Lake History

Our unique 25 foot stone lighthouse on Ladies Delight Island, constructed in 1908 and presented to the Cobbosseecontee Yacht Club, is believed to be the only active inland waters lighthouse in the State of Maine. Located in the bay near the north end of the lake, its light flashes 365 nights a year.

Placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1984, this lighthouse had a severe list corrected in 2001, and a new marine grade aluminum top installed in July of 2005. Observers should find that our beloved old lighthouse now looks as majestic as it once did decades ago! This beautiful structure was formally dedicated on July 16, 2005 by retiring long-time CYC Commodore, Captain Hugh Stephens, also Keeper of the Light.

Forest And Stream Magazine, Oct. 3, 1908; Pg 546
A Yacht Club's Lighthouse

A lighthouse is maintained by a yacht club is the latest that yachtsmen are doing to assist in navigation. The lighthouse is on Lake Cobbosseecontee, near Augusta, ME, and it has been found to be a necessity, because of the constantly increasing number of power boats in those waters. The Boston Globe says:

“The latest addition to the lake's equipment to aid the inland sailors is a well-built lighthouse constructed after the style of the government lighthouses on the coast, on Ladies Delight Island, the central point of a large section of jagged reefs, which extend over a space of several acres just below the surface of the water.

“The most dangerous points in the reefs have for some time been buoyed, and channels between them marked, so that the motor boats might with safety enter the harbor of East Winthrop to the left of the little island, going up the lake, or to lay their course for Hammond's grove to the right, in which direction is Island Park, an amusement resort. These improvements were all made by the Cobbosseecontee Yacht Club.

“During the past two years the theatre at Island Park attracted so many power craft to that end of the lake from all other sections, at night, that it was necessary for the safety of the boats to have some light fixed to mark the reefs. Early this year a common lantern was placed upon the island, but this was not satisfactory, and work was soon begun in constructing a real lighthouse. The work was completed about two weeks ago, and now Cobbosseecontee is one of the few inland lakes in the United States, not navigable to large steamers, to boast a real lighthouse.

“The island where the light has been built is long and low, being nearly all under water when the water is high in the early season, and is situated a mile from Island Park. A seawall has been constructed, and the lighthouse has been built in the middle of that plot. The stone work of the tower is about 16 ft. high, upon which is the lantern, with framework of wood adding about 9 ft. more to the height of the tower.

“The tower is about 9 ft. across at the base and 7ft at the top. It is built on a concrete base 4ft deep. The stonework is white while the lantern is painted black.

“Frank Morse, of the office of the U.S. Lighthouse Commissioners at Boston, designed the lighthouse. Around the outside of the lantern there is an 18 in. wide balcony. Entrance is gained to the lighthouse through a doorway at its base, above which is engraved upon a block of granite and inserted into the side the monogram of the yacht club which built it and the date 1908. A window is located half way up the tower.

“The cost of the lighthouse was $400 and $100 was the expense of building the seawall. Mrs. Catherine L Farr, wife of Dr. Clifford B Farr, of Philadelphia, was the owner of the little island upon which the light is situated, but upon condition that the Cobbosseecontee Yacht Club should maintain a light upon it during the summer months, she deeded it to the club for a period of 99 years.

“At present the light shown in the tower is steady, but on account of the difficulty in discerning it from the hundreds of lights along the shores, the club intends next year to install a flashlight.

“Commodore Daniel Robinson of the yacht club is the man whose efforts made it possible to have the light. The yacht club has at present a membership of about 140, while there are a little more than 125 power boats on the lake. The largest of these power boats is Island Belle, 33 ft. over all, and large enough to carry nearly fifty people. It is the property of John Collins, a student at the University of Maine.

Published In The Kennebec Journal
June 24, 1881

LAKE COBBOSSEECONTEE.

A GLOWING DESCRIPTION OF IT’S VARIED ALLUREMENTS.

THE MINNE-HA-HA OF MAINE.

Talk about Lake Maranacook! Descant on its fabled glories. Parade its transcendent beauties. But when compared with the eighteen square miles of iridescent surface displayed by Lake Cobbosseecontee’s, Winthrop’s sluggish pond fades into insignificance. Cobbosseecontee is indeed a lake, cradled among the craggy hills, like a sleeping giant; it's pearly waters 
(intelligible) the fertile shores of five of our most important farming towns. Like a diadem, it rests on the furrowed brow of old Kennebec, the fairest, the loveliest of all Nature's handiwork.

Dotted with evergreen islets like floating emeralds, indented by coves, veritable fairy grottoes of green, intersected by bold promontories and slender tapering points, it is indeed almost a glimpse of paradise.  Located four and one-half miles directly west of the three sister cities, this magnificent sheet of water, with an average width of two miles, stretches from Manchester and the shapely pines of Hammond's Grove away south, nine miles to the rugged hills and sylvan dales of granite-ribbed Monmouth. Let the reader step into a boat at the grove and proceed down the lake. As he moves off, Cony's dapper little steamer will be encountered, ready to awaken the echoes with its piping whistle. First on the right, cleaving the water like a gigantic wedge, is Long Point, and peeping through the leafy foliage is discovered the quiet little settlement of East Winthrop, with its tapering church spire, so characteristic of every New England Village. A mile father and the tiny island of Ladies Delight is reached. It was here that several years ago Dr. Babcock and Mr. Sanborn met a tragic death.

These unfortunate gentlemen, during a shower, took refuge on the island, under a cedar tree. A blinding flash was seen, the clash of a thunder-bolt heard, and shortly afterward, the ghastly corpses of the poor men were discovered. Even now, the withering effect of the fatal bolt is apparent on the trunk of the tree. Looking westward is the little hamlet of Baileyville, embowered in cool and airy maples. Across in Manchester dwell the peaceful and honest-hearted Quakers. On the hill, their plain and unpretending Meeting House looms up.

Another mile brings the voyager to Shaw's or Hodgton's Island. A decade ago, this was the resort of a numerous class of pleasure seekers. Then it was that Harry Hodgton ran his steamer on the lake, and had a bowling alley, dance hall and cookhouse on the Island. All these have now disappeared. Last year, however, a cottage was erected by Henry Harding of Hallowell.

Quite a large part of the island is covered with cedar thickets. These are the favorite haunts of the untamable partridge. Half a mile to the eastward is the Basin, and at its foot, the new “Outlet House” with its attendant fleet of boats. Here the Cobbossee stream commences on it serpentine wanderings to busy Gardiner and the Kennebec River. Formerly, at the Outlet, hard by the banks of the stream, the Aborigines built their wigwams, counted their scalp-locks and whiffed from the peace pipe the fragrance smoke of the kinnikmie. 

Often times the farmer's plow turns up rude stone implements, relics of the savage life. Immediately south from Shaw’s Island towers the mossy and weather-beaten hemlocks of Horseshoe Isle, the largest in the lake, about a mile and three-quarter in length, by three-quarters in breadth. Many years ago, some eccentric farmer attempted to hew out a farm from among its rugged beeches and maples. He even built a house and barn. But the solitude of the place was too much for human nature and it is now deserted. 

Tradition says the body of Sagre, the first man ever hung in Maine, was buried on this Island; the relatives of the murderer stealthily by night interred the corpse in the deep recesses of the forest. Three miles south is Two Tree Island, a mere pile of rocks, and perched on them are two stately pine trees like warning monitors pointing heavenward. Soundings of over one-hundred feet have been taken in the vicinity. Here were the happy hunting grounds of the white perch fisherman. In these cool and secluded depths, the perch delighted to revel, and it was possible almost any time to haul in a bushel of the scaly fellows. This has passed away.

In an evil hour, Samuel Groves, otherwise “Sam Grouse” of Manchester, plotted against the horny tribe, stretched his net and depleted their ranks to such an extent that it is almost idleness to fish for white
perch now. Uncle Sammy, however, finally ceased his predatorial labors, and went into the shoe business at the county factory. Two miles below is the lower extremity of the lake where the inlet “Jack “stream pours in its flood and furnishes water power for the grist and saw mills at East Monmouth. This stream is the outlet of the numerous chain of ponds which extend through Winthrop and Monmouth; and even the immaculate Maranacook, through its banks, pays tribute to the sparkling waters of Cobbosseecontee.

Even as above the surface of the lake all nature is filled with budding life, so beneath is a minute world teeming with its finny inhabitants. Roaming among the weeds, whisking through the lily pads, gamboling around the boulders, are the perch, the voracious pike and gamey bass. If you want genuine soul inspiring sport, then cast your fly in this neighborhood. See Cobbossee and live. Take your rod and live. Pitch your tent in some forest dell, stretch your hammock, hang your chowder kettle and take your ease.

Are you a sallow dyspeptic? You will be astonished at the demands of your stomach. Throw brown bread and graham to the dogs, and feast on Island Chowder. Are you a drudge of the city, a lawyer, a merchant? You will be surprised at the renewed vigor, the rest to your tired brains which this primitive life will give you, and, when evening falls, you can sink into sweet and refreshing slumber, lulled by the murmur of the wavelets, and the plaintiff notes of the whippoorwill. Ere long the train locomotives of the narrow gauge will whirl around the head of the lake. Commodious hotels will be erected, and spacious grounds laid out. Then, O shades of extant Maranacook, beware, for a rose will fall from your Chaplet.