Tales from Shawangunk, Part 70

TALES FROM SHAWANGUNK Chapter 70 by Peggy Spencer Behrendt

Calvarymen tease writer Thomas Stevens with feigned attacks

The Mohawk River Valley Inside our cottage, 1975

In 1974, Tim and Peggy Spencer Behrendt set off on an adventure. They began a new life in the woods of Cold Brook, NY, without modern conveniences like electricity or indoor plumbing. These are excerpts and reflections from Peggy’s journal chronicling their adventures and also her childhood memories growing up in Westmoreland.

On warm, late summer afternoons, we relax in our screen house after chores are done. It’s next to our vegetable garden, now in full maturity, abundant with fresh, flavorful, healthy vegetables. This is “better than money in the bank”, as the old folks used to say, although they were more likely to be referring to woodpiles. How satisfying it is to grow your own food, to gather your own fuel! This was one of our big goals when we spent our first night here on August 31st, 1974. It was rather primitive but very quaint; a scrap-wood cottage on 3 ½ acres of woodland, and a running stream to fetch our water from. Inside we had some home-made furniture; chairs made of old church pew boards and a table made with saw-horses, plus a treadle sewing machine, an old oak icebox, an equally old porcelain sink in a plywood counter, upright piano, wind-up 78 record player, and an old mattress on a bench for a couch. At night, we climbed a ladder of tree branches nailed to a post to the loft where we slept.

But this was luxury compared to the accommodations experienced by the man whose book I like to read on these late summer afternoons;

“Around the World on a Bicycle (1887). The author, Thomas Stevens, took one of the first bicycles (the kind where you sit on top of a huge front wheel), around the world carrying little more than a change of undergarments, raincoat (which he camped under), some money and a small gun; eating We served the First Universalist whatever food was offered by the local people Society of Salisbury Center for 40 years he encountered, which oft-times was quite rank. Sponsored by Outing Magazine to promote the health and social benefits of this new technology, his articles describing contact with the world cultures of that time are precious and fascinating. I have to admire the temerity and confidence he had to carry out these travels in foreign lands. In Asia: “Half a dozen times this afternoon I become the imaginary enemy of a couple of cavalrymen…; they swoop down upon me…at a charging gallop, valiantly

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Tim helps a child pull the church bell rope

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Thomas Stevens wrote in the 1880s about the beautiful Mohawk Valley, but also of being harassed by boaters as he biked along the canal

whooping and brandishing their [rifles]…they swerve off…and rein their fiery chargers up, allowing me to forge ahead…then returning…”

We, too, had our challenges, some men had hunted in our woods all their lives, and were unhappy with “hippies” taking over and declaring it a war-free zone on wildlife; there were attempts to oust Tim from his job as minister which sometimes came as close as one vote; we had to keep tight budgets so we could buy land which necessitated travel in an unheated, dilapidated vehicle and sometimes using catalog pages for toilet paper… But with determination, and kindly assertiveness, we have prevailed. A few of us shared our concern for ecology and peaceful coexistence with wildlife in the 1970s, but now vegetarianism is not just a wacky practice by eccentric hippies; concern for the health of our planet is not just a foolish view by extremists; awareness and empathy for the consciousness and value of other life forms is no longer an outrageous misconception by “Bambi lovers.”

I feel certain that we have had some influence on this evolution of consciousness. A theory of Tim’s that I found new and fascinating when we first met (which was before the internet), was that an idea if it has truth, can influence the whole world very quickly by simply passing from one person to another. It has made me think carefully about what I say, what I do, and how I react. If this is true, we are all leaders, not just the people frequently seen in media.

For example, one day, we went to an event about an important contemporary issue at a local college in the valley. The lecture hall was almost full, and people were still trickling in when a Campus Security Guard announced in a loud, authoritative voice;

“Who owns a blue Chevy sedan, license plate XXXX?” A meek-looking man raised his hand. The guard put his hands on his hips; “You better get out there right away and move it buddy or it’s gonna be towed away!” You’re in the faculty parking area!” He sure sounded irate!

The car owner obediently commenced to exit. Now, I’m usually quite shy about speaking out in groups, but this was too much! In a voice just loud enough to be heard, I said: “You could be nicer about it.”

Then I was shocked to hear Tim add in his best pulpit voice: “Yea! What is this, Nazi Germany?”

Suddenly the lecture hall crescendoed with many other raised voices; “Yea, what’s the big deal?”; “He’s not a criminal!”; “We’re guests here, you should treat us that way!”; “Where are your manners?” Not until the Security Guard left did the hubbub die down to an irritated murmur. I was shocked. Did I start this?

And, little did we know what we were starting when we bought our first 3 ½ acres. Only four years later, we purchased another 30 acres. I wrote to my parents:

forest and wild meadows. We have a little bottle for Grandpa and a few friends who have helped us this year.

I built a case for a flute I was given and hope to sell it so we can get an apple grinder. There are lots of wild apples this year and I hope you’ll get a sample of the delicious cider we hope to make. The property we’re acquiring with your loan we expect to be a renewing supply of fuel for our house besides protection from hunters and trappers. It borders on the Black Creek which is very nice forswimming, canoeing, orfishing. It has been recommended by an Environmental Protection Agency to be included in the ‘Forever Wild Rivers Act.’

I’ll call as soon

Tim and parishioners wrestle with slipcovers Peg made for pew cushions

After thirteen land purchases, we now have 520 acres kept protected in perpetuity with a board of directors and the many, many people who have supported this vision.

One of the churches that faithfully employed us for 40 years and consequently helped finance our Preserve was in Salisbury Center, NY. The congregation is tiny but rich in talented, hard-working people. Their fund-raising dinners are still popular local events, and we all looked forward to seeing the amazing bouquets our retired farmer, Richard Carpenter provided for the altar. For decades, services began with the sweet sound of the old bell in the church tower, its calming voice echoing among the hills. Little children loved to help pull the rope because they would get an exciting ride, being pulled up and down with the swinging of the bell. But as the effects of time were felt by the once sturdy 1829 edifice, we began to feel and hear whole church building vibrating and creaking with each swing of the bell. Concern increased, so Tim climbed up the dusty bell tower one Sunday after church, with me following in trepidation, as the ladders were made of aged wood, with a plethora of bird droppings. But we managed to examine the bell and its structural elements. Alas, it was sadly concluded that it had rung for the last time, as necessary reinforcements were beyond the budget.

Church bells were once sources of weather conditions as well as calls to community events. Its sound changed according to temperature and humidity, and astute farmers could use this information to predict weather and determine the priority of chores.

Thomas Stevens wrote in the 1880s; “ Nearing the Camillus outlet…I hear the sound of Sunday bells, and after the church-bell-less Western wilds, it seems to me that their notes have visited me amid beautiful scenes…” I always enjoyed our rides to this church on Rt 28 along the scenic West Canada Creek (sometimes beautifully veiled in morning mists), then up over Barto Hill on Rt 29. We’d pass through Fairfield which was the busy location of a prestigious medical school in the 19th century: Fairfield Academy. Now, it’s a sleepy little pastoral village with an incredible view of West Canada River Valley and the hills of the Mohawk River valley beyond. I heard tales that there were occasional controversies in the Academy days over the disappearance of the body of a recently deceased person from a local cemetery, and Fairfield Academy students were apt to be at the top of the list of possible suspects!

As we ascend to the highest point of Rt 29, our view broadens to 360 degrees which includes the Adirondacks to the north and east. You can practically see the curvature of our

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blessed earth, glorious with infinite shades of green and blue in summer, pastels in spring, and a mosaic of russet brilliance in autumn. Central New York is heavenly! Thomas Stevens wrote in the 1880s:

“At Rome, I enter the famous and beautiful Mohawk Valley, a place long looked forward to with much pleasurable anticipation, from having heard so often of its natural beauties and its interesting historical associations. ‘It’s the garden spot of the world; and travelers… everywhere, say there’s nothing to equal the quiet landscape beauty of the Mohawk Valley,’ enthusiastically remarks an old gentleman in spectacles…on the heights east of Herkimer.”

Of particular interest in his book, is the descriptions of his route through central New York which, logically, took him along the towpath of the Erie Canal. “The greatest drawback to peaceful cycling is the

Taking a detour over the covered bridge in Salisbury Center on our way home from church

towing-mule and his unwarrantable animosity toward the bicycle and the unmentionable profanity engendered thereby in the utterances of the boatmen. Sometimes the burden of this sulphurous profanity is aimed at me, sometimes at the inoffensive bicycle, or both of us, but oftener it is directed at the unspeakable mule.”

One Sunday, I have a big stack of upholstery fabric to deliver to church. Our sister church in Little Falls got new pew cushions and donated the old ones to us here, but they needed new covers. In a rather foolish moment of spontaneous generosity and enthusiasm, I volunteered to sew slipcovers for them on my old Singer treadle sewing machine. It was a HUGE project! And I worried; the fabric was a huge expense! What if they don’t fit!?

Fortunately, they do, but it is quite snug, and they don’t exactly “slip” on. Installing them involves the entire congregation in a lengthy and exhausting struggle, akin to a wrestling match, but our workers are good-willed, cheery, and we laugh a lot over our contortions.The ends still needed to be stitched closed, and I spent many Sundays doing it by hand during services. On the way home, we detour through the ancient covered bridge in the village of Salisbury, our wheels rumbling loudly across its wooden planks, admiring the cascade of pristine water rushing below. It is a pure melody of music.

When Tim was just beginning his ministry (1963), he was called to the bedside of a kindly, aged woman during her last hours of life. In his inexperience, instead of comforting her, he somehow ended up confiding to her his deep concerns about the world; what was then called a “police action” in Vietnam; reports of areas of massive pollution such as “Love Canal;” racial riots and increasing consumerism. “You know, Tim,” she told him when he’d finished ventilating, “When things get bad enough, people will act.” And she ended up comforting him.

We all have influence and have a responsibility to model the best qualities of kindness and fairness to our planet and all its inhabitants. When we do this, we are proactively having a positive influence on the world that can go beyond our intimate sphere. •

The Shawangunk Nature Preserve is a deep ecology, forever wild, 501©(3), learning and cultural center. Tim and Peggy still live there and can be contacted through their website. www.shawangunknaturepreserve.com

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