It was a place known to the earliest travelers. Long before the dissection of this area by roads and railroads in the 19th century, it was a necessary part of a transportation route first used by the Native Americans in their spruce bark and birch canoes, and later it was used by trappers and our pioneer settlers. It was called the Falls of the Racket. We know that place today as Racquette Falls.
There are actually two falls, upper and lower, on this section of the river. The first, or upper, falls is located six miles downstream from where the river exits the basin, which has allowed the river to widen and is known as Long Lake. According to geologist Jerome Wyckoff, this lake is a perfect example of a large valley having eroded from the weaker rock in a fault zone millions of years ago and subsequently filling with water. The end result became a beautiful lake 14 miles in length with unsuspected vistas of the Seward Range as well as a combination of long, sandy beaches and lovely islands. A composition of rock, wood and water – a mix of public and private ownership loved by all who know it.
After having been rejoined by two major tributaries, Cold River and Moose Creek, the river cascades 15 feet over a rock outcropping that the ancient glacier’s relentless action failed to wear away. A large foam-flecked pool of recirculating water has been formed below that drop that canoeists call a hydraulic jump. Momentarily stalled, the river quickly regains its energy and drops 80 feet in the next vertical mile of distance, creating a stretch of rapids of slightly over half a mile. Millions of logs were driven down this corridor, and if you paddle this stretch, you can still see the bolts and their hand-forged eyelets and rings that were drilled into some of the midstream boulders by early river drivers to contain their booms. The river then plunges over the second, or lower, falls through a volcanic dike and a worn passage that lets the river drop with a roar through clouds of spray into a short, rocky gorge. It then quiets down and forms a pool cluttered with large rocks, where a canoe “carry” at a strip of sand beach is located. Note: This lower falls is a complicated section best left to only the most competent paddlers, and then only at optimum water levels. It is important that you determine your exit eddy if you plan to take out above the falls and run the section above.
On a personal level, I hang a large bandanna from an overhanging shoreline tree because the horizon line that drops away at the falls is hard to see before it’s too late. A 1.3-mile carry, or portage, allows the hiker or canoeist to avoid the stretch of rapids. Once just a narrow footpath, it was gradually widened to allow wagon travel. In fact, at one time during the late 1880s, a former lumberjack named Fournier (Anglicized to Funia?) would use his team of oxen to cart you and your boat across the carry. It has been reported that he often ferried as many as 20 boats a day. Cost: $1.25 for boat and gear on his wagon equipped with boat rack, or $1.50 for three passengers on his buckboard. Although the river is out of sight for the most part of the carry, the sound of the falls is distinctly heard.
The noise made by the many rapids on this river is heard frequently along its 170-mile course. Hedgehog and Moosehead rapids below Childwold, for example, can be heard a significant distance form the river. It is not surprising then to find that the St. Regis Indians (a branch of the Mohawk tribe), who knew the river as no one else, called it Ta-na-wa-deh, which, when translated to English, means “roughly swift” or “noisy water.” This soon became corrupted to Racket on account of the noise it made. That name and spelling was the one used by the earliest surveyors in their reports and appeared labeled as such on maps as early as 1802. Several other theories of the name’s baptism and its spelling exist, some of it necessarily folk etymology. Others take us into the territory of invented tradition or myth.
One interesting account comes from notes left by John Constable, a member of one of America’s first families, whose father, William, was a major player in the Macomb Purchase – the acquisition of the huge land tract in northern New York. Today that area constitutes all of St. Lawrence, Lewis and Jefferson counties as well as parts of Oswego and Herkimer counties.
John was one of the earliest gentleman sportsmen to explore the Adirondacks at a time when they were still unmapped and largely unknown. Annotated in the margins of his personal 1860 map of “Racket River Waters” by Merrit is this: “The Raquette River derives its name from a large quantity of snowshoes found on an island near Potsdam during the Revolution.”
According to historian and author Edith Pilcher in her 1992 narrative, The Constables, First Family of the Adirondacks:
The note is of considerable interest, if true, because John Constable’s information does not appear to be generally known and is contrary to accepted accounts. It suggests that Raquette Lake is named after the Raquette River, rather than vice-versa.
The opposing version of this story asserts that the snowshoes (called Raquettes in French) were found at the lake, rather than the river, as recounted by historian Alfred Donaldson. He related that the snowshoes were abandoned on the southern shore of Raquette Lake by Sir John Johnson and his Tory followers when they were overtaken by spring thaws while fleeing from the Mohawk Valley to Montreal in May (some say March) of 1776. The same story is told by historians Hochschild and Trimm.
It is impossible at this late date to determine who is correct, but it seems probable that John, who recorded his note nearly a century before Donaldson’s book, was apt to have been in personal contact with original sources of information.
Another theory insists that the name was derived from the resemblance to a snowshoe (Fr. Raquette) at the river’s mouth before it enters the St. Lawrence. The spelling Racquette with a “c” appeared about 1870 and was jointly used along with the spelling Racket. Later, the spelling Raquette with no “c” appeared. Today, all three spellings can be found, and all have their strong supporters. That makes it easy – take your choice!
Maybe the local highway department has the answer – the entrance to Racquette River Drive from the village off Route 30 has a street sign that reads “Racquette River Drive.” A mile further, where that street exits near Trail’s End to rejoin Route 30, the street sign reads “Raquette River Drive.” Now that’s diplomacy!