Thursday, December 22, 2011


We stopped at an island today after running the boat for five solid hours.  Falcor needed to stretch his legs.  He made it obvious that he is still a puppy.  What a character!

It's 5 PM now and the rain is pouring down.  It sounds great pounding on the roof.  I made a pot of fresh coffee and went out on the porch with the kids to rock in the really neat rocking chair that my friend Tom bought me.  It's moments like this that create memories that last forever.  The only thing better would be listening to it rain on the tent.

Nothing outstanding happened today on the lake.  It was business as usual.  Of course;  business as usual for me might be viewed as a sort of adventure by some.  Rain or shine;  the team of four of us assigned to Reservoir Fisheries are expected to perform required tasks on our designated lakes, and we do so happily and to the best of our abilities no matter what the weather.  I have the best job in the world!

I'm sitting here now pondering how I'm going to write the final Scona Lodge entry.  I still have to interview a gentleman who worked at Scona Lodge in it's later years of existence.  I have been in constant contact with a lady who spent her early teenage years at Scona.  She lives in California state and found my Scona Lodge blog entries accidentally with an Internet search.  Her name is Anne.  I asked her to write down her teenage memories of her years at Scona Lodge, in no particular order.  What I've been receiving has been a wonderful collection of writings describing a little girl's life in a fairy tale castle at the base of a magic mountain across a beautiful river.  Her style of writing is descriptive and allows the reader to achieve a mental vision of a young teen girl's impish ways, as well as presenting vivid mental images of  beautiful Scona Lodge.    It's been a treat to read about her youth and times spent at Scona, the magical place destined to be destroyed.

I will present her tales of memories here on the blog along with Scona Lodge pictures, with her permission.  Scona Lodge is more than just a place.  It was a fabulous retreat hidden away in the rugged mountains where it's only access was a special ferry boat that was built for the purpose of shuttling guests to and from the lodge.  It's clients were the very rich;  politicians, industrial magnates and their wealthiest friends and clients, dignitaries from foreign countries and a few visitors of dubious character.  Scona had it all.  Maids and butlers and the finest golf course imaginable designed by a most famous architect who created masterpiece golf courses all over Europe.  A fine skeet and trap range and a stable of trap guns made in Belgian, all for the use of the guests.  Fine patios with hand laid stone walls, corners and beautiful tile flooring graced the property of Scona Lodge.  Beautiful foot bridges spanned the little creeks that ran across the grounds.  Even the creek banks were lined with hand fitted stone.   The staircase in the lodge itself was created from Black Walnut.  It was a fabulous place; the centerpiece for a fiction story.  It was indeed a fairy tale in itself.  But above all Scona Lodge created memories for all those who worked there.  They dedicated their lives to it as if Scona was a living, breathing entity.  One can only imagine how they felt when the final chapter of their fairy tale came to an end and the Scona Lodge book was closed and the book burned to ashes.

I am taking my time with the final Scona Lodge entry.  It is an important reflection in history.  I want readers to actually see Scona through the eyes of the little girl who spent her teens living there with her father and mother.   If I do it right;  the reader will have a glance at a marvelous place that very few ever knew existed.  Go ahead; try to find it on the Internet.  You'll see what I mean.   Please be patient.  It will be interesting reading.

So, there he is running and playing on the slippery rocks at the edge of the water.

Over sized puppy feet carry him along the shoreline and from rock to rock.  He hasn't a care in the world.

He doesn't realize it but, there's a five foot drop off just to the left of the flat underwater rock he is standing on.

Oops!  In he goes.  This is his first real swim.  He didn't want it to be but, puppies will be puppies.  He's looking good out there though.

"I hope no one saw that.  Where's dad?"

The amazing thing is that he came out of the water with the stick he was trying to get.  What a rascal!

"And son;  dad will always be there watching over you."

I had a couple more short movie clips of Falcor showing off but, the science of satellite internet won't allow me to upload them.  I just wanted to post this entry to let everyone know I'm still alive.  The rain, cold and mostly my location has kept me out of the adventure business lately.  I will, however, take the Gheenoe up the Nolichucky River as far as I can this week.