In 1920s, New England, Island Park was the place to be.

This permanent carnival was perched on a spot of land in the middle of the Connecticut River,

right on the border between Brattleboro, Vermont and Hinsdale, New Hampshire.

And this place was like something out of a dream.

There was a dance hall and a big bandstand, an arcade complete with zinging ping-pong

machines and mutoscopes and automata that would dance for a coin. There was a baseball

diamond and a wrestling ring and a giant pavilion a flutter with bright silk flags. Whenever a big

act came through New England, it always stopped at Island Park. Miss America came to visit,

and even President William Howard Taft. The entire Barnum and Bailey Circus piled onto the island,

and children lined the banks to watch elephants drinking right out of the river.

Oh, and given that the island was technically owned by New Hampshire,

a wet state during prohibition, while Vermont was dry,

Vermonters loved to canoe out to Island Park, legally

party the night away, and then canoe dizzily home. In short, Island Park was pure magic.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end. In the winter of 1927, a great ice storm

came along. The river rose and demolished the carnival. Island Park,

once a glittering fantasy, was swallowed by the waters, and that's where its final remains

are today, a sunken carnival hidden beneath the current in a small New England town.

There is something endlessly enticing about buried lands, the marvel and horror

of an entire world blinking out in an instant, and the haunting subterranean ghosts that remain.

That's what draws us to the Titanic in Pompeii, and yes, Island Park. But of course, there is

no sunken wonder that has captured the imagination more

...