One year in the autumn season, the hair of Ubiwacha had turned gray. His gait became just a little less steady than before. A runner returning from a mission to the Mohawks brought news of the chief’s daughter, and where and how she was living.
Ubiwachi, a wise and thoughtful man, and reminded of the vision he had the night Utsayantha departed, a message he believed had come from the Great Spirit, sent a message bearer to the “White Chief.” The message told of the vision he had received, and assured that anger, hatred, and a desire for vengeance no longer burned within his heart. The fire of friendship for the “White Chief” and his daughter burned brightly in his lodge.
The message declared both of them welcome, asking them to return to his people and fear no evil. The message said the white men have already built their lodge by the Schoharie, and that a just and honorable temporary treaty keeps the peace between them.
Utsayantha, full of love, compassion and pity for her father, understood all of his weaknesses. She understood the fears he had of the wiles of the magician, Ungatoah. She longed to see her father again, and to have him see his grandson, believing their presence to bring cheer to his lonely life.
Her husband, hunter, trapper and “Great White Chief,” still desired that a bond of friendship between the whites and the Lenape be formed to last unbroken.
Utsayantha arrived with her husband and son in late fall. Her husband built a cabin at the side of the lake that now bears her name. In the spring, the white man tried to strengthen the temporary treaty between the Lenape and the whites on the Schoharie, and make it a more lasting one.
Ubiwacha, pleased to see his daughter at first, began more and more to seethe with anger, but kept it inside, outwardly appearing friendly. He continued to feel he had been betrayed and it ate at his soul, growing like a cancer.
Summer passed and autumn came. The son of Utsayantha and the white man was nineteen months old. One evening, Ubiwacha hid behind a tree. The white man sat outside his cabin making moccasins. Ubiwacha shot the white man in the heart with an arrow.
As she saw Ubiwacha standing in the shadows, she plead for mercy for his grandson. Ubiwacha walked away from the cabin toward the village without saying a word. Utsayantha held her son to her breast, sitting beside the body of her husband, wailing in her grief until her wailing was answered by an owl.
As the moon rose over the lake, two warriors sprang from behind her. They bound her and snatched her son from her arms. They took him to a waiting canoe. The mother struggled with her bonds until she was finally loose. Free at last, she went to the lakeshore, and saw the canoe glide towards the deepest part of the lake. The two warriors drowned her son while she stood watching, helpless to stop them. When the warriors returned, they left the canoe at the shore.
Near midnight, the lake was burnished with the silver of the moon. Utsayantha rose from beside the body of her husband and went to the canoe. She paddled out to the deepest water, where her son had been drowned. She stood in the canoe and paused as she looked towards the shore.
With hands raised, she gazed upward. A cloud floating on the gentle breeze began to hide the moon and as its shadow fell on the moonlit water, she plunged beneath it. She was now with her son.
During the night, two Mohicans had been watching her from concealment on instructions from her father. They found her body floating near the canoe.
All her life, Utsayantha had loved the lake. Her father had made for her a small birch bark canoe, with which she spent many hours exploring the lake. The majestic mountain in the background, she also admired and loved. She loved to climb the mountain and see the view from its heights. The chief kept warriors on the mountain, for anyone approaching their area for many miles could easily be seen and the village warned.
The next day, four trusted warriors carried her remains up the mountain following Ubiwacha as he led the way. There, far above the valley below them, they buried Utsayantha in a newly dug grave, in a secret place.
(Note: In 1862 a grave was discovered on the mountain that many believed to be the grave of Utsayantha. The actual identity of the person in the grave remains unproven to this day.)
Chief Ubiwacha ordered that the name of his daughter’s husband never be spoken. That is why his name is unknown today, and was unknown to Teunis in the 1760’s. We know only that the Mohawks called him the “Great White Chief.” It is believed the Lenape and Mohican did not call him that. Chief Ubiwachi, filled with anger, hate and vengeance, lost forever that which was to him, the most precious of all. His daughter and her love, Utsayantha, the Beautiful Spring.
Now you know the legend, as near the truth as can be deciphered, for which Lake Utsayantha and Mount Utsayantha derived their name. I cannot speak for others, but every time I drive by the lake, my eyes are pulled to the mountain and my heart feels a little twinge of sadness for the Indian maiden whose only crime was her love for a man and his son.