About 99.999% of today's visitors to Johnson's Cove in Wolfeboro could only suspect that a logging industry flourished there. It was well known to Camp Wyanoke campers, and some around today may have heard those big blades a-whirring. I know of some members here who can add their recollections.
Some very old maps refer to the same cove as "Ike's Cove", adding to speculation that it was
Ike Johnson who operated the millworks there.
Wolfeboro added a street sign this year to commemorate Johnson's industry—but misspelled it!
Now
a popular spot for rafting—with some 40 boats seen at one time—it was also popular in the last decade with "bank beavers". Those are regular old-timey beavers who will build lodges at lakeside locations, rather than riverine locations. (Although there are several
springtime-only babbling brooks along the SE-facing shore).
Many huge trees still lying prone there attest to this critter's appetite for tree bark. Of the two lodges built in Johnson's Cove, at least one appears to have been rejuvenated. This summer, you can see beavers diving to its underwater portal in that location.
Until recently, the surrounding lakefront property was owned by the late Brad Frankum of Massachusetts, whose residence looks out over Winter Harbor and the stretched-to-the-limit development known as Port Wedeln. (Pronounced "Vay-Deln" by skiers, but "Wed-Len" by locals). Mr. Frankum owned a small steamer, "Pumpkinseed", and a Chris-Craft cruiser named "Sea Witch".
While both of those boats spent decades at the dock,
neither spent much time on the lake. (Except one
very memorable occasion at night which I related here earlier, and have to find again).
Just a couple of years ago, Mr. Frankum's entire 60-foot dock (the uprights of which were painted dark red) came adrift, and floated around for several weeks, awaiting the unwary night boater.
Although the mill stood up fairly well to the decades, it practically disappeared overnight when spec-built residences were constructed directly uphill from it. Much of the very heavy machinery was carried off. Today, when I see a certain rusty five-foot sawblade appearing decoratively in a local front yard, I have to wonder where it came from.
Even just fifteen years ago, only canoes could approach the mill within 100 feet, because so many abandoned logs had been left there—helter-skelter. It may not have even been safe for canoes, as canoes don't need much push by underneath branches to capsize—as I very well know. Some logs escaped the chained-together booms to vertically crouch semi-submerged like the dreaded "dead-heads" in other boating locales. Over the years, most have sunk or been used for dock pilings. (Not me-
ee!)
Today, a huge steel barge—which sank suddenly nearby—is propped up on its side awaiting repairs.
There's still much more history to relate regarding this mill in Johnson's Cove, but I don't want to lose all the previous post to
any warp in the Space/Time-Continuum:
