Montgomery County sentinel., 1952-11-06

Of articles, dealing with spots of
local color and beauty unknown
to the average native. | hope you
who read it, will be helped to real
ize that life can be constant ad-
venture, and that many of the best
things in it are free.
Sycamore Landing"
To you, who have been there,
this lovely spot, four miles west
Of Seneca, on the Potomac River,
and four miles east of Edwards
Ferry Con the eight mile level of
the old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal)
is a place you often may read
about, but seldom see. To you
who have never been there, I
strongly urge you to go.
l found this sylvan spot on a
foggy night fifteen years ago when
my old dog "Ted" treed a big rae
coon on tall river maple stones
throw from the spot where l was
later on to live for two marvellous
years in a tiny cabin.
Those were the most beautiful
years of my life. At night, drift
ing down the river in my boat with
eight or ten two and half pound
catfish 'fiappinf around in it's bot
tom, smoking rolled cigarette, I
felt real pity for the people who
lived in the big city, the glow of
which lit up the east. For while
they thought they were living
they were really deluding them
selves. l was living. I did not
have to search for an iota of hap
piness-I had it in my little shack
with it's single kerosene lamp and
it's old tin plated wood stove.
Peace, solitude. equanimity were
mine, and life held a definite zest,
so that each new day l was glad
to get up from my built-in bunk
with its feather bed mattress.
Priceless privileges and all free
free as the breeze which blew in
from the placid Potomac.
Sycamore Landing achieved ma
tional notice in 1886 when my
brother and I found there a burial
ground of the prehistoric Algon-
quin Indians. This remarkable dis
covery was definite authenticated
as genuine by the archaeologists
and anthropologists of the Smith
sonian Museum in Washington.
After twenty-six bodies had been
exhumed the find was made known
to the public in two page article
in the rotogravure section of the
Baltimore un, entitled "Myster-
ious Village Along Potomac's
Shores" Altogether seventy-four
bodies were dug up. Thousands of
valuable artifacts were brought to
light-touched again by human
hands after an elapse of many hun
dreds of years.
If you were to take a stone, if
you possessed average strength and
stood at the door of my cabin and
threw it you could easily have hit
one of the Indians tepees. Many's
the time, at dusk on an October
evening, l have looked up the river
and on the side of the canal, seen
clearly the village of the savages;
have seen their crude homes with
the smoke spiralling from the tops
of their tepees; their faces were
anonymously painted, and their
shouts as they danced made the
night air hideous. The spot is one
in which the imagination gains full
growth.
Van Deventer is a large island
just opposite Sycamore Landing.
1t is the third island west of Seneca
and each year its so acres are
planted in corn by an enterprising
Virginia farmer, who transports
the crop back to the mainland on
huge scow propelled across the
river by means of pole. 1t is the
favorite stopping and feeding
ground of the lordly geese on their
flights north and south. 1t abounds
in all kinds of small game. Many's
the coon l have treed there and
many's the foggy night | have had
to stay there till dawn because |
couldn't find the Maryland shore.
But there was always plenty of
driftwood and roaring fire even
though it rained all the while.
I remember to this day the ghost
ly silhouettes of the gigantic syca-
mores which were all around.
Horspen Creek which empties a
half mile below Sycamore Landing
into the Potomac, is a splendid
place for the squirrel hunter. For
here even at midday, you can sit
on log and, if you are so minded,
bag your legal limit of six squirrels
(and most of them the large fox
squirrel without any trouble. All
you need is the desire, the patience
and the accuracy of aim.
Today, you can drive with COM
fort over a hard road to Sycamore