WINTER 2001
Where the Road Ends
Murtagh Hill offers an oasis of privacy and an escape from traditional living.
Story and photos by Keith Bulriss.
The eccentric scenery of Murtagh Hill.
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The couple collects water when it rains and also retrieve it via bucket from a hand pump outside Gloria's son Jimmy's house just down the road. They must then heat the water before the dishes can be washed. The same routine applies for taking a bath.
The refrigerator and heating monitors are propane fueled. A solar panel outside charges a 12-volt batter to power the fans of the monitors. The entire house is wired to a circuit breaker that plugs into a gas powered generator, and circuits are turned on and off as needed. A few lamps dot the walls, but candles are abundant to conserve energy and fuel. The couple has eluded the reliance on the electric company with everything down to a butane curling iron for Gloria's silver hair.
Their days are full of doing constant home and yard improvements, both necessary and pleasurable. Plastic is going up and gardens lie dormant as winter sets in. At night, they spend time talking and playing games or they fire up the generator and enjoy the elaborate entertainment center that adorns the living room complete with big screen television, DVD player, and surround sound. "We do everything other people do," Gloria smiles, "sometimes it just takes a little more time."
Back down the road a hundred yards or so, on the opposite side, lives Gloria's son Jimmy with his wife, Chantal, and their young son, Christopher. Jimmy started the same way his mother did so long ago with a small, very uneven dwelling. "I don't think the guy who built this owned a square," Jimmy half-jokes.
Like his mother's place, Jimmy's home and yard have expanded and flourished steadily over the years. He and Chantal cleared the land, cut the trees into rough lumber, and used it to build an addition on the house, build a shed, and begin construction of a garage. Everything gets put to use here.
They use unearthed rocks and stones to construct a maze of walkways, raised flowerbeds, and twisting stone walls around the front yard. In the back, the land drops away from the house and a big window overlooks the woods and a natural spring down below.
"When the ice storm hit, it didn't change a thing up here," Jimmy says, in reference to the infamous 1997 ice storm that paralyzed the North Country for weeks.
As winter sets in, the residents await the snow that will soon blanket the ground. Two inches of the white powder in Plattsburgh can translate into two feet in the higher elevation of Murtagh Hill. But these are people who never have to worry about the power going out. "When the ice storm hit, it didn't change a thing up here," Jimmy says, in reference to the infamous 1997 ice storm that paralyzed the North Country for weeks. People here simply weathered it like any other storm until they could get out and clean up the fallen limbs and broken trees. There was no mad scramble for a generator as a power source since people here have always relied on them and alternate power is a way of life.
The outdoor improvement season for these people at the end of Murtagh Hill draws to a close as Old Man Winter prepares for his next unpredictable visit.
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