains of the British fort.

Ice fishing shanties on the lake.

How to get there: leave Middlebury heading west on route 125…at the village of Bridport the highway jogs north, briefly, on route 22A but then turns west again and eventually picks up Lake Champlain and follows its western shore to a bridge where route 17 crosses the lake. There's a parking area beneath the bridge on the Vermont side, and at a tourist information center on the New York State side.