Chapter 62 of Sacred Trust in which the reader is introduced to Colonel Alcott Farrar Elwell and W. Richard West (Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah or variously spelled Wah-Pah-Nah-Yah or WaPa NaYah) who are introduced as historic figures who played a significant role in the story of the area including their role in Camp Mowglis.
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| Wah-Pah-Nah-Yah |
Daniel and Sasha arrived at the trailhead of the Elwell Trail just before dusk. They drove first into Wellington State Park to take a quick and bracing dip in Newfound Lake before they headed up the trail. The State Park was closed for the season but the entrance was left open so boaters and fishermen could access the only public boat launch on Newfound Lake. It also meant local folks could use the park and its long sandy beach in the off-season and on warm autumn days there was often a healthy contingent of them . . . especially on weekends.
Technically they were required to be out by dark but Daniel knew neither the state nor the town of Bristol had the funds or inclination to enforce the rule, so he and Sasha stripped and ran naked into the lake as Cochise joyfully ran wind sprints up and down the beach. Every once in awhile he would dart into the water and scare up a pair of ducks or wading birds. He wasn’t really trying to catch them; he just liked to see them panic and fly off squawking, quacking or shrieking.
Daniel and Sasha took turns washing one another’s backs, chest deep in the lake.
“Damn it’s cold!” Sasha said.
Daniel put his arms around her and drew her naked body next to his. “This better?”
“Only moderately. And if you think you are going to do anything with that thing poking me from behind, think again. I’m getting clean and I’m getting out. I’m stunned it hasn’t shrunk to the size of a wooly bear caterpillar; Besides, here’s Cochise”, she said as the Wolf paddled up and began swimming circles around them. “You don’t want to get him all worked up or he may try to mount you from behind while you’re working your magic on me.”
Daniel laughed and pushed her away melodramatically. “You know I like it wild Sash, but THAT I can do without.”
Newfound Lake is one of the cleanest lakes of its size anywhere. Daniel had grown up with adults always telling him it was one of the cleanest lakes in the world but he had spent more than a few summers traveling across Canada by train and the US by car and had seen more than his fair share of sparkling lakes in Glacier Park, Banff and the Wind River range of Wyoming. Still, with a turnover rate of several times a year, Newfound was remarkably clear and clean, despite the number of houses dotting the landscape.
Sasha looked up at the dark mountain looming over them to the west. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Damn it’s cold!” Sasha said.
Daniel put his arms around her and drew her naked body next to his. “This better?”
“Only moderately. And if you think you are going to do anything with that thing poking me from behind, think again. I’m getting clean and I’m getting out. I’m stunned it hasn’t shrunk to the size of a wooly bear caterpillar; Besides, here’s Cochise”, she said as the Wolf paddled up and began swimming circles around them. “You don’t want to get him all worked up or he may try to mount you from behind while you’re working your magic on me.”
Daniel laughed and pushed her away melodramatically. “You know I like it wild Sash, but THAT I can do without.”
Newfound Lake is one of the cleanest lakes of its size anywhere. Daniel had grown up with adults always telling him it was one of the cleanest lakes in the world but he had spent more than a few summers traveling across Canada by train and the US by car and had seen more than his fair share of sparkling lakes in Glacier Park, Banff and the Wind River range of Wyoming. Still, with a turnover rate of several times a year, Newfound was remarkably clear and clean, despite the number of houses dotting the landscape.
Sasha looked up at the dark mountain looming over them to the west. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Yup, we’re going to hike one of my favorite trails, the Elwell Trail. It used to start halfway down the lake but in the mid-70’s my dad and a bunch of other guys cut an extension from Nuttings Beach down to Wellington so folks would have the reward of the lake when they finished their hike.”
Named after Colonel Alcott Farrar Elwell who died in 1962, the trail follows the ridge over Bear Mountain, Sugarloaf, Oregon and Mowglis Mountains all the way to Firescrew, which is actually a shoulder of Mt. Cardigan, the tallest of the range and the terminus of the trail. Unlike the other mountains in the range the summit of Cardigan is bare rock, burned off in a fire in the thirties.
As they toweled off on the beach, Daniel told Sasha about Colonel Elwell. “Elwell was a scion of a wealthy family from Boston who spent his summers on Newfound first as Assistant Director of Camp Mowglis and then Director after the original director, Elizabeth Ford Holt, died and left the camp to him. Harvard educated - he did his Master’s Thesis on camps as a component of education - and spent one summer with the John Wesley Powell Expedition mapping the Yellowstone area. He was late signing up for the expedition and by the time he had heard about it all the jobs were taken except for cook - - so he signed on as the cook, even though he really was not much of a cook. He was determined not to miss the opportunity and with the blessing of Mrs. Holt he headed west.
“They probably could have just asked the Cheyenne, The Crow or Nez Perce for a map.” Sasha said.
“Yeah but that would have entailed admitting the Indians were not sub-human,” said Daniel, “and that was a bridge too far for a bunch of white guys in those days. In fact when they made the trip, there were still occasional skirmishes between the various tribes of the area and white settlers or people traveling through. ”
“Good for them!” Sasha said.
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| Alcott Elwell and Elizabeth Ford Holt |
Named after Colonel Alcott Farrar Elwell who died in 1962, the trail follows the ridge over Bear Mountain, Sugarloaf, Oregon and Mowglis Mountains all the way to Firescrew, which is actually a shoulder of Mt. Cardigan, the tallest of the range and the terminus of the trail. Unlike the other mountains in the range the summit of Cardigan is bare rock, burned off in a fire in the thirties.
As they toweled off on the beach, Daniel told Sasha about Colonel Elwell. “Elwell was a scion of a wealthy family from Boston who spent his summers on Newfound first as Assistant Director of Camp Mowglis and then Director after the original director, Elizabeth Ford Holt, died and left the camp to him. Harvard educated - he did his Master’s Thesis on camps as a component of education - and spent one summer with the John Wesley Powell Expedition mapping the Yellowstone area. He was late signing up for the expedition and by the time he had heard about it all the jobs were taken except for cook - - so he signed on as the cook, even though he really was not much of a cook. He was determined not to miss the opportunity and with the blessing of Mrs. Holt he headed west.
“They probably could have just asked the Cheyenne, The Crow or Nez Perce for a map.” Sasha said.
“Yeah but that would have entailed admitting the Indians were not sub-human,” said Daniel, “and that was a bridge too far for a bunch of white guys in those days. In fact when they made the trip, there were still occasional skirmishes between the various tribes of the area and white settlers or people traveling through. ”
“Good for them!” Sasha said.
“Elwell himself didn’t have the same views about Native Americans.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, because in the late 30’s he hired a young Cheyenne man from Oklahoma, Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah or W. Richard West by his anglicized name.”
“I don’t know much Cheyenne,” said Sasha, “but I think Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah means something like quiet, swift, runner.”
“He translated it as ‘Lightfoot Runner’ “ Daniel said.
“I was pretty close, eh?”
“Yes you were! Not bad for an Iroquois gal. After all they lived half a continent away from your folks.”
“True, but most of the time you can’t really tell much from that because your President Jackson, whom the current President seems to think was a “big-hearted guy” in 1838 forced most of the South-Eastern tribes including the Cherokee, Muscogee, Seminole, Chickasaw, and Choctaw to leave their homes on the Trail of Tears. The Cheyenne were moved from the Great Plains states to Oklahoma. Just some of the many “hikes” on the path to genocide our people have endured.”
“That’s right,” Daniel said mentally kicking himself for not thinking about Andrew Jackson’s systematic war on the Native people of the country and the Indian Removal Act.
“Jackson wasn’t a big fan of those heathen nomads,” he said in an effort to lighten things up.
“Ironically,” Sasha replied, correcting Daniel again, “the Cherokee were more like “civilized” Europeans than most of the white settlers by 1830 when Congress passed the Indian Removal Act. Cherokee women wore gowns similar to those worn by European women. The Cherokee had established their own system of representational government, built roads, schools and churches, were farmers and cattle ranchers, all in an effort to assimilate.”
“Historic documentation, in fact, shows more white settlers “migrated” to join Indian tribes than Indians joined white settlers during the years between Columbus and the end of the “Indian Wars”. But the Cherokee were trying very hard to assimilate as a strategy for cultural survival.”
“The Trail of Tears was not the last event in this nearly four hundred year struggle but it was one of the most brutal and cruel. In fact, one of America’s greatest heroes of the day, Davy Crockett, opposed the Indian Removal Act, standing up for the Cherokee and lost his seat in Congress for doing it. He left Washington, headed for Texas, and you know what happened to him after that.”
“I didn’t know that story, Sash,” Daniel said quietly.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, because in the late 30’s he hired a young Cheyenne man from Oklahoma, Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah or W. Richard West by his anglicized name.”
“I don’t know much Cheyenne,” said Sasha, “but I think Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah means something like quiet, swift, runner.”
“He translated it as ‘Lightfoot Runner’ “ Daniel said.
“I was pretty close, eh?”
“Yes you were! Not bad for an Iroquois gal. After all they lived half a continent away from your folks.”
“True, but most of the time you can’t really tell much from that because your President Jackson, whom the current President seems to think was a “big-hearted guy” in 1838 forced most of the South-Eastern tribes including the Cherokee, Muscogee, Seminole, Chickasaw, and Choctaw to leave their homes on the Trail of Tears. The Cheyenne were moved from the Great Plains states to Oklahoma. Just some of the many “hikes” on the path to genocide our people have endured.”
“That’s right,” Daniel said mentally kicking himself for not thinking about Andrew Jackson’s systematic war on the Native people of the country and the Indian Removal Act.
“Jackson wasn’t a big fan of those heathen nomads,” he said in an effort to lighten things up.
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| Wooden Rowboat at Wellington |
“Historic documentation, in fact, shows more white settlers “migrated” to join Indian tribes than Indians joined white settlers during the years between Columbus and the end of the “Indian Wars”. But the Cherokee were trying very hard to assimilate as a strategy for cultural survival.”
“The Trail of Tears was not the last event in this nearly four hundred year struggle but it was one of the most brutal and cruel. In fact, one of America’s greatest heroes of the day, Davy Crockett, opposed the Indian Removal Act, standing up for the Cherokee and lost his seat in Congress for doing it. He left Washington, headed for Texas, and you know what happened to him after that.”
“I didn’t know that story, Sash,” Daniel said quietly.
“His parting words to Congress were ‘I would sooner be honestly damned than hypocritically immortalized’ “ Sasha said.
“OK so I interrupted your story about Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah, Daniel. I really would like to hear the end of the story.”
“Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah was a favorite among the boys and an extraordinary artist. He taught Cheyenne dances to the boys and Colonel Elwell purchased enough Cheyenne regalia so they could demonstrate the dances for the other boys and - from time to time - local communities. He also taught archery.”
“Of course” said Sasha “whether he knew it or not” she said sarcastically.
“Oh he did. He was an excellent archer. There are stories about him shooting his bow from underneath a horse galloping across the athletic field and hitting his target. His most lasting memorial, though, was a series of murals he painted - renderings of scenes from Kipling’s Jungle Book, on which the camp is based. Today Wah-Pah-Nay-Yah is considered one of the pre-eminent Native American Indian painters of the 20th century.”
“But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“By the time Elwell graduated Harvard, the US had entered the action in World War I so he joined the army where he rose to the rank of Colonel. When the war was over he came back to help Mrs. Holt run the camp again. After he took over, he actually closed the camp for two summers at the height of World War II because he felt it was his patriotic duty to get back into the action to stop Hitler. The army was, apparently, less enthused than he was - they had plenty of ranking officers - it was the “cannon fodder” grunts they were short on. Nevertheless, they accepted him back on the condition he accept a demotion to Captain, which he did.”
“From what I have heard, Elwell had expected to see action when he re-upped but ended up working in an office somewhere far from the action. After two rather frustrating years he decided he would return to civilian life and moved back to New Hampshire and reopened the camp.”
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| William Baird Hart |
The three walked back to the Prius and moved it across the road to the trailhead parking, where it would be less noticeable, and packed their backpacks by the light of their headlamps. “We’ll hike in just far enough to be legal and camp for the night.” Daniel said. Then we’ll hike over Bear Mountain and Sugarloaf tomorrow and camp on top of Oregon Mountain.”
“Not that I’m worried about breaking the law at this point,” Sasha said, “but is it legal to camp on the summit?”
“This range gets quite a bit of summer traffic from day hikers,” said Daniel “but very few backpack along it. So it’s not highly restricted. I suspect we won’t see a soul for the next few days until we get to the summit of Cardigan. I’m counting on finding someone, after we get down from Cardigan, who can give me, or the three of us, a ride back to the car.” With supplies for the next four or five days, headlamps lit, the three set out on the Elwell Trail watching for a flat spot where they could put up their tent.
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