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Contributions to Economics

Oliver Fiala

Natural Disasters and


Individual Behaviour in
Developing Countries
Risk, Trust and the Demand
for Microinsurance
Contributions to Economics
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/1262
Oliver Fiala

Natural Disasters
and Individual Behaviour
in Developing Countries
Risk, Trust and the Demand
for Microinsurance
Oliver Fiala
Faculty of Business and Economics
TU Dresden
Dresden, Germany

ISSN 1431-1933 ISSN 2197-7178 (electronic)


Contributions to Economics
ISBN 978-3-319-53903-4 ISBN 978-3-319-53904-1 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-53904-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017935542

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017


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For Natasha—
Best of Wives and Best of Women
Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my supervisor, Prof. Hans Wiesmeth, for his continuous
support during my time at TU Dresden and the freedom he gave me to explore my
own research interests. I am also grateful for the feedback and encouragement I
received from Prof. Marcel Thum, which has helped to shape this publication.
Furthermore, I would like to thank my colleagues at TU Dresden for their
comments during the early stages of my research and for numerous inspiring
conversations through the years. Special thanks go to Dr. Dennis Häckl for initiat-
ing our Cambodian adventures and to our colleagues at the University of
Battambang, without whom the field research would not have been possible.
I am grateful to the Graduate Academy of TU Dresden for their financial support
in the latter stages of the writing process.
It is with heartfelt thanks that I acknowledge my entire—now larger—family,
and in particular my parents for encouraging me to ask questions and for loving and
supporting me through the years.
This book would not have been possible without the person I met along the path:
my wife and best friend. Our discussions have sparked new ideas and her love,
encouragement and support have strengthened me on my journey towards the
finishing line.

London Oliver Fiala


March 2017

vii
Contents

1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Reference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
2.1.1 Statistical Information . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
2.1.2 Role of Climate Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
2.1.3 Natural Disasters in Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
2.2 Impacts of Natural Disasters and Their Relevance for
Developing Countries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
2.2.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.2.2 Disasters and Macroeconomics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
2.2.3 Importance of Exposure, Vulnerability and Resilience . . . . 20
2.2.4 Disaster, Development and Their Complex
Relationship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
2.2.5 Impacts of Natural Disasters in Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
2.3 Disaster Risk Management . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.3.1 Risk Management Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.3.2 Approaches of Disaster Risk Management . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
2.3.3 Obstacles to Risk Management . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
2.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
2.4.1 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
2.4.2 Specification of Research Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
3 Experiencing Natural Disasters: How This Influences Risk Aversion
and Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
3.1 Risk and Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
3.1.1 Risk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
3.1.2 Trust and Trustworthiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
3.1.3 Interactions Between Risk and Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

ix
x Contents

3.2 The Impact of Natural Disasters on Individual Behaviour . . . . . . . 47


3.2.1 The Impact of Disaster Exposure on Risk Behaviour . . . . . 48
3.2.2 The Impact of Disaster Exposure on Individual Levels
of Trust and Trustworthiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
3.2.3 Research Hypotheses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
3.3 Description of the Experiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
3.3.1 Methodology and Theoretical Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
3.3.2 Scope of the Research and Preparation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
3.4 The Impact of Natural Disasters on Individuals’ Risk-Taking
Propensity in Rural Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
3.5 The Impact of Natural Disaster on Trust and Trustworthiness
in Rural Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
3.5.1 Description of Regression and Results . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
3.5.2 Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
3.5.3 Trustworthiness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
3.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
4 The Demand for Microinsurance Products Against Disaster
Risk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
4.1 Microinsurance as an Instrument of Disaster Risk
Management . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
4.1.1 Insurances for Disaster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
4.1.2 Description of Microinsurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
4.1.3 Microinsurance Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
4.2 Determinants of Microinsurance Demand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
4.2.1 Economic Factors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
4.2.2 Social Factors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
4.2.3 Structural Factors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
4.2.4 Personal Factors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
4.2.5 The Impact of Natural Disasters on Determinants of
Microinsurance Demand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
4.2.6 Conclusion and Research Hypotheses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
4.3 The Demand for Microinsurance in Rural Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . 123
4.3.1 The Interest in Microinsurance: First Results from
a Poisson Regression . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
4.3.2 Theoretical Background and Methodology of Discrete
Choice Experiments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
4.3.3 Research Design for Discrete Choice Experiment in
Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
4.3.4 The Demand for Microinsurance: Results of a Discrete
Choice Experiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
4.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
Contents xi

5 Going Forward: Building Resilience with Microinsurance . . . . . . . . 147


5.1 The Role of Individual Behaviour in Decision-Making
Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
5.2 Substitutes to Microinsurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
5.3 The Benefits of Microinsurance for Prevention
and Productivity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
5.4 Microinsurance Outlook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
5.5 Going Forward in the Context of Disaster Risk Management . . . . 157
References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165

Appendix A: Procedure of the Experiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167

Appendix B: Descriptive Statistics: Livelihoods and Coping


with Natural Disasters in Rural Cambodia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173

Appendix C: Robustness Checks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189

Appendix D: Research Designs of Selected Empirical Studies . . . . . . . . 191


Chapter 1
Introduction

In the last 45 years, the number of natural disasters has increased constantly,
affecting 6.6 billion people worldwide and causing the deaths of 3.2 million
(EM-DAT 2015). Climate change is likely to further escalate the frequency and
intensity of extreme weather events. Developing countries are particularly vulner-
able to these effects as the damage caused by natural disasters affects their devel-
opment processes, with significant impacts on poor households.
Natural disasters have severe economic and social impacts causing substantial
loss of human life, livelihoods, property and public infrastructure, as well as having
serious long-term effects on social and human capital. Additionally, natural disas-
ters are traumatic events and can have significant implications for individuals’
perceptions and expectations. Therefore, extreme weather events may not only
create structural damage, but also affects individuals’ behaviour as well as the
social norms and structural factors within a community. Thereby, the individual’s
risk propensity and level of trust are of particular interest as they impact decision-
making processes, which will determine both investments in productive activities
and social trust within communities.
In order to reduce vulnerability and build resilience towards disaster risks,
proactive, systematic and integrated risk management instruments are needed,
involving both ex ante strategies to reduce risks as well as ex post strategies to
cope with their consequences. In recent years, microinsurance—insurance provided
in developing countries with a focus on the poor—has emerged as one promising
instrument to counter disaster risk. However, even if microinsurance appears to be
an encouraging tool to protect vulnerable populations, the overall enrolment rates
remain unexpectedly low.
This study intends to investigate the complex link between natural disasters,
individual behaviour—particularly risk aversion and trust—and the demand for
microinsurance products in the context of disaster risk management, and its impor-
tance for economic development. Firstly, the effect of exposure to natural disaster
on the individual’s risk preferences and levels of trust and trustworthiness will be
investigated. There is a limited amount of economic research devoted to exploring

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 1


O. Fiala, Natural Disasters and Individual Behaviour in Developing Countries,
Contributions to Economics, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-53904-1_1
2 1 Introduction

these effects. Currently, the results are widely ambiguous and there is no consensus
as to how and whether natural disasters affect individuals’ behaviour.
The study will go on to explore the impact of individual behaviour as well as
other social, structural, economic and personal factors on the demand for
microinsurance, with a specific interest in the role of natural disaster experiences.
Although previous research has analysed microinsurance as a disaster risk manage-
ment instrument in recent years, the role of single determinants—particularly of
disaster exposure—are not clear, and this study seeks to add solid empirical
evidence to this discussion.
Finally, important results and conclusions of these analyses will be discussed in
the context of economic development, and implications for resilience-building
against disaster risks will be highlighted. The research framework is illustrated in
Fig. 1.1. As far as is known, this is the first comprehensive research connecting
these two literature threads by using both elements of experimental economics in
order to analyse individual behaviour as well as a choice experiment to elicit
preferences for hypothetical microinsurance demand.
Cambodia is one of the most disaster-prone countries in Southeast Asia and
suffers significant social and economic impacts due to frequent and severe floods
and droughts. Therefore, a unique data set following an extensive survey, two
behavioural experiments and a discrete choice experiment were used in rural
Cambodia to investigate the link between disaster experience, individual behaviour
and the hypothetical demand for microinsurance.
Chapter 2 introduces natural disasters with a particular focus on developing
countries. Following a statistical overview of disasters worldwide and in Cambodia,
the various and complex consequences of natural disasters as well as their impact
on developing economies and poverty will be discussed. Furthermore, a brief
introduction to the concept of disaster risk management will be provided.

Natural disaster

Chap. 3 Chap. 4

Individual Chap. 4
Demand for
behaviour
microinsurance
Risk, trust

Chap. 5

Resilience

Fig. 1.1 Research framework for this study


Reference 3

Chapter 3 investigates the effect of disaster experiences on individual behaviour.


After an introduction to possible theoretical and empirical explanations, the design
of the study and the experiments conducted in Cambodia will be described. The
effect of natural disasters on risk-taking propensity, trust and trustworthiness in
rural Cambodia will then be considered. Chapter 4 introduces microinsurance as an
instrument of disaster risk management and discusses in detail the determinants of
its demand. Subsequently, the impact of natural disasters, individual behaviour and
social characteristics on the demand for microinsurance in rural Cambodia will be
analysed. Chapter 5 summarises the insights of the empirical analyses and discusses
their implications for economic development and resilience-building. Chapter 6
provides the conclusion of the study.

Reference

EM-DAT (2015) The International Disaster Database. http://www.emdat.be/. Accessed 5 Jan 2015
Chapter 2
Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

Individuals and households are vulnerable to natural hazards, health shocks, fam-
ines, civil conflicts, crime and aggregate macroeconomic events. Rainfall, agricul-
tural shocks and droughts are common climate-related disasters in the developing
world with negative and long-lasting effects on individuals and households. These
include not only the destruction of livelihoods and poverty, but also long-term
impacts on human capital by affecting nutrition, education and health. Furthermore,
the frequent occurrences of such disasters may lead to or sustain poverty if
households are unable to recover savings and other assets during the experience
of several shocks (Oviedo and Moroz 2014).
Developing countries are particularly affected as risk is a factor in daily life and
a fundamental cause of underdevelopment (Cohen and Sebstad 2005; Dercon 2006;
Mosley 2009). Comprehensive and innovative risk management strategies are
necessary to develop social protection and break the vicious cycle of poverty and
vulnerability (Mosley 2009; Gehrke 2014).
Chapter 2 sets the foundation for the following study. Therefore, the three topics
of research relevant for analysis will be introduced more in detail: the occurrence of
natural hazards, the economic and social impacts of natural disasters, and the
concept of risk management.
Section 2.1 presents a statistical overview of natural disasters. Between 1970 and
2014, an increase in the number of natural disasters worldwide is evident, with 3.2
million killed and 6.6 billion people affected (EM-DAT 2015). Climate change is
likely to increase extreme weather events, their frequency and intensity. This may
result in more numerous floods and landslides, droughts and extreme temperatures.
Cambodia is one of the most disaster-prone countries in East Asia and is frequently
affected by severe floods and droughts.
Section 2.2 presents the various and complex consequences of natural disasters.
Multiple economic and social effects will be distinguished and empirical evidence
regarding short- and long-term effects on economic growth will be briefly
presented. The concepts of vulnerability, exposure and resilience will be introduced
and their importance for disaster impacts discussed. Based on these factors, the

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 5


O. Fiala, Natural Disasters and Individual Behaviour in Developing Countries,
Contributions to Economics, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-53904-1_2
6 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

complex relationship between disaster and development will be explored: while a


low level of economic development increases vulnerability towards disasters,
natural disasters are likely to have long-term consequences on poverty and
development.
Section 2.3 presents a brief introduction to the concept and framework of
disaster risk management. Risk management tools are necessary to remove or
reduce risks arising from natural disasters. The risk chain shows that the outcome
of natural disasters depends on the external environment, internal conditions and
risk management instruments.
Building on this introduction, the conclusion will summarise the main findings.
Furthermore, based on the introduced risk management framework, the research
questions for the following study will be specified and their integration into the
literature will be highlighted.

2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change

2.1.1 Statistical Information

To understand the impact of natural disasters and to discuss possible instruments of


disaster risk management, this chapter will provide a brief overview of the occur-
rences of extreme events worldwide, the role of climate change and the specific
situation in Cambodia.
Natural hazards are naturally occurring processes or phenomena which are
caused by atmospheric, geologic and hydrologic events. These can include floods,
droughts, storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, etc. They are harmful to humans
and have the potential to cause damage. Differences in severity, scale and fre-
quency are possible. Natural hazards can be expected, but cannot be prevented1
(Miththapala 2008; Eder et al. 2009; United Nations and World Bank 2010).
Natural disasters are the consequences or effects of natural hazards. They occur
when natural hazards cause a “serious breakdown in sustainability and disruption of
economic and social progress” (Eder et al. 2009), and “a large number of deaths,
displacements and damage to human well-being, as well as to ecosystem well-
being” (Miththapala 2008). In addition, the IPCC (2012) highlights an immediate
emergency response for human needs and external support as attributes of natural

1
The IPCC (2012) discusses ‘extreme events’ and classifies these by weather or climate variables
which are above (below) thresholds near the upper (lower) ends of the observed values of the
variable.
2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change 7

450
Occurrence for different types of disaster

400

350

300

250

200

150

100

50

Geophysical Climatological Meteorological Hydrological

Fig. 2.1 Occurrences of different types of disaster (1970–2014). Data source: EM-DAT (2015)

disasters. In contrast to natural hazards, disasters can be prevented or the effects can
be reduced by applying different measures (Miththapala 2008).2
Natural disaster statistics and the understanding of risk profiles are essential for
efficient resource allocations (Guha-Sapir et al. 2013). There are numerous sources
for statistics about the occurrence of natural disasters, although three main data-
bases are found most frequently in the literature. The most cited is the EM-DAT
database from the Center for Research on the Epidemiology of Disasters, due to its
public availability.3
Between 1970 and 2014, an increase in the number of natural disasters is
recorded as shown in Fig. 2.1. Hydrological events such as floods are the most
common hazards, followed by meteorological events (predominantly storms).4 An

2
Different kinds of disasters can be distinguished by their cause. A common terminology was
defined by, among others, Munich Re, Swiss Re, Center for Research on the Epidemiology of
Disasters (CRED) and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) (see Banholzer et al.
2014). Geophysical (earthquake, tsunami, volcanic eruption, dry mass landslide), meteorological
(hurricane, typhoon, cyclone), hydrological (flood, wet mass landslide) and climatological
(drought, extreme temperatures) events are distinguished (EM-DAT 2015).
3
The NatCat database by Munich Re and Sigma by Swiss Re are not publicly available. Although
the terminology and categories are commonly defined, they have different inclusion criteria, and
are therefore not strictly comparable and have their own strengths and weaknesses (United Nations
and World Bank 2010).
4
To enter a disaster into the EM-DAT database, at least one criteria must be fulfilled: ten or more
people reported killed, one hundred or more people reported affected, a state of emergency
declared, a call for international assistance. The database provides information about disaster
type and group, country of occurrence, date; number of deaths, missing, injured (physical injuries,
trauma or illness as a direct result of the disaster), homeless (house is destroyed or heavily
damaged), affected (people who require immediate assistance during emergency period); esti-
mated damage to property, crops and livestock (EM-DAT 2015).
8 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

3000
Occurrence of events

2500

2000

1500

1000

500

0
South and Central Asia Africa Central and North Europe Oceania
South-East South America
Asia America

Geophysical Climatological Meteorological Hydrological

Fig. 2.2 Occurrence of events in different regions (1970–2014). Data source: EM-DAT (2015)

increasing number of disasters can be attributed to both higher exposure and


vulnerability (including urbanisation, settlement patterns, etc.) and changing cli-
mate extremes, which can be partly explained by anthropogenic influences, as
analysed in Sects. 2.1.2 and 2.2.3 respectively (IPCC 2012).
Figure 2.2 shows the local distribution of natural disasters and distinguishes
again for the type of disaster. Asia is the region most prone to hazards. In South and
Southeast Asia, 2,679 events occurred between 1970 and 2014, more than in North
America, Europe and Oceania combined in the same period. Therefore, 42.4% of all
events in the last 44 years happened in Asia, followed by Central and South
America with 17.7% and Africa with 14.0% (EM-DAT 2015).
Between 1970 and 2014, an average of 151 million people were affected and
ca. 73,000 were killed every year by natural disasters (EM-DAT 2015). Figure 2.3
illustrates the affected populations for different regions. The graph shows that Asia
again has by far the highest number of affected people. The main types of disaster
are climatological hazards (droughts, extreme temperatures) and hydrological
disasters (floods).
Figure 2.4 illustrates, by region, the number of people killed as a direct conse-
quence of disaster. High numbers of people are killed by geophysical events
(earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions) in Asia and Central and South America
(ca. 1.3 million). Other devastating events for human lives include storms in Asia
and droughts in Africa (EM-DAT 2015).
The EM-DAT database offers information about damages in US Dollars (in the
year of the occurrence). Figure 2.5 shows the damages for different regions and
disasters types, indicating high damages caused by storms in North America as well
as geophysical events in Asia. However, other disasters, especially floods, have
caused substantial damage across the world, particularly in Asia.
2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change 9

2,500
People affected (millions)

2,000

1,500

1,000

500

0
South and Central Asia Africa Central and North Europe Oceania
South-East South America
Asia America

Geophysical Climatological Meteorological Hydrological

Fig. 2.3 People affected by natural disasters in different regions (1970–2014). Data source:
EM-DAT (2015)

800

700
People killed (thousands)

600

500

400

300

200

100

0
South and Central Asia Africa Central and North Europe Oceania
South-East South America
Asia America
Geophysical Climatological Meteorological Hydrological

Fig. 2.4 People killed by natural disasters in different regions (1970–2014). Data source:
EM-DAT (2015)

In total, ca. 3.2 million people died between 1970 and 2014 worldwide, while 6.6
billion people were affected (EM-DAT 2015). Figure 2.6 shows that deaths,
numbers of affected people and damages fluctuate over time. Whilst a positive
trend in the number of events is noticeable (see Fig. 2.1), there is only low statistical
confidence for a positive trend over time for the numbers of people killed despite
increasing population and exposure, which suggests that preventive measures have
been effective (United Nations and World Bank 2010).
10 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

700
Damages in US Dollar (billions)

600

500

400

300

200

100

0
South and Central Asia Africa Central and North Europe Oceania
South-East South America
Asia America
Geophysical Climatological Meteorological Hydrological

Fig. 2.5 Damages in US Dollars caused by disasters in different regions (1970–2014). Data
source: EM-DAT (2015)
Damages in US Dollars (billions)

700,000 500
People affected (thousands) /

450

People killed (thousands)


600,000
400
500,000 350
300
400,000
250
300,000 200
200,000 150
100
100,000
50
0 0

total damage affected killed

Fig. 2.6 Number of people affected, number of people killed and damages in US Dollars (1970
until 2014). Data source: EM-DAT (2015), total damages adjusted to value of US Dollars in 2014

2.1.2 Role of Climate Change

Climate change is likely to increase extreme weather events, their frequency and
intensity and will worsen natural hazards in most regions of the world.5 While

5
Climate change describes changes in the state of the climate. Hereby the mean and/or variability
of its properties change and persist for an extended period. Climate change can arise from natural
processes as well as persistent anthropogenic changes. The confidence of predictions depends on
many factors, including types of extremes, the region, quality of data and level of understanding of
underlying processes, etc (IPCC 2012, 2014).
2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change 11

average changes of long-term levels in temperature, precipitation and other mete-


orological variables themselves have serious impacts, climate change will be felt
due to changes in climate variability and express itself in weather extremes such as
floods, droughts, heat waves and storms. Hereby, anthropogenic climate change
will affect the location, timing, frequency, duration and intensity of extreme events
(van Aalst 2006; IPCC 2012; The Royal Society 2014; Hallegatte et al. 2016).
In the literature it is seen as likely that climate change increases both the
frequency and intensity of extreme precipitation events, resulting in more numerous
floods and landslides (van Aalst 2006; IPCC 2012). The number of people exposed
to floods could increase by between 4 and 15% in 2030 and between 12 and 29% in
2080 under a high-emission scenario (Winsemius et al. 2015). Economic losses
from river floods are projected to increase by between 7 and 124% on average by
2040, depending on the applied method and the chosen region (Bouwer 2013).
The evolution of droughts depends on a complex process involving precipita-
tion, seasonal cycles, snow packs, and evaporation rates, however medium confi-
dence is presented that droughts will intensify during some seasons in some areas.
Droughts are likely to become more common in the Mediterranean basin, Southeast
Europe, North Africa, Southern Africa, Australia, South America, and Central
America. Under a high-emission scenario, the number of people exposed to
droughts could increase by between 9% and 17% in 2030 and between 50 and
90% in 2080 (van Aalst 2006; IPCC 2012; Winsemius et al. 2015; Hallegatte et al.
2016).
Furthermore, climate models project substantial warming in temperature
extremes by the end of the century, leading to more frequent and intense heat
waves in most regions of the world with significant harmful effects on ecosystem
function and people’s well-being (van Aalst 2006; IPCC 2012; Hallegatte et al.
2016). In addition, the mean sea level rise will have widespread consequences on
coastal risk and cause, in combination with local approaches, coastal floods with
disastrous consequences (IPCC 2012; Hallegatte et al. 2016). Finally, the average
tropical cyclone speed is likely to increase in some areas, while the global fre-
quency of tropical storms may decrease or remain unchanged (IPCC 2012). How-
ever, tropical storms (hurricanes, typhoons) and extratropical storms may be
impacted differently (Hallegatte et al. 2016).
However, uncertainty persists around the specific magnitude of climate change
and its impacts on extreme weather events. While climate models are much more
reliable over long time periods and large spatial areas as well as for certain climate
variables (e.g. temperature), extreme events often occur at a more local level and
over shorter time scales. In addition, structural uncertainty remains around some of
the underlying climate processes and the abrupt changes they cause to the global
climate system (van Aalst 2006; Weitzman 2009; The Royal Society 2014).
Despite these uncertainties, many changes in climate variability and weather
extremes on the regional and local levels are apparent enough to warrant attention
(van Aalst 2006). Overall, climate change and its impact on extreme events
highlight the adverse effects of natural hazards and disasters as well as the impor-
tance of risk and risk management. The following section highlights the
12 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

significance of disaster risk in Cambodia, followed by an overview of the various


and complex impacts of natural disasters.

2.1.3 Natural Disasters in Cambodia

Cambodia is one of the most disaster-prone countries in Southeast Asia, with


significant social and economic impacts of hydrometeorological hazards such as
floods, storms, and typhoons (World Bank 2016a). With more than 31,000 affected
persons per million of the population, Cambodia has the highest rate of affected
people amongst low-income member states of the Asian Development Bank (Guha-
Sapir and Hoyois 2015).6 The increasing frequency of larger extreme climate
events has already resulted in more severe and frequent floods and droughts
(World Bank 2016a).
The Cambodian National Committee for Disaster Management recorded 13.5
million affected people between 2000 and 2015 in the Disaster Loss Database, as
well as 57,333 damaged or destroyed houses and 1975 deaths in the same period
due to disasters (National Committee for Disaster Management 2016). In the same
period of time, in Battambang province—the area of study for the following
experiment and survey (see Chap. 3)—734,693 people were affected by disasters,
9380 houses were destroyed or damaged and 118 deaths were reported (National
Committee for Disaster Management 2016). Figure 2.7 shows Cambodia as a whole
and highlights Battambang province.
Figure 2.8 shows the proportion of disaster impact by type for Cambodia overall
and specifically for Battambang province. Figure 2.9 presents the numbers of
affected people over time for Cambodia overall and for Battambang province.
Floods are the main disaster type in Cambodia, accounting for more than
85% of the total number of victims and damages, followed by droughts and
storms (National Committee for Disaster Management 2008; Guha-Sapir and
Hoyois 2015). Cambodia’s vast flood plains make large portions of the country
naturally vulnerable to annual flooding along the Tonlé Sap Lake and Mekong
River, with both beneficial and harmful effects (National Committee for Disaster
Management 2008). Although Cambodia does not face flood risks of the mag-
nitude and intensity of other Asian countries (e.g. Bangladesh), the impact of
floods is severe due to a combination of exposure as well as high levels of
vulnerability of rural people due to major limitations in their ability to cope
(Vathana et al. 2013).

6
Asia is particularly exposed to natural hazards. Member states of the Asian Development Bank
represent 57% of the world population, but 88% of the disaster-affected. Floods accounted for
more than a third of disasters in Asia between 1980 and 2012 (Guha-Sapir and Hoyois 2015).
2.1 Natural Disasters and the Role of Climate Change 13

Battambang Tonlé Sap Lake

Mekong River

Phnom Penh

Fig. 2.7 Cambodia and Battambang province. Author’s illustration, using Open Development
(2016)

Fig. 2.8 Proportion of disaster impact by type for Cambodia and Battambang province from 2000
to 2015. Data source: National Committee for Disaster Management (2016). Asterisks includes
river bank collapse; Double asterisks fire, epidemic, lightning, pest outbreak
14 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

Cambodia Battambang
4,000 400

3,500 350

3,000 300

People affected
People affected

2,500 250

2,000 200

1,500 150

1,000 100

500 50

0 0

Fig. 2.9 Number of affected people (in thousands) in Cambodia and Battambang province from
2000 to 2015. Data source: National Committee for Disaster Management (2016)

Climate change will also play a significant role in Cambodia and impact future
extreme weather events. The mean annual temperatures are expected to increase
across Cambodia by between 1.4 and 4.3  C by 2090 and projections indicate a
substantial increase in the frequency of days and nights considered as ‘hot’
(World Bank 2016b). Furthermore, the direct impact of climate change may be
seen in changing rainfall patterns, with increasing rainfall in the wet season and
decreasing rainfall in the dry season (World Bank et al. 2013). However, due to
the lack of dependable, quality long-term data series and model uncertainties, it is
not possible to obtain a clear picture of climate change impact on precipitation
and floods in Cambodia (Nguyen et al. 2009; World Bank 2016b). In any case,
risk management approaches and climate change adaptation will be needed due to
the changing magnitude and frequency of extreme weather events (Vathana et al.
2013).

2.2 Impacts of Natural Disasters and Their Relevance


for Developing Countries

Natural disasters have various and complex impacts on individuals, communities as


well as on larger regions and nations. The following section will distinguish
different effects and consequences both economically and socially. Section 2.2.2
will present empirical evidence regarding short- and long-term effects on economic
activity.
In order to investigate the diverse impacts of disasters in countries with varying
levels of economic development, Sect. 2.2.3 introduces the concepts of vulnerabil-
ity, exposure and resilience. Based on these concepts, the complex relationship
2.2 Impacts of Natural Disasters and Their Relevance for Developing Countries 15

between natural disasters and development will be analysed in more detail. Finally,
the impact of natural disasters in Cambodia will be briefly presented.
Given the multiplicity of consequences, this chapter can only provide a brief
overview of various dimensions. Furthermore, disaster impact on behaviour and
decision-making processes will be left aside here and discussed in more detail in
Chap. 3.

2.2.1 Introduction

Natural disasters can have severe economic and social impacts and can lead to
substantial costs in terms of human life, property, infrastructure and others, which if
avoidable could lead to large welfare gains. Even more importantly, shocks can
cause significant and serious long-term impacts to human, social and physical
capital7 (Chhibber and Laajaj 2013; World Bank 2013).
Natural disaster impacts can be distinguished into direct costs (loss of human
life, damage to buildings, crops, infrastructure, etc.) and indirect costs (lost output
and investment, macroeconomic imbalances, lower human capital, etc.). Another
distinction is into short- and long-term effects, however the following description
follows the direct/indirect distinction.
Direct impacts are damages that are directly attributable to the effect of natural
forces (Munich Re 2013). On the one hand, these include social impacts such as loss
of human life, personal health, trauma and psychological stress (Cavallo and Noy
2010; Kousky 2012; Sharma 2015). On the other hand, significant economic
impacts arise: loss of fixed assets and capital (buildings, infrastructure, property),
damage to raw materials and extractable natural resources and the disruption of
economic activity (Cavallo and Noy 2010; Kousky 2012; Ranger and Surminski
2013). In particular, the damage to agricultural outcome and assets (crops, live-
stock, farm equipment) often has a significant impact on a household’s livelihood,
with a particularly adverse effect on vulnerable members of a community (Haigh
and Amaratunga 2010; Kousky 2012). In addition, costs of emergency response
(evacuation, rescue, clean-up) can be included in direct costs (Kousky 2012).
Finally, damages to the environment (water quality, soil, biodiversity, ecosystem)
and other public goods (electricity supply, drinking water supply, schools, hospitals
and other infrastructure) can be recorded, often with significant difficulties in

7
Impacts (also consequences or outcomes) generally describe effects on lives, livelihoods, econo-
mies, services, infrastructures, health, ecosystems, societies, and cultures due to the interaction of
extreme weather events with the vulnerability of an exposed society and system, within a specific
period of time (IPCC 2014). The role of vulnerability and exposure will be discussed in Chap. 2.2.3.
16 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

estimating an economic value due to their non-market nature (Navrud and


Magnussen 2013).
Indirect costs arise in the aftermath of direct costs and include a wide range of
damages, from macroeconomic factors to conflicts (Munich Re 2013). In particular,
this includes economic activity (notably the production of services and goods) that
will not take place due to the occurrence of a disaster (Cavallo and Noy 2010). The
indirect impacts may be caused by direct damages to physical infrastructure,
reallocation of resources from production to reconstruction, or additional costs
due to the usage of alternatives for production or distribution (Cavallo and Noy
2010; Kousky 2012). Furthermore, indirect costs include multiplier effects from
both reductions in demand or increases in supply, due to destruction and recovery
respectively (Kousky 2012). In addition to business interruptions, the loss of
infrastructure and damages to public services can lead to utility loss of households
in terms of lower quality of life or the adaptation to costly measures such as
increased commuting time, individual energy supply, etc (Kousky 2012).
Furthermore, significant social costs arise indirectly from disasters. Shocks can
have severe impacts on communities, ranging from short-term displacement to
permanent psychosocial setbacks (Sharma 2015). In addition, significant long-
term impacts on human capital (health, education) are evident. Besides adverse
effects on health due to destroyed social infrastructure (hospitals, drinking water
supply, etc.) and therefore problems of sanitation, natural disasters—in particular
droughts—have significant impacts on the health of individuals. Evidence suggest
that droughts are most harmful to children under the age of three, with long-lasting,
negative effects on cognitive skills and productivity, although the effect on human
capital is likely to be context specific (United Nations and World Bank 2010;
Oviedo and Moroz 2014; Sharma 2015). Furthermore, there is evidence for nega-
tive effects of natural disasters on education, with significant drops in school
enrolment rates following disasters (United Nations and World Bank 2010; Oviedo
and Moroz 2014; Sharma 2015). Other effects include reduced agricultural output
in the aftermath of a disaster due to disaster-related water scarcity, and adverse
effects on economies due to disruptions in the distribution of products and in
business travel (United Nations and World Bank 2010). Finally, there is evidence
of a causal connection between disaster experience and conflicts, especially in
Africa (World Bank 2007, 2013; United Nations and World Bank 2010; Chhibber
and Laajaj 2013).
Following the overview of the vast majority of direct and indirect effects, the
following section presents evidence for the macroeconomic impact of disasters, in
particular on growth. The impact of natural disasters on individuals and households
will be discussed in detail in Sect. 2.2.4 with respect to the roles of poverty and
development.
2.2 Impacts of Natural Disasters and Their Relevance for Developing Countries 17

2.2.2 Disasters and Macroeconomics

Natural disasters have the potential to cause macroeconomic consequences, includ-


ing impacts on fiscal revenues, investment rates, levels of indebtedness and eco-
nomic growth. However, the direction of this effect is not clear a priori: while
severe damages decrease the aggregate output, post-disaster reconstruction
increases output (Benson and Clay 2004; Collier 2005; Kousky 2012).
Various macroeconomic impacts are possible. Damage to firms could change
exports and imports. A country’s indebtedness could alter due to the damage to
assets and income-earning opportunities—which decrease tax revenues—and gov-
ernment spending on emergency response. Inflation can be impacted by serious
price changes resulting from a shock and foreign investment could decrease.
However, the majority of the literature concentrates on the effect of natural
disasters on economic growth (Otero and Martı́ 1995; Freeman et al. 2003; Kousky
2012; Munich Re 2013).
The following consideration of disaster impact on economic growth distin-
guishes between short-term effects (up to several years) and long-term effects
(at least 5 years). The presented evidence provides valuable insights, particularly
into long-term development. However, overall macroeconomic studies face several
methodological difficulties, which is a reason that a large body of literature focuses
on case studies.8 Due to the difficulties associated with macroeconomic studies,
microeconomic analyses can provide valuable insights (Benson and Clay 2004;
Chhibber and Laajaj 2013).
Short-Term Impact on Economic Growth
One would expect that a disaster would reduce outputs due to both physical damage
and disruptions to normal economic activities (United Nations and World Bank
2010). A small scope of older research found positive effects on gross domestic
product (GDP) immediately after a disaster due to the replacement of damaged
physical capital (Albala-Bertrand 1993; Otero and Martı́ 1995). However, most of
the current research finds negative impacts of natural disaster on economic growth
(Benson and Clay 2004; Raddatz 2007; Hochrainer 2009; Noy 2009; Toya and
Skidmore 2012). These ambiguous effects may be explained by difficulties in
identifying underlying causal effects of natural disaster production output (United
Nations and World Bank 2010).
As expected, more severe events lead to greater impacts (Hochrainer 2009; Noy
2009; Kousky 2012). Although Noy and Tam (2010) show evidence for this
observation in terms of lives lost and affected, costlier disasters in terms of

8
Both theoretical problems as well as extreme data limitations are issues that impact actual
estimations of disaster effects; even in highly developed countries, comprehensive disaster loss
data is rare (Kousky 2012). Furthermore, although much attention is given to major events, the
cumulative losses associated with ‘smaller disasters’ may be equally as significant (Chhibber and
Laajaj 2013). Finally, macroeconomic shocks have indirect impacts on other—non-affected—
regions and countries (food price fluctuations, etc.), which are usually not considered.
18 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

destroyed capital actually boost the economy in the short run. Economic effects are
also more negative in smaller countries or in spatial areas within countries (Noy
2009; Kousky 2012). In addition, developing countries face larger output declines
following a disaster than developed countries (Noy 2009). Countries with better
institutions, higher per capita income, higher literacy rates as well as higher levels
of trade openness and government spending are better able to withstand a disaster
and to prevent further macroeconomic spill-over effects (Noy 2009). Furthermore,
adverse disaster consequences also decrease with higher levels of aid and remit-
tances (Hochrainer 2009). Finally, Cavallo et al. (2010) find negative macroeco-
nomic impacts in cases where natural disasters were followed by a radical political
revolution.
Long-Term Impact on Economic Growth
Theoretically, the effect of natural disasters on long-term consequences is not clear.
Positive, negative as well as no significant impact are all possible outcomes
(Benson and Clay 2004; World Bank 2007; Chhibber and Laajaj 2013).
Positive long-term effects can be explained following a Schumpeterian model of
endogenous growth. The natural disaster requires capital replacement, which is
likely to embody technological change that raises productivity and economic
growth, compensating the negative effects of a disaster (Aghion and Howitt
1998; World Bank 2007; Chhibber and Laajaj 2013).
Negative long-term effects can be expected due to the damage of capital and
human resources or reductions of productivity due to disruptions of markets and
infrastructure. In particular, the disruption of education and health services
explained above are likely to have negative long-term consequences. Furthermore,
resources used in the aftermath of a disaster are not necessarily additional, leading
to the reallocation of capital away from planned investments and therefore come
with high opportunity costs. In addition, reconstruction efforts are not always well
planned and organised. Finally, consecutive natural disasters create an atmosphere
of uncertainty, which discourages potential future investments (Freeman et al.
2003; Benson and Clay 2004; World Bank 2007; Chhibber and Laajaj 2013).
Overall, the impact of natural disasters on long-term development is difficult to
observe due to different direct and indirect effects of losses on stocks and flows as
well as the multiple and complex interactions of these effects (Chhibber and Laajaj
2013). Therefore, four different scenarios are possible. Following the shock of a
natural disaster, a negative impact on growth can be assumed due to immediate
losses in human and physical capital and their direct and indirect effects on per
capita growth.
Scenarios A and B in Fig. 2.10 show no long-term effect of the disaster on
economic development, with a possible economic expansion during reconstruction
in Scenario B. In Scenario C, the disaster reduces the capital stock permanently and
the long-term equilibrium is therefore established at a lower level. In contrast, in
Scenario D the recovery of both physical and human capital comes with techno-
logical change and therefore enhances long-term economic growth. However,
2.2 Impacts of Natural Disasters and Their Relevance for Developing Countries 19

Scenario A Scenario B
GDP/capita

GDP/capita
Disaster Time Disaster Time

Scenario C Scenario D

GDP/capita
GDP/capita

Disaster Time Disaster Time

Fig. 2.10 Possible impact of natural disaster on long-term development. Own illustration follow-
ing World Bank (2007) and Chhibber and Laajaj (2013)

different types of disasters can be associated with the various scenarios (World
Bank 2007; Chhibber and Laajaj 2013).
There are also empirically ambiguous results of the long-term consequences of
natural disasters. Albala-Bertrand (1993) finds no long-term effect of disasters on
the growth rates of 26 countries from 1960 until 1976, therefore reflecting Scenarios
A and B. Skidmore and Toya (2002) investigate the impact of disasters on long-run
economic growth for 89 countries between 1960 and 1990 and find that the
frequency of climate disasters is positively correlated with average annual growth
rates as well as a positive impact of disasters on productivity. These results support
Schumpeter’s ‘creative destruction’ and therefore indicate Scenario D. An analysis
by Benson (2003) for 115 countries of a period between 1960 and 1993 suggests
that countries experiencing natural disasters tend to achieve lower growth rates than
unaffected countries, indicating Scenario C [results reported by Benson and Clay
(2004)]. Using a panel of 113 countries over 36 years, Jaramillo (2009) finds a
permanent negative impact of disasters on growth rates (Scenario C).
To conclude, the effects of natural disaster on long-term development are highly
ambiguous, both theoretically and empirically, and need more research. However,
the role of institutions, uncertainty and systematic information as well as the types
of disaster, their frequency and impact are important for a country’s ability to cope
with disasters (Chhibber and Laajaj 2013). The following section will introduce the
20 2 Natural Disasters in Developing Countries

different concepts of vulnerability, exposure and resilience and highlight their roles
in the analysis of disaster impact.

2.2.3 Importance of Exposure, Vulnerability and Resilience

Vulnerability, exposure and resilience are regularly discussed concepts that char-
acterise how an individual or system is affected by natural disasters and therefore
how this impacts the scope of possible consequences (United Nations and World
Bank 2010). The following sections introduce the different approaches and describe
determinants which affect vulnerability, exposure and resilience.
Vulnerability is described as high susceptibility to damages and losses from
negative shocks depending on a system’s exposure, internal conditions, and risk
management (Brown et al. 2006; UNISDR 2009; World Bank 2013). Vulnerability
therefore comprises several characteristics (economic, social, political factors)
which impact an individual’s or system’s capability to cope with a natural hazard
(Miththapala 2008; United Nations and World Bank 2010; Toya and Skidmore
2012; IPCC 2014). In a broader sense, vulnerability is a complex and multi-sectoral
concept and extends from the micro level of an individual to the macro level of an
entire region (Davis 2015).
A system’s vulnerability depends on its exposure to hazardous events among
others (Brown et al. 2006). Exposure is the presence of people, livelihoods,
ecosystems, resources, or economic, social and cultural assets in a hazard zone
that are thereby subject to potential losses by an adverse shock (UNISDR 2009;
United Nations and World Bank 2010; IPCC 2014). It can also be described as the
external environment that determines the shock (World Bank 2013).
The third concept is resilience: the ability of an individual or system to resist,
absorb and recover from the effects of an adverse shock while retaining or improv-
ing the system’s functioning, and maintaining its essential structures and functions
(UNISDR 2009; World Bank 2013; IPCC 2014). It is characterised by the amount
of change the system can undergo whilst still maintaining control of function and
structure, as well as the degree of self-organisation of which the system is capable
(Brown et al. 2006). Furthermore, the ability to maintain the capacity for adapta-
tion, learning, and transformation is an essential component (Brown et al. 2006;
IPCC 2014; The Royal Society 2014). However, the definition varies according to
the applied context (Haigh and Amaratunga 2010).9

9
Resilience can be increased as change progresses, although steps forward are processes rather
than outcomes. ‘Surviving’ describes most risk reduction instruments that improve the ability to
cope with shocks, but may involve a lower quality of life as a result. ‘Adaptation’ involves changes
of structures, livelihoods and lifestyles and aims to adjust to actual or expected climate effects.
Finally, ‘transformation’ changes fundamental attributes of a natural or human system in order to
increase resilience and therefore reduces the impact of large adverse shocks (IPCC 2014; The
Royal Society 2014).
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asked a portly old man if we could drive in, as it looked like rain.
“Yes, and quick too,” he said, hobbling ahead of us. We were
scarcely under cover before the cloud burst, and such a gust of wind
came as it seemed must have overturned our phaeton if we had
been exposed to it. We threw our wraps over our heads and ran to
the house, where we were kindly received, amid the banging of
doors and crackling of glass. The rain fell in sheets and the lightning
flashes almost blinded us, but in an hour, perhaps less, we were on
our way again, dry and peaceful, the sun shining and the clean,
washed roads and prostrate limbs of trees simply reminding us there
had been a shower. We spent the night at Penacook, formerly
Fisherville.
By this time we had decided we would deviate from our straight
course to Mt. Washington just a bit, only a few miles, and spend a
night at Weirs. We remembered very well our last drive from Weirs to
Penacook via Tilton and Franklin, and thought to take the same
course this time. Franklin came to hand all right, but where was
Tilton? We were sure we knew the way, but were equally sure Tilton
should have put in an appearance. We inquired, and were much
surprised when told we had taken a wrong turn, or failed, rather, to
take the right one seven miles back. We had not only lost our way to
Weirs, but we were off our course to Mt. Washington, and there is no
such thing as going “across lots” in that part of the country. Not
knowing what to do, we said we would have luncheon, and take time
to accept the situation.
At this point we discovered that our diary was left twenty miles back
at Penacook. Our first dilemma paled before this, for that diary
means something; indeed, it means everything. Without it, life would
not be worth living—even were it possible. We must have it. But how
should we get it? We went back to the man in the garden, and he
told us a train would go down directly, and we could get back the
same afternoon, he thought. We considered it only a moment, for
having lost our way and the diary, we feared losing each other or
Charlie next. We returned to the carriage, unharnessed Charlie, tied
him to a telegraph pole, then took our luncheon. After a good rest
our way seemed clear, and we started on towards Bristol, resolved
that we would make no more plans, but give ourselves up to the
guidance of Fate. We find in the “jotting column” for that day, “A
criss-cross day.” Our honest intention to go straight to Mt.
Washington was overthrown, and we found ourselves at night
castaways on the shores of Newfound Lake, while our letters
awaited us at Weirs, and the diary was speeding its way to
Plymouth, in response to a telegram.
Eleven miles driving the next morning brought us to the
Pemigewasset House, Plymouth, just in season to telephone our
mail from Weirs on the one o’clock train. We felt like embracing the
express boy who handed us the precious sealed package from
Penacook. Thanks and a quarter seemed a poor expression of our
real feelings. Perfect happiness restored, where should we go to
enjoy it over Sunday? Fate suggested Rumney, and we quickly
assented, remembering its delightful quiet, and the lovely drive of
eight miles. We could go across from Plymouth to Centre Harbor,
and thence to Conway, as we had planned, but we would not. We
had been defeated and determined to stay so. The drive along the
valley was as lovely as ever, and a look of pleasant recognition was
on the face of our hostess at the “Stinson House” in Rumney. After
supper we took our sketch book and strolled through the meadow to
the river bank, quite artist like. We spent the next day quietly in our
room, reading and writing, until towards night, then drove two miles
to call on a lady who had found us out through the Transcript, and
assured us a welcome if we ever drove to Rumney again. We had a
delightful hour with our new friends, and left them with a promise to
return in the morning for a few days.
It would fill the Transcript if we were to tell you all we enjoyed in that
little visit, the adventures, pedestrian excursions, camping on
islands, nights in caves and barns, related by our friends, which
made us long to explore for ourselves the region about Rumney.
Some of the Transcript readers may remember a letter two years
ago (Feb. 15, 1884), from one of a party of six who braved Franconia
Notch in winter. We read it with great interest at the time, and
wondered from which house in Rumney so brave and jolly a party
started. Our curiosity was more than gratified by finding ourselves
guests in the hospitable home, and by meeting several of the party,
two of whom arrived from Boston while we were there. One morning
we bowled in the loft of the ideal barn, and one rainy afternoon we
had lessons in perspective. Miss D. proved a good instructor, and we
thought we were fair pupils as we talked glibly of the station point,
point of sight, base and horizontal lines, and the vanishing point, and
reproduced Mrs. Q.’s desk by rule.
We reluctantly left our friends to their camping preparations, while
we traveled over once more the route of the sleighing party. This was
our fourth drive through the Pemigewasset Valley, but its beauty is
ever new. We took two hours’ rest at the entrance of a cathedral-like
archway of trees, which now adorns our parlor in “oils.” We tried to
sketch properly, but, alas! all our points were “vanishing points”
without Miss D. at hand, and we returned to the ways of ignorance.
We spent the night at “Tuttle’s,” and heard from the cheery old lady
and “Priscilla” the story of the sleighing party who were refused
shelter at the Flume House, and though half-perished with cold had
to drive back seven miles to spend the night with them. She told us
how sorry she was for them, and how she built a roaring fire in the
old kitchen fireplace, and filled the warming-pans for them. We
imagined how good they must have felt buried in the hot feathers
that cold night.
We did not visit the Flume this time, but just paid our respects to the
Old Man, took breath and a sketch at Echo Lake, and gathered
mosses as we walked up and down the steep places through the
Notch. We spent the night in Bethlehem, and enjoyed a superb
sunset. We went several miles out of our way the next day to see the
Cherry Mountain slide, which occurred the week before. We were
introduced to the proprietor of the ruined farm, caressed the beautiful
horse, pitied the once fine cow, which now had scarcely a whole
bone in her body, and learned many interesting details from the
daughter, a bright girl. It was a forlorn spectacle, and a striking
contrast to the drive we had after retracing our steps to Whitefield.
Charlie had traveled far enough for such a hot day, but we knew the
Lancaster post office had something for us, and we could not wait,
so started leisurely, promising to help poor Charlie all we could. He
understood us well enough to stop at the foot of every hill, and at the
top of very steep ones, to let us get out and walk. We were repaid a
thousand times by the magnificent views of the Franconia range until
we reached the highest point, when the glories north opened before
us. We were now facing new scenes for the first time since we left
home, and yet we felt at home in Lancaster, for another Lancaster is
our near neighbor. The postmaster looked relieved to find owners for
his surplus mail, and as he handed out the seventh letter with a look
of having finished his task, we said, “Is that all?” for one was
missing. “I think that will do for once,” he said. Two weeks later we
sent him a card and the missing document came safely to hand
down in Maine.
Fate knows we like to drive north, and led us onward. We followed
the Connecticut through the lovely valleys, crossing it and driving in
Vermont one afternoon, enjoying the new country until we had left
the White Mountains sixty miles behind us. We then turned directly
east, and ten miles along the Mohawk River brought us to the
entrance of Dixville Notch. We were bewildered by its beauty,
grander even than the Franconia Notch. We reached the Dix House,
the only habitation in that wild spot, at three o’clock, and as soon as
we could register our names we hastened away for Table Rock, a
narrow peak 800 feet above the meadow in front of the Dix House
and 3150 feet above the sea. It was the roughest climb we ever
attempted—almost perpendicular, and everything we took hold of
seemed to give way.
Once at the top we looked aghast at the narrow path, hardly four feet
wide, then with open arms rushed across and embraced the flagstaff
on Table Rock. It seemed as if the foundation was rocking beneath
us, but after a little time we went back and forth confidently. The air
was clear and the view very fine. Just below the summit, a tiny path,
with scarcely a foothold, led to an ice cave, and we refreshed
ourselves by looking into its cooling depths. When safely at the foot
again we cut some spruce walking sticks for souvenirs and stripped
the bark as we walked back to the Dix House.
It rained the next day and the mountains were visible through the
mist only now and then. We sketched Table Rock and the Notch
profile in instalments, reading and writing between times, and
enjoyed the very lonesomeness of the place. The clouds made way
for the moon at night, but we were disheartened next morning to find
they had settled down closer than ever, although the rain was over.
We could not wait another day, and packed up, hoping it would all
come out right, as many times before. Our wildest hopes were more
than realized when we entered the Notch, and found it clear ahead.
The clouds had driven through and settled about the meadows. It is
two miles through the Notch, and we walked nearly all the way.
Everything is moss-grown and marked with decay. The Notch has its
Old Man, its Flume and Cascades, and our exclamations burst forth
at every turn. Such mosses, such high, ragged bluffs, such babbling
brooks, and all so fresh after the rain! Was ever anything so
beautiful? Suddenly we found ourselves in open space again, and
driving along the Clear Stream meadows, we passed the little
enclosure where are the graves of the first two inhabitants of this
lonely region. Six or eight miles more brought us to Errol Dam,
where we left Charlie in good care, while we took a five hours’ trip on
a tiny mail steamer. We thought we were to be the only passengers,
but a young woman with an invalid brother, bound for the Rangeley
Lakes, came at the last moment. We steamed along the
Androscoggin River until within a half mile of Lake Umbagog, then
turned into the Magalloway. In course of time the little Parmachenee
pushed up against a bank and we were landed in the glaring sun, to
wait while the mail was carried two or three miles, and the two men
had dinner.
Fortunately we had a luncheon with us, or we should have had to
content ourselves with crackers and molasses, and “bean suasion”
with the brother and sister, at the only house in sight. We were back
at Errol Dam at four o’clock, and as we paid the four dollars for our
little trip the man said, “Too much, but we have to live out of you
folks.”
There is a stage route from Errol Dam to Bethel, Me., but we
preferred to follow the Androscoggin, so that eventful day finished off
with a fourteen-miles drive through the forest, over a road badly
washed, with the river rushing madly along, as if bent on its own
destruction, then taking breath for awhile and looking placid as the
Connecticut, but directly in a turmoil again as the rocks obstructed its
course. Just as the sun dropped, we emerged from the forest into a
broad plain, and four houses, widely separated, were in sight—the
first habitations we had seen since we left Errol Dam. We knew one
of them must be Chandler’s, where we had been directed for the
night. It was a lonesome place, and we did not feel quite comfortable
when we found ourselves in a room on the first floor, having four
windows and two doors, with no means of fastening any of them,
and a “transient” man in the room adjoining. I am not sure but the
Denver ladies’ “loft” and “boy” might not have seemed preferable,
only we had a revolver. Suffice it to say, our experience since we left
Dixville Notch in the morning had been sufficiently fatiguing to insure
rare sleep, in spite of open doors, barking dogs and heavy breathing
of the “transient,” and after a very palatable breakfast we took our
leave, grateful for such good quarters in such a benighted country.
We drove thirty miles that day, following the Androscoggin all the
way. Berlin Falls and the Alpine Cascades, along the way, are worth
going miles to see. We camped at noon between Berlin Falls and
Gorham and had a visit from five boys of various nationalities, some
with berries and some with empty pails. They sat down on the
ground with us and showed much interest in our operations,
jabbering in their several dialects. “I know what she’s doing: she’s
making them mountains,” one whispered. We looked quite like
traveling parties we have seen, with Charlie munching his oats, and
we asked them if they did not think we were gypsies. “No, indeed,
we never thought such a thing; we thought you were ladies from
Gorham.” With this compliment we drove on toward Gorham,
dropped our mail, and then turned directly eastward with the
Androscoggin, to enjoy for the first time the drive from Gorham to
Bethel, called the North Conway drive of that region. We spent a
night at Shelburne, almost as nice as Rumney, and another at
Bethel.
With much regret we now parted from the Androscoggin, and aimed
for the Saco at Fryeburg. The heat was so intense that we stopped,
ten miles sooner than we intended, at Lovell, driving the next day to
Hiram, and the next to Hollis, so full of delightful recollections of the
wonderful hospitality of stranger friends a few years ago. That
charmed circle is now broken by death and change, but a welcome
was ready for us from those who had heard about our visit there, and
we were at home at once. There were many summer guests, but a
cosy little attic room, full of quaint things, was left for us. The Saco
runs just before the house, and we took the little walk to the “Indian’s
Cellar” where the river rushes through the narrow gorge, and it
charmed us as much as before.
We not only felt at home in Hollis, but really at home, for all between
us and home was familiar, whatever route we might take. We eagerly
drove towards Saco, for that was our next mail point, and the letters
that came direct, and those that followed us around the country,
came to hand there. We talked over their newsy contents as we
drove miles on Old Orchard Beach that afternoon. We spent the
night at Bay View, and part of the next day, for the thunder showers
followed one after another so closely, we could not get an order to
the stable, and time for a dry start in between. We finally ordered
Charlie harnessed after one shower, and brought to the door after
the next. This plan worked too well, for after all our hasty packing off,
sides on, boot up, all ready for a deluge, it never rained a drop. We
called at the Saco post office again, and then took a road we thought
would take us by the house of a friend in Kennebunkport, but it
proved to be a lonely road with neither friends nor foes, and before
we knew it Kennebunkport was left one side, and we were well on
our way to Kennebunk. Despite our muddy and generally
demoralized condition, we called on friends there before going to the
hotel for the night. We drove thirty-seven miles the next day, through
Wells, York and Portsmouth, to Hampton. Ten miles the next morning
took us to Newburyport, where we stopped over Sunday for a visit.
All was well at home, so we thought we would still follow the ocean,
as this was a sort of water trip. (We had followed the Merrimac,
Pemigewasset, Connecticut, Mohawk, Androscoggin and Saco
rivers.) The old towns, Newbury, Rowley, Ipswich and Essex, are
always interesting, and Cape Ann is so delightful we could not resist
the temptation to “round” it again, and have another look at Pigeon
Cove, one of the loveliest places we have ever seen.
We drove on through Gloucester to Rockport on the Cape, and there
passed the night. We were hardly out of sight of the hotel in the
morning before it began to rain, and the thunder rumbled among the
rocks as if it would unearth them. We did not enjoy it, and just as it
reached a point unbearable, and the rain was coming in white
sheets, we saw a private stable and begged the privilege of driving
in. We were urged to go into the house, but declined, thinking the
shower would soon be over. For a full half hour we sat there,
rejoicing after each flash that we still lived, when a man appeared
and insisted we should go in, as the rain would last another hour,
and it would be better for our horse to have his dinner. We declined
dinner for ourselves, but the delicious milk the good wife brought us
was very refreshing, and if we had not accepted that boiled rice, with
big plums and real cream after their dinner, it would have been the
mistake of our lives.
Soon after noon the sun came out in full glory, and we left our kind
host and hostess with hearty thanks, the only return they would
accept. Everything was fresh after the shower, and the roads were
clean as floors. Full of enthusiasm we drove on and by some
mistake, before we knew it, Cape Ann was “rounded” without a
glimpse of the “pretty part” of Pigeon Cove. We had no time to
retrace our way, so left Pigeon Cove, and Annisquam friends, for the
next time, and hurried on through Gloucester, anticipating the
wonderfully beautiful drive of twenty miles before us. At Magnolia we
inquired for friends, and were directed to the cottage struck by
lightning that morning. The waves dashed angrily on the rocks at
Magnolia Point, and the surf at Manchester-by-the-Sea would have
held us entranced for hours. It was the time for driving and we met
all the fine turnouts and jaunty village carts as we went through
Beverly Farms, with the tangled slopes and bewitching little paths or
cultivated terraces with broad avenues, the stately entrances
assuring you that both paths and avenues lead to some princely
“cottage.”
A night at Beverly was followed by a crooked wandering through
Salem and Marblehead Neck, then on through Swampscott and
Lynn to Maplewood, where we spent an hour or two, then drove into
Boston. The city was draped in memory of General Grant. We drove
through the principal streets down town, then over Beacon Hill and
through Commonwealth avenue to the Mill-dam, winding up our
day’s drive of nearly forty miles by pulling over Corey Hill on our way
to Brighton, where we gave Charlie and ourselves a day’s rest. As
we were packing our traps into the phaeton for the last time on this
trip, for we usually drive the forty miles from Boston, or vicinity, to
Leominster in one day, our friend gave the phaeton a little shake and
said, “This will wear out some day; you must have driven two
thousand miles in it.” “Oh! yes,” we said, and referring to that
encyclopedic diary, exclaimed, “Why, we have driven over five
thousand miles!” He complimented its endurance, but we thought of
the “one hoss shay.”
It was a bright day, and the familiar roads seemed pleasant as we
drove along through Newton, Watertown and Stow, leaving
Lexington and Concord one side this time. We found a very pretty
spot for our last “camp,” and there we squared our accounts, named
our journey and pressed a bright bit of blackberry vine for the
sketchbook. The afternoon drive was even more familiar. We let
Charlie take his own time, and did not reach home until eight o’clock,
and finding everybody and everything just as we left them nearly five
weeks before, gradually all that had come between began to seem
like one long dream.
“Summer Gleanings” lies on our table, and we often take it up and
live over again the pleasant days recorded there in “timely jottings,”
crude little sketches, and pretty wayside flowers, and then we just
take a peep into the possibilities of the future by turning over a leaf
and reading—
“To one who has been long in city pent,”

and think what a nice beginning that will be for our fifteenth “annual.”
CHAPTER VII.
THE CATSKILLS, LAKE GEORGE AND GREEN MOUNTAINS.
In answer to the oft-repeated queries, “Did you have your journey
last summer?” and “Where did you go?” we reply, “Oh, yes; we had a
delightful journey. We were away four weeks and drove five hundred
and seventy-five miles. We went all through Berkshire, up the
Hudson, among the Catskills, then on to Albany, Saratoga, Lake
George, Lake Champlain and home over the Green Mountains.”
Lovers of brevity, people who have no time or fondness for details,
and those who care more for the remotest point reached than how
we got there, will stop here. Those of more leisurely inclination, who
would enjoy our zigzagging course, so senseless to the practical
mind, and would not object to walking up a hill, fording a stream or
camping by the wayside, we cordially invite to go with us through
some of the experiences of our fifteenth annual drive.
We were all ready to go on the Fourth of July, but Charlie does not
like the customary demonstrations of that day, and for several years
he has been permitted to celebrate his Independence in his stall.
There were three Fourth of Julys this year, and we waited patiently
until Independence was fully declared. All being quiet on Tuesday,
the sixth, we made ready, and at a fairly early hour in the morning
everything had found its own place in the phaeton and we were off.
As usual, we had made no plans, but our thoughts had traveled
Maineward, until at the last moment the Catskills were suggested.
The heat which often lingers about the Fourth was at its height, and
the thought of Princeton’s bracing air was so refreshing we gladly
started in that direction. We drove leisurely, taking in the pretty views
and gathering flowers, camped by the roadside two hours at noon,
and then on through Princeton to Rutland. We visited that pretty
town three years ago, when the Mauschopauge House was being
built, and we resolved then to spend a night some time under its
roof. It is finely located, commanding extensive views, and is in every
way a charming place to spend a scorching summer night. The cool
breezes blowing through our room, the glorious sunset, and the one
lone rocket, the very last of the Fourth, that shot up seemingly from a
dense forest, two miles away, and impressed us more than a whole
program of Boston pyrotechnics, calling forth the remark, “How much
more we enjoy a little than we do a great deal,” to which a lady,
kindly entertaining us, replied, “Oh, you are too young to have
learned that,” all these are fresh in our memory.
Just as we were leaving in the morning, our kindly lady introduced us
to a stately looking Boston lady, and told her of our habit of driving
about the country. “Oh,” she says, “that is charming. I do not like
woman’s rights, but this is only a bit of Boston independence.”
It was hot after we left breezy Rutland, and we drove the twelve
miles to North Brookfield very leisurely, taking our lunch before we
visited our friends there, and at once declaring our determination to
leave before supper, as it was too hot to be any trouble to anybody.
We sat in the house and we sat in the barn, but there was no comfort
anywhere. Late in the afternoon we resisted the protests, but not the
strawberries, and started off for the eleven miles to Ware. Our dread
of the heat was all wasted, for we had a very pleasant drive, but,
when we were once in that roasting, scorching hotel, we almost
wished we had not been so considerate of our friends.
Twenty-five miles driving the next day, stopping at the comfortable
hotel in Belchertown for dinner, brought us to Northampton. We
drove about its lovely streets an hour before going to the hotel, and
passed the evening with friends, who took us through Smith College
grounds by moonlight, on our way back to the hotel. The luxuries of
Northampton offset the discomforts of Ware, and we were filled with
the atmosphere which pervades the country all about, through Mr.
Chadwick’s glowing descriptions, as we followed along the Mill River,
marking the traces of the disaster on our way to Williamsburg. Up,
up we went, until we found ourselves on the threshold of Mr.
Chadwick’s summer home, in Chesterfield. He took us out into the
field to show us the fine view, with a glimpse of old Greylock in the
distance. We were on the heights here, and went down hill for a
while, but it was not long before we were climbing again, and after
six miles of down and up we sought refuge for the night in
Worthington.
There was rain and a decided change in the weather that night, and
a fire was essential to comfort during the cheerless early morning
hours. We took the opportunity to rest Charlie and write letters, and
the ten miles’ drive to Hinsdale in the afternoon was quite pleasant. It
was refreshing for a change to be chilly, rather than hot and dusty. At
Peru, six miles from Worthington, we reached the point where the
waters divide between the Connecticut and the Housatonic.
The night at Hinsdale was without special interest, but the drive from
there to Stockbridge will never be forgotten. Could it be that only two
days before we were dissolving with the heat, and now we needed
our warmest wraps. The dust was laid, all Nature fresh, Charlie was
at his best, and away we sped towards the lovely Berkshire region,
with its fine roads, beautiful residences, cultivated estates and the
superb views along the valley of the Housatonic, in the grand old
towns of Pittsfield, Lenox, Lee and Stockbridge. Mr. Plumb, the well-
known proprietor of the quaint old inn in Stockbridge, remembered
our visit there eleven years ago, and asked us if we found our way to
New York that time. He said he remembered telling us if we had
found our way so far, we should find no difficulty in crossing the
State line. Somehow, we were afraid of the New York State line then,
but we have so far overcome it, that, after we crossed this year, we
felt so much at home that the revolver was packed away a whole
day, for the first time since we have carried it.
Any Berkshire book will tell you all about Mr. Plumb’s inn, the
Sedgwick burial place, Jonathan Edwards and all the rest, and we
will go on, leaving enough to talk hours about. We cannot go through
Great Barrington without lingering a bit, however, giving a thought to
Bryant and the lovely poems he wrote there, before we are diverted
by the wonderful doings of Mrs. Mark Hopkins. An imposing structure
puzzled us. “What is it?” we asked a man. “It is a mystery,” he said.
We afterward were told that it was designed for Mrs. Hopkins’s
private residence at present, but would be devoted to art some time
in the future. We cannot vouch for the latter statement, but we can
for the magnificence of the edifice, as well as for the church with its
wonderful Roosevelt organ and royal parsonage, largely due to Mrs.
Hopkins’s liberal hand. Many travel by private car, but Mrs. Hopkins
has a private railroad, and when she wishes to visit her San
Francisco home, her palace on wheels is ordered to her door, as
ordinary mortals call a cab.
Sheffield had even more attractions than Great Barrington and Mrs.
Hopkins, for there we got home letters. Next comes Salisbury, and
now we are in Connecticut. We spent the night at an attractive hotel
in Lake Village, and fancied we were at Lake Winnipiseogee, it was
so like Hotel Weirs. Perhaps you think we forgot we were going to
the Catskills. Oh, no; but we had not been able to decide whether we
would go to West Point and drive up the Hudson, or to Albany and
drive down, so we concluded to “do” Berkshire until our course was
revealed. The turnpike to Poughkeepsie was suggested, and as we
had reached the southern limit of the so-called Berkshire region, it
met our favor, and we went to Sharon, then crossed the New York
State line, which is no more formidable than visible. Still there was a
difference. It seemed as if we were among foreigners, but the
courteous answers to inquiries and manifest kindly feeling won us at
once.
Turnpikes are too public for a wayside camp, and as there was no
hotel at hand, and Charlie must have rest, we asked permission of a
farmer to drive into a little cosy corner where we could all be very
comfortable. He would leave his dinner, although we protested, and
helped unharness Charlie, then he brought us milk and luscious
cherries, and when dinner was over, his wife came and invited
Charlie to eat some of the nice grass in her front yard. We led him to
his feast, and had a very pleasant chat with her, while he reveled in
New York hospitality. This was in Armenia. From there we drove over
the mountain to Washington Hollow, where we had a comfortable
night in a spacious, old-fashioned, homelike hotel. The twelve miles
to Poughkeepsie were very pleasant, and after we had nearly
shaken our lives out over the rough pavement in search of a
guidebook of the Catskills, we were ready for dinner and a two-
hours’ rest at a hotel. The afternoon drive of seventeen miles to
Rhinebeck on the old post road from New York to Albany was fine.
This was our first drive along the Hudson; but were it not for the
occasional glimpses of the farther shore through the wooded
grounds, we might have fancied ourselves driving through Beverly-
Farms-by-the-Sea. The stately entrances and lodges of these grand
old estates, with their shaded drives, towards the turrets and towers
we could see in the distance, looked almost familiar to us.
It rained very hard during the night at Rhinebeck and until ten o’clock
in the morning. While waiting for the final shower, we discussed our
route for the day, and somehow inclination got the better of wisdom,
and we left the old post road for one which we were told would take
us near the river. When shall we learn that river roads are rarely near
the river? We hope we learned it for life that day, for repentance set
in early, and has not ceased yet, because of our compassion for
Charlie.
The roads grew heavier every hour, and the twenty-six miles seemed
endless. We scarcely saw the river, and the outline of the Catskills
was all there was to divert us. We will touch as briefly as possible on
the dinner at Tivoli. “Driving up the Hudson must be charming,” our
friends wrote us with envy, but we forgot its charms when we were
placed at the table which the last members of the family were just
leaving, and the “boiled dish” was served. We were near the river,
however, for which we had sacrificed comfort for the day. We
survived the ordeal, smothering our smiles at the misery our folly had
brought us, and with renewed avowals that we would never be
enticed from a straightforward course by a river road again, we went
on our wretched way. Thunder clouds gathered and broke over the
Catskills, but the grumbling thunder was all that crossed the river to
us. The fact that somehow the river was to be crossed, and exactly
how we knew not, did not make us any happier. You may remember
Charlie is particular about ferries.
Is there no end to this dragging through the mud, we thought, as the
showers threatened, the night came on and no one was near to tell
us whether we were right or wrong, when we came to turn after turn
in the road. We were about lost in mud and despair, when we heard
a steam whistle, and came suddenly upon express and freight trains,
a railway station and ferryboat landing all in a huddle. Charlie’s ears
were up and he needed all our attention. We drove as near as he
was willing to go, then went to inquire the next step. No old scows
this time, happily, but a regular ferryboat, and the ferryman has a
way of whispering confidentially to timid horses which wins them at
once, so we were soon safely landed into the darkness and rain on
the other side. We spent the night in Catskill Village, and gave the
evening up to study of the ins and outs of the Catskills. The heavy
rain all night and half the morning prepared more mud for us, and we
were five hours driving twelve miles. The wheels were one solid
mass of clay mud, and we amused ourselves watching it as it
reluctantly rolled off.
We took directions for the old Catskill Mountain House, but, luckily
for Charlie, we guessed wrong at some turn where there was no
guide-board, or place to inquire, and brought up at the Sunny Slope
House at the foot of the mountain instead of at the top. We walked
two miles after supper and were tempted to stay over a day and walk
up the four-mile path to the famous Kaaterskill House, but it was a
beautiful day to go through Kaaterskill Clove, and it seemed best to
make sure of it. It was up hill about four miles, and as interesting as
Franconia and Dixville notches, with its Fawn’s Leap, Profile, Grotto,
Cascades and superb views. All this we should have missed if we
had gone over the mountain. We dined at Tannersville and fancied
we were in Jerusalem, for every hotel in the place was full of Jews.
The afternoon drive along the valley was very restful, after the
morning’s rough climb.
We were now in a country entirely new to us, and we little dreamed
that the Schoharie Kill or Creek driving would eclipse the Hudson.
We had at last found a river road which followed the river. The shore
scenery was simply exquisite. Miles of hills—mountains we should
call them—with cultivated grain fields even to the summit. Surely we
had never seen anything more lovely. The roads were not like the
post road on the Hudson; indeed, they were the worst roads we ever
encountered. Annual overflows undo the repairs which are rarely
made, and in many places the highway is simply the bed which the
creek has deserted. At home we improve roads by clearing the
stones from them, but there they improve them by dumping a
cartload of stones into them. We learned this fact by hearing an
enterprising citizen declare he would do it himself, if the town
authorities did not attend to their duty, and we can testify to the truth
of it, having been over the roads.
Our hotel experiences were new, too. We spent one night at
Lexington, and when Charlie was brought to the door and all was
ready for our departure we noticed something wrong about the
harness. Investigation proved that things were decidedly mixed at
the stable, and probably a part of Charlie’s new harness had gone to
Hunter, ten miles back, after the skating rink frolic of the night before.
We had suspected our choice of hotels for that night was not a
happy one, but the landlord did his best. He despatched a man to
Hunter, and took our bags back to our room, saying we should stay
till the next day at his expense. We resumed our reading and writing,
the stray harness returned that night, and early next morning we
shook the dust of Lexington from us and were on our way again.
We drove twenty-six miles that day over the crazy roads close by the
Schoharie all the way. We had been hemmed in for some time, with
the creek on one side and overhanging rocks on the other, when we
came suddenly to a ford, the first we had chanced to come across in
our travels, and we feared it might be more objectionable to Charlie
than a ferry, for he is really afraid of water. Only a few rods to the
right was a leaping, foaming cascade seventy-five or one hundred
feet high, which was a real terror to him, but he seemed to take in
the situation and to see at once, as we did, that escape or retreat
was impossible and the stream must be crossed. Oh, how we
dreaded it! but we drew up the reins with a cheering word to him and
in he plunged, pulling steadily through in spite of his fright. “Well, that
is over, what next?” we wondered.
We wanted to drive to Middlebury for the night, but a fatherly old
man we saw on the road said, “I wouldn’t drive eight miles more
tonight if I were you; it will make it late, and you better stop at
Breakabean.” We asked the meaning of the unique name and were
told it signified rushes, but we saw none. Things were rushing,
however, at the speck of a hotel, which was undergoing general
repairs and cleaning. The cabinet organ was in the middle of the
sitting-room and everything socially clustered around it. Out of two
little rooms up stairs we managed to get things convenient. To be
sure we had to pin up a shawl for a screen in our dressing-room, and
a few such little things, but we assured our hostess we could be
comfortable and should not be annoyed by the brass band of native
talent which would practise in the little dancing-hall close by our
rooms. When we went down to supper all was peaceful; the organ
had retired to its corner and things were “picked up” generally.
There were two ways we could take the next day, but to avoid the
mountain we were strongly advised to take the ford. We objected,
but yielded at last, being assured it was by far our best course. If it
was the best we are heartily glad we took it, and we got through the
morning safely, but we are never going there again. We reached the
ford in time, but had we not known it was a ford by directions given
and unmistakable signs, we should as soon have thought of driving
into the sea. The water was high, current strong—how deep we
knew not—and it was quite a distance across. Charlie was sensible
as before. We tucked our wraps in close, for where roads are made
of rocks you cannot expect a smooth-running ford, and in we
plunged again. Directly the water was over the hubs, and we felt as if
it would reach the carriage top before we could get across. We held
our breath in the spot where the current was strongest, but Charlie
pulled steadily and all went well.
We understood our course would be level after the ford. The man
must have forgotten the tow-path. From the ford we went right up on
to the side of a cliff, and for a mile or more we were on the narrowest
road we ever drove on, with the cliff fifty to one hundred feet straight
up on our left, and a hundred feet down on our right was the river, or
Schoharie Creek, with nothing to hinder our being there at short
notice, not even a stick for protection. When we got to a rational road
we inquired if we had been right, and were told “Yes, if you came by
the tow-path; you would have had to ford three times if you had kept
the valley.”
We told you at the outset that the Schoharie Valley is very beautiful.
It lies now like a picture in our memory, and despite rocks, fords and
tow-paths, we were very reluctant to leave it, but we were aiming for
Saratoga, and at Schoharie we were advised to go by the way of
Albany. It was the week of the bi-centennial celebration, and nothing
but Albany was thought of, so we fell in with the multitude, and with a
last look at Schoharie, turned east. The country was dull by contrast
for a while, but became more interesting as we drew nearer the
Hudson. We spent the night at Knowersville, and after everybody
else had boarded the crowded excursion train to the Capital we
leisurely started off via the plank road. Every grocer’s wagon or coal
cart we met had a bit of ribbon, if no more, in honor of the occasion;
and miles before we reached the city, strips of bunting adorned the
humble dwellings. The city itself was one blaze of beauty. The
orange, generously mixed with the red, white and blue, made the
general effect extremely brilliant. We drove through all the principal
streets and parks, dodging the processions—which were endless—
with their bands and gay paraphernalia, to say nothing of the “trade”
equipages, which suggested that all the business of Albany was
turned into the streets. We went all over the Capitol building and had
a fine view of the surrounding country from its upper rooms; then,
feeling we had “done” the bi-centennial to our satisfaction, we drove
nine miles up the Hudson to Cohoes for the night. When the porter
brought our bags in, he said, with evident delight, “He’s given you
the best rooms in the house,” and they were very nice; but luxuries
are not always comforts, and we have not forgotten sitting bolt
upright on the top of a marble table, with our book held high, in order
to get near enough to the gaslight to read.
Everybody we saw the next day was dressed up and bound for
Albany, for the President was to be there, but we were impatient for
our letters at Saratoga and went on. The twenty-five miles was easily
accomplished, and we found a large mail. In the evening we strolled
about, enjoyed the fireworks in Congress Park, and talked over our
plans for the next day. We had seen all the attractions about
Saratoga in previous visits, except Mt. McGregor. We had thought to
let Charlie rest, and go by rail, but were told we could drive up
without the least difficulty, and that it was right on our way to Glen’s
Falls. This seemed our best course, and we tried it, only to find,
when too late, that the road had been neglected since the railroad
was built, and was in a very rough condition. One led Charlie up and
down the mountain, and the other walked behind to pick up any bags
or wraps which might be jolted out on the way. The view from the
hotel and the Grant Cottage is very pretty, and if we had been free
from encumbrance, we should have enjoyed the walk up and down
very much. As it was, we could only laugh at ourselves and say,
“Poor Charlie!” We had been to Mt. McGregor, however, and that is
something, and it chanced to be the anniversary of General Grant’s
death.
We spent the night at Glen’s Falls, and tried in vain to find some one
who could tell us how to go home over the Green Mountains. We
knew the way from Lake Champlain, having driven up that way
several years ago, and finally concluded the longest way round
might be the pleasantest way home. We had been to Lake George,
and that was one reason we wanted to go again; so off we skipped
over the nine miles’ plank road, and sat for two hours on the shore in
front of the Fort William Henry House writing letters, which ought to
have been inspired, for we dipped our pens in the waters of the
beautiful lake. When we went to the stable for Charlie, we found an
old man who knew all about the Green Mountains, and if we had
seen him at Glen’s Falls we should have been on our direct way
home. Our last plan was too pleasant to repent of now, and we took
directions towards Lake Champlain. We had to retrace our way on
the plank road several miles, then go across country to Fort Ann, a
distance of sixteen miles. It is perplexing when you leave the main
roads, there are so many ways of going across, and no two people
direct you the same, which makes you sure the road you did not take
would have been better.
At Fort Ann we had comforts without luxuries, in the homeliest little
old-fashioned hotel, and stayed until the next afternoon to give
Charlie a rest, then drove twelve miles to Whitehall, where we had a
good-looking hotel and no comforts. There were things enough, but
they needed the touch of a woman’s hand. It must have been a man
who hung the looking-glass behind the bed. We rearranged,
however, and borrowed a table and chair from an open room near
by, and got along very well. These were trifles compared with the
pouring rain, which was making mud out of the clayey soil which the
Catskills could hardly compete with. We almost repented, but would
not turn back when only fourteen miles were between us and friends.
We think the men who held a consultation as to our best way to
Benson must have conspired against us, or they never would have
sent us by the Bay road. The rain ceased, but the mud, the slippery
hills and the heathenish roads every way! We turned and twisted,
stopped at every farmer’s door to ask if we could be right, and more
than once got the most discouraging of all answers, “Yes, you _can_
go that way.” The spinning of a top seems as near straight as that
drive did. I know we could not do it again, and I am surer yet we shall
not try.
When, at last, we struck the stage road, things seemed more
rational, and Charlie’s ears became very expressive. As we drove
into Benson he tore along and nearly leaped a ditch in his haste to
turn into our friend’s stable, where Cousin Charlie fed him so lavishly
with oats seven years ago. No one seemed to know exactly how we
got there, but our welcome was none the less hearty.
Now we were all right and needed no directions, for from this point
our way over the Green Mountains was familiar, and after a short
visit we turned towards home, anticipating every bit of the one
hundred and fifty miles’ drive. At Fairhaven we lunched with another
cousin while Charlie rested, and then had a most charming drive to
Rutland. We now follow the line of the Central Vermont and Cheshire
Railroad quite closely all the way to Fitchburg; but, fine as the
scenery is by rail, one gets hardly a hint of its beauty by the carriage
road. We rode seven miles on the steps of a car when returning from
Saratoga later in the season, hoping for a glimpse, at least, of the
beautiful gap between Ludlow and Chester, which compares
favorably with Dixville Notch or Kaaterskill Clove, but a good coating
of dust and cinders was the only reward. For more than a mile the
carriage road winds through the gorge, the mountains high and very
close on either side, and apparently without an opening.

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