Take paradise, put up a golf course

Beans the bunny is still kicking

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News that 36,000 acres of beautiful lakes, rivers and land in the Adirondack Park are being sold by one very rich family to another one is not cause for despair.

Nonetheless, the grieving began as soon as news broke that Whitney Park is being sold to a Texas developer.

“I think that the state not even engaging in purchasing this property and it going to development is devastating to the forest preserve,” Claudia Braymer, director of Protect the Adirondacks, told Jim Odato, the reporter who broke the story early last week in Adirondack Explorer.

Denial, they say, is the first stage of grief, so a press release from the Adirondack Council, another regional green group, said “the purchase marked the beginning – not the end – of a new discussion about conservation of the vast tract of unbroken forests, lakes, and wetlands in the heart of the largest park in the contiguous United States.”

I would think the sale marks at least the beginning of the end of the discussion, if by “conservation” the council means preventing commercial development of the property.

Shawn Todd, founder and chairman of Todd Interests of Dallas, has contracted with Edward Hendrickson to buy the land, according to Odato’s story. Edward is the executor of the estate of his brother, John Hendrickson, who died last August. John was the husband of Marylou Whitney, who died in 2019; and Marylou was the wife of Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney, known as Sonny, who died in 1992.

The Whitney family has been living, vacationing and entertaining guests at the property for generations, as well as fishing and hunting there, and, at various times, mining gravel and cutting timber. The land has more than 100 miles of roads and trails, several cabins and other structures and a “great camp” with 17 bedrooms called Deerland.

Green groups have coveted the place for years, urging the state to buy it and add it to the Forest Preserve, but Hendrickson, apparently, got sick of them panting after it. He stipulated in his will the land could not be sold to the state, Odato reported.

But the green groups aren’t giving up.

“Our commitment to protecting this land and ensuring its conservation for future generations is unwavering,” said Raul Aguirre, director of the Adirondack Council.

Todd told Odato he’s thinking about a high-end golf course, fine dining and lodging and vacation homes on large plots of land. He also mentioned exercising those mining and timber rights.

I don’t see the problem.

The Whitney family used the land, built roads and houses on it, cut lots of trees and put in a tennis court, and despite all that development, environmentalists still consider the property beautiful and irreplaceable.

A fancy backcountry hotel is not so different from a huge, fancy house. Swimming, boating, fishing, playing croquet, sipping cocktails on the lawn — all these activities have been going on at Deerland for decades. The only difference under the new owners will be that guests pay for the privilege.

A backcountry resort will have cooks and cleaners and other staff, but so, I’m certain, did the Whitneys.

If the Todds put up a few houses, they’ll be limited to one dwelling every 42.7 acres, per Adirondack Park Agency regulations. Huge swaths of the property will remain untouched.

The property is praised as “pristine,” but it has not been that for more than a century. It is and will continue to be land used by human beings for pleasure and profit, which is not a tragedy.

Braymer told Odato the failure to add the Whitney lands to New York’s Adirondack holdings is a “historic missed opportunity by Gov. Hochul.”

Actually, the sale is a historic opportunity for the town of Long Lake, which under the terms of Hendrickson’s will, is going to receive the proceeds. Considering the asking price was $125 million, Long Lake (pop. 648) will soon be not just one of the most naturally beautiful towns in the state but probably, per capita, the wealthiest as well.

The state already owns about 2.7 million acres of Forest Preserve in the Adirondacks — mountains, lakes, rivers, swamps and meadows that cannot be developed in any way. Speaking as a citizen of New York, we don’t need Whitney Park.

The Adirondack Council, Protect the Adirondacks and like-minded groups will push for conservation easements, which is not a bad idea, and for specially strict treatment of this development by the Adirondack Park Agency, which is one. Other ambitious Adirondack projects have been killed by being buried in paperwork and legal delays — that shouldn’t happen here.

The Adirondack Park land use regulations are already some of the strictest in the country, put in place especially to protect land like this from overdevelopment. The green groups should allow the law to work as intended.

I’m weary of the predictable way these things play out — the Chicken Little cries that the land will be “lost forever,” the appeals for extraordinary actions to stop the despoiling of a natural paradise.

At the turn of the 20th century, huge expanses of the Adirondack forests had been clear-cut by the timber industry. They were not lost forever. The natural wonders of Whitney Park, which is more than two times larger than the island of Manhattan, will hardly notice a few fancy houses and a golf course.

Fore!

Scenes like this don’t call to mind the serenity of the Adirondack wilderness. But part of Whitney Park could someday look like this, as a Texas developer has a contract to buy the 36,000-acre property in the Adirondack backcountry, and he has said he’s thinking about putting in a hotel and a high-end golf course. (This photo, from Facebook, shows former Post-Star reporter and columnist Dave Blow about to take a swing.)

Beans

Back in March, I wrote about how our bunny, Beans, had developed a mass in his belly, a tumor perhaps. We took him to the vet but decided against the testing, which could determine whether cancer treatment was needed. Beans is an old bunny, 10 or 11 at least, and I believe he wouldn’t survive cancer treatment. The test sounded like no picnic either. He was in good spirits, so we took him home, and I’m happy to report he is still in good spirits, scooting over to stand near us for a pet when we enter the room and confounding the dog whenever he gets the chance.

He has been losing weight — I can feel the edges of his bones through his super-soft fur. And now he’s not eating much. I do think he’s dying, but he remains perky and friendly. The older you get, the finer the line between dying and aging becomes. Beans sleeps a lot, and sometimes freezes in place in odd positions, like facing in to a corner of his cage. (He roams around the room as he pleases, but his food and litter box are in a big open cage in the corner.)

When I see he’s not moving, I’ll stare at him for 10 or 15 seconds until I spot a slight movement of his side as he breathes.

One of these times, I won’t spot the movement. In the meantime, he’s still kicking and hopping and zipping around without making a sound.

Beans gives Ringo’s nose a nudge recently as Ringo lies on the rug, because why not?

Poem

Here is a poem by Hudson Falls poet Richard Carella:

Note: To A Sculptor

You’re pondering lilies,                                                                                                             as we can see by the fact that                                                                                               your sculpture has lilies as eyes;

or are you thinking of death,

since lily is the flower                                                                                                                most associated with it;                                                                                                             and of the fact that

though death may well

come from without,                                                                                                                    it’s more often within us,                                                                                             something (secretly) growing

in the soil of our cells...

from seeds that were planted                                                                                                     in us at conception;                                                                                                                    and at the end of our lives,

as it comes to flower–

and though we catch                                                                                                                   just a glimpse of it,                                                                                                                   we are struck by its beauty:

as we close our eyes.

The bees are back

Spiderwort is considered an invasive plant by some people, but it is pretty. I control it by ripping it all up toward the end of the summer. It reappears the next year but takes awhile to spread. It comes in lots of colors, but in our garden, it’s purple-blue and white and a fuchsia shade. Apparently, it can be black, which must look amazing.

This morning, the spiderwort stamens (I think that’s right) were loaded with pollen, so the bees were busy. Here’s a brief video of one of them at work:

Deja Vu is here

Saturday afternoons from 2:30 to 4:30, a group of local musicians, playing as Deja Vu Jazz, performs at Spot Coffee on Glen Street, Glens Falls. The group is smooth and polished, with a mellow sound that allows for conversation but is lively enough to get your attention. According to the band’s Facebook page, they play traditional jazz and swing and music from the Great American Songbook. Members are Neil Giammatteo, trumpet; Lew Petteys, saxophone; Phil Brink, bass trombone; and Bea Roman, vocalist. They often inspire a couple or two to get up and dance.

Here is a brief video (cut off abruptly, sorry) of them playing on Saturday: