CHATEAUGAY LAKE STEAMBOAT GAZETTE CO.

Letter to the Editor: Steamboat Dispatch

October 28, 2024

To the Esteemed Readers of the Steamboat Dispatch,

As the leaves fall and a crisp chill settles over Chateaugay Lake, I find myself drawn to the delightful article recently penned about our local steamboat pirate operations during the early days of our beloved lake. While it beautifully captures the allure of the past, I am compelled to share a memory that intertwines with our region’s storied tapestry, particularly as we approach Halloween—an occasion ripe for stories that blend the haunting and the humorous.

Many years ago, while attending one of the Historical Society’s summer exhibits, I stumbled upon a forgotten piece of lore surrounding Arthur Fitzwilliam Tait and his vibrant depictions of our landscape. The exhibit, showcasing Tait’s art, reminded me of an unusual encounter I had while meandering through the woods on the western shore of the Upper Lake, not far from Pine Lodge.

One autumn afternoon, I wandered into a grove where the sun filtered through the trees, creating a mosaic of light and shadow. There, among the rustling leaves, I stumbled upon a gathering that defied the bounds of reality. The Steamboat Pirates, it seemed, had not only lived on the fringes of society but had somehow slipped into a fantastical realm, one where tales of mischief and mirth thrived, alive and echoing in the air.

To my astonishment, I found them engaged in a spirited debate over the “pirate code” while seated on makeshift thrones crafted from old, discarded planks—likely salvaged from Tait’s own artistic endeavors. Their raucous laughter mingled with the whispers of the wind, and as I approached, one of them—a figure clad in tattered finery, his eyes sparkling with a rogue’s charm—invited me to join their revelry. He proclaimed himself the “Captain of Mischief,” his voice rich with theatrical flair.

“Ahoy, friend! Join us as we chart the waters of Chateaugay with the spoils of our artistic exploits!” he called, brandishing a feathered quill like a cutlass. It was then that I realized the essence of Tait’s work was alive here—a whimsical celebration of our shared history, transformed into a theatrical spectacle.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the water, the gathering began to spin tales—stories of the lake’s eerie beauty and ghostly encounters, from wayward spirits of forgotten fishermen to the mysterious lady of the lake who would occasionally emerge at dusk, her laughter echoing through the pines. With each story, the air thickened with an otherworldly charm, making the very fabric of the night shimmer with possibility.

In those moments, I felt a kinship with the very ghosts that inhabit our stories: the steamboat pirates of yore, the children of Chateaugay’s rugged shores, and, of course, the ever-watchful spirit of Tait, whose brush strokes had captured this essence long before our gathering.

As Halloween approaches, let us remember these whimsical tales and the ghosts that haunt our beloved lake—not as specters of sorrow, but as embodiments of joy and adventure. The echoes of the past continue to shape our present, inspiring laughter and connection among the living. Perhaps we might raise a glass of enchanted moonshine in honor of the Steamboat Pirates, the artists, and the wild tales of Chateaugay Lake.

Wishing you all a Halloween filled with joyous spirits and ghostly giggles.

Yours in the spirit of adventure,

Nick Deeplake,
Chateaugay Lake Historian
Pine Lodge