Church Island, Squam Lake

I didn't get the chance to finish telling you all about Rockywold Deephaven Camps [RDC], the location of our family vacation this year.  Other things have gotten in the way.  This morning I was laying in bed enjoying a few moments of serenity before the house woke and the rush to dress, eat, meet the bus came barreling in.  I was laying there thinking about Church Island on Squam Lake.

Church Island is home to Chocorua Chapel and it is where Squam Lake summer residents, RDC guests included,  go a 'meetin on Sundays.   95% of the RDC guests have been there before, actually 100% of the 95% have been going at least 15 years.  Being new, is a bit rare.  Clearly everyone there knows the drill and things aren't really announced and communicated.  You are just supposed to know.

We arrived to RDC late Saturday afternoon, just in time to unpack and have dinner.   Sunday morning I heard talk in the dining hall of people going to church.  I wanted to go, but none of my people would join me and quite frankly, I didn't know how to do it.  Was I allowed?  There was no information, nothing formal, no annoucement.  I didn't know the drill and I was foolishly uncomfortable with that.

We watched church goers head off to Church Island, home of the Chocorua Chapel...

I was envious and sorrowful to know that we wouldn't be around for another Sunday.  I had missed my one and only chance.  Later that afternoon we set off on a lake adventure and I was insistent that we visit Church Island.  I needed to torture myself by seeing exactly what we missed.

The docks, leading to woodland paths, are plentiful to accomodate the community.  It is an island after all, and all vistitors arrive by boat. The misinsters are all visitors too.  One different each week, of varying denominations, visiting from around New England.  Most stay at lake side inns, if not in private homes, and are transported to the island by the chapel's own boat:

When you arrive on land you are greeted by two things, this:

and this:

After this lovely greeting and facing the reality of "continuously since 1903" you walk down a lovely, long and winding wooded path that crosses the island:

  'til you make it here:

which is your preparation for ending up here:

You may sit in a pew, they are more bountiful than I could capture, and look out upon this:

At this time you may find peace, silence and a lovely, introspective calm and serenity.  Or, if you are like me, you may scream inside your head: "WHY WHY WHY, why did it take me 39 years to find this place, WHY did I not come to church this morning, WHY am I not one of the lucky people who have been coming here all of my life, WHY WHY WHY????".  

There is an old pulpit that is carved from stone.  There is an old pump powered pipe organ kept in a shed with big doors that swing wide open, There is a curtained gazebo that is where the minister robes. There are carved chairs where the ministers sit.  There is magic.

On the walk back to our boat we stopped to read some of the plackards that line the path through the island.  There are probably 20 of them illustrating the history of the chapel and island.  Here are two I enjoyed most:  (click on photos to enlarge if you want to read the captions)

As big daddy and I exited this place and headed back to our little row boat we looked at each other with a timid shrug and said to each other: "next year".  It was the only way to calm the disappointment for having not attended that day.  Fine, we'll get on with our week, there IS always next year....

 

 

 

Comments

[Irena G.]

lovely story; so funny;
so good that you took the trip after the service
it's the "now you know" moment or time.....