Annette Qibbs manages the lodge's soeial calendar. 



Though spartan, the lodge's interior is spacious and inviting. 



here all my life. I'm in love with the lake. 

 I'm in love with the lodge." 



Even under duress, Mattamuskeet 

 Lodge is an unforgettable presence. A 12- 

 story observation tower, topped with a 

 flying goose weather vane, resembles a 

 lighthouse, and the white building capped 

 by its red roof, a grand manor. The central 

 three-story section is flanked by smaller 

 wings on either side, and the building is set 

 against a backdrop of lush greenery. The 

 quiet canal waters that form the lodge's 

 front lawn and back yard mirror the tableau. 



Inside, the dim corridors and many 

 dusty rooms awaiting refurbishing still seem 

 to emit faint echoes of their past vibrancy. 



The work in progress is renovation, 

 Gibbs stresses, not restoration. 



"We have two histories, so it's hard to 

 say 'restore,'" she explains. Owned by the 

 U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as part of 

 Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Refuge, 

 Mattamuskeet Lodge could not feasibly 

 recreate its past personas. 



When the building debuted in 1916 as 

 a pump house, it contained gargantuan 

 machinery that succeeded in draining Lake 

 Mattamuskeet. This was no small task, as 

 Mattamuskeet is the largest natural lake in 

 North Carolina. It covers more than 50,000 

 acres, though its depth averages only 2 feet. 



Framed by woodlands and fringed by 

 marshes, the lake's glimmering expanse is a 

 watery magnet for migratory birds and other 



creatures. In winter, flocLs of snow geese 

 and tundra swans turn the water white in 

 places. The swans' low whistles harmonize 

 with the calls of geese and ducks in a 

 winter symphony. Herons, egrets, eagles, 

 peregrine falcons, black bears, otters and 

 white-tailed deer are among the many wild 

 animals that also abide in Mattamuskeet's 

 wild embrace. 



Whether enshrouded in morning mist 

 or ablaze with a red and gold sunset, the 

 lake emanates a sense of timelessness and a 

 wisp of mystery. The story of its origin has 

 been lost to the eons that have since passed. 



The word "Mattamuskeet" is thought 

 to have roots in an Algonquian word for 

 "dry dust." An Algonquian legend 

 attributes the shallow lake bed formation to 

 a long-burning peat fire. Other theories 

 suggest wind and water created the 

 depression or a meteorite shower pounded 

 it into the soil. 



Filled by rainwater and runoff, 

 Mattamuskeet has no natural outlet. 

 Attempts to empty it and farm the rich 

 bottom soil began with the arrival of the 

 first European settlers. Mattamuskeet was 

 twice its current size until the 1830s, when 

 a drainage canal and gravity reduced the 

 lake to its present dimensions. 



The canal was commissioned by the 

 predecessor to the state Board of Education. 

 As its financing mechanism for public 

 schools, the board owned the lake, as it did 



all swamplands. The board and local 

 landowners were planning to pump out the 

 water remaining in the lake's lowest portion 

 when private investors offered to take the 

 project off their hands. The deal was done in 

 1911. The audacious idea of draining a lake 

 was not original — it had been inspired by a 

 similar, and successful, project in Holland. 

 The North Carolina group adopted the name 

 New Holland Farms for the undertaking. 



New Holland Farms built the pump 

 house and 130 miles of canals and, in 1916, 

 switched on the world's largest pumping 

 project. Powered by four coal-fired steam 

 engines, the eight centrifugal pumps could 

 move 1 .2 million gallons of water per 

 minute. Canals took the water seven miles 

 south to Pamlico Sound. A model develop- 

 ment was envisioned for the newly dry lake 

 bed, with houses and farms fanning out from 

 the pump house. 



The first — and, as it turned out, the 

 only — of four planned towns to be created 

 was called New Holland. The town in some 

 ways fulfilled its great expectations. Its 125 

 residents had running water, electricity and 

 telephones in the early 1920s before the rest 

 of the county. A shipping line on the canals 

 and a railroad through the dry lake bed 

 connected it to the world, while unpaved 

 county roads were often impassable. New 

 Holland had shops, a post office and the 

 New Holland Inn. 



But the investors themselves were not 



8 EARLY SUMMER 1998 



