I don’t think I have encountered in my later days anything in the way of fruit quite so delicious as the abundant raspberries, blueberries and hazel nuts of Rangeley. The heat and toil of the harvest field were greatly ameliorated by such of them as grew in the nearby hedges. Blueberries were not so conveniently at hand, but abundant in various outlying sections, especially near old Saddleback. Strawberries were very scarce on these newly tilled fields, and when Dan Quimby, the younger, after filling up with them, wantonly sat down and rolled over on a patch of unpicked ones, he was pointed out by other boys as The following was found on Page 1 of the July 16, 1896, edition of the RANGELEY LAKES newspaper. It begins with the recollections of an “Old Laker” sharing some of the natural delicacies that could be found in the region’s forests and fields back in the 1830’s. Many of which I am completely unfamiliar with but would love to encounter and sample.

(Editor’s comments in Italics, otherwise copy has been reprinted just as it appeared in 1895).

Rangeley Recollections

By an Old Lakera hopeless vandal. High Bush Cranberries, which grew along the Kennebago stream, were much esteemed for their delicate flavor. So were the little white, egg-shaped berries of the running Moxy vine with their blend flavors of sweet, acid and checkerberry. There were only a few checker berries, or ‘boxberries,” as we called them, but there were abundant bunchberries, beautifully scarlet and with a dull sweet taste. All these were found on “mortgages,” or lands which had been run over by fire. In the woods were the toothsome dark plums of the Moosewood and the little delicious sugar pear. There were not many chokecherries, but the wild cherry abounded and afforded a pleasant, wholesome acid. We had but few native apples, but all these spontaneous gifts of nature made large amends for the scarcity of the king of fruits. I shall never forget the unexpected discovery of a great bed of running raspberries near the Outlet of Dodge Pond. They were translucent, of a brighter red than their bush namesake, and were pleasantly acid and sweet. They were rarely found. Perhaps the accomplished botanist of the Rangeley Lakes (Etta Dill perhaps) will give her readers the botanical name of this, and the other wild fruits mentioned here. There were no shagbarks or oilnuts about the lakes, and not many beechnuts, but the sweet little hazelnut abounded, and its husks filled m any youthful fingers with their stinging spines.

In those days at Rangeley when “boughten” sugar was a company dainty, we ate our blueberries with molasses and our raspberries with thick cream; and blueberries and raspberries will never taste so good again. Mrs. Lem Quimby taught me that the former combination was much better than I thought possible, and the wife of Deacon Lake mixed a bowl of raspberries and cream into a symphony of color, fragrance and palatable daintiness which, will live as long as memory.

And below, Old Laker, shares some interesting information on the early fishery at Quimby Pond and an early encounter with the town’s namesake.

As I remember the old-time fishing at Quimby Pond, it was largely done in a weir, or space of water enclosed by a stone wall, near a spring on the eastern shore. The early morning catches through the ice, with salt pork, for bait, was quite up to the later records with the artificial fly. But the fishing there was mostly done by the people of the neighborhood, the Quimby’s, Guy Howard, William Ross, Willard Stevens and “Bluenose” Davis. My first acquaintance with the pond was, I think, in the summer of 1838. David Quimby and family, which included his aged mother, lived in a log house, near the present home of his widow, the Venable and respected “Aunt Happy.” I went out in a boat with David and his roistering nephew, Dan Quimby 2nd. When we got out into deep water the boat tipped, and Uncle David, who was standing, went into the pond, greatly to the ‘amusement of Dan, to whom the mishap was attributed by his uncle. But uncle David wag a swimmer and we all reached shore at the same time. He had probably forgotten this incident when a few years later over by Kennebago stream he waggishly asked a wet youngster if he “didn’t know enough to keep out of fire and water.” It makes me feel rather old to recall the fact that I was a boy guest at the house of the Rangeleys while they were still living there. This was probably in 1834. I had come with the old English squire and his wife from Phillips in my father’s “double wagon” We traveled by the “old road,” crossing a very rocky spur of Mt. Saddleback, during which the old couple were very nervous. Good Madame Rangeley made me a parting gift of a volume profusely illustrated with pictures of the hand mechanic arts of her native England before machinery was moved by steam. Only the ghost of that book remains in my small collection, of volumes.

What a great reference to the some of the ‘first families’ of the region and I particularly enjoyed the nicknames; “Bluenose” and “Aunt Happy”! In my view everyone should have an Aunt Happy in the family and a nickname like Bluenose had to have something to do with a bitterly cold Rangeley winter day. Have a great week. Go search for some of those natural delicacies and don’t get any bright ideas about building a fish weir in the spring on Quimby Pond!