Chapter 12 - Tributuaries
Discovery: Calamity on Cayadutta Creek
My
introduction to the Cayadutta was a passage in a book on the Mohawk Valley
noting that George Chapin discovered the site of an ancient Indian village
while hiking up the creek in 1892.
Subsequent research indicated the village was occupied
by Mohawk Indians some 500 years ago, and that over the years archaeologists
and historians had visited it many times.
Much of Cayadutta Creek flows through wild
and beautiful woodland.
Historian, Jane Dieffenbacher and her husband, George
had visited the site 20 years ago and guided Gert and I for a brief visit
through muck and mosquitoes on a rainy day this past July. The extent of
our visit was to approach the site from the high ground and look down into
Cayadutta Valley. As we were leaving the area, a logger told us he had
uncovered some pottery shards and pieces of flint and placed them on a
log slab. We were welcome to take a few samples if we came back.
I wanted to "discover" the site and this tributary of the Mohawk the way
George Chapin did in 1892, so I returned on August 14, 2000 with longtime
friend Ron Kolodziej. I asked Ron to join me because he lives in the general
area, is a student of Indian artifacts and writes an outdoor column
for the Amsterdam Recorder.
We found pieces of pottery, worked flint and mussel shells.
Ron told me that for as long as he could remember,
Cayadutta Creek was called "Old Stinky" because of the outflow of
tanneries at Johnstown. Although a sewage treatment plant for Johnstown
and Gloversville had been constructed a number of years ago, Ron hadn't
heard of anyone taking fish from the stream, so he decided to discover
the creek with a camera. Like always, I brought along my ultralight spinning
rod and a few lures.
After Ron parked his Explorer near an upstream
bridge we returned downstream to begin the two-mile hike up the creek.
When we exited my Jeep near the Sammonsville Bridge, a basset hound and
golden retriever came out to greet us. It was 9:15 a.m., sunny and 70 degrees.
I waded up the creek between willows and box elders. Ron took the "high
road" on the left..
The creek bed in this area was mostly chips
of shale. I worked the shallow runs and pools with a gold Phoebe with no
results. A hen mallard jumped off the water, quacked a chorus of objections
to my presence and flew upstream, dodging overhanging willows. A
great blue heron pumped its huge wings skyward and disappeared over tree
tops.
As I approached a section of shale outcrops,
a mallard pretended injury, quacking and beating water with its wings.
When I came closer it took off, perhaps protecting a late brood hiding
in the weeds.
The streamside vegetation of goldenrod,
Joe Pye weed and "bamboo" weed was so high and so thick it was almost impossible
to walk through. Except in areas where the water was too deep to wade in
hip boots, I stayed in the creek. I was beginning to wonder if I'd
be able to locate Ron in all this cover.
It was 9:30 when I passed under some
huge willows and spooked a great blue heron that left with a squawk. A
clump of tiger lilies grew next to a big cotton wood with a huge fungus
at the bottom. A kingfisher scolded as it flew from a perch in some
streamside sumac. Sand collected at a wide bend in the creek and purple
loosestrife competed with other streamside vegetation.
At 10:15 I saw Ron walking along a forested
bank of birch and hemlock. He had crossed the creek We talked for a moment
and decided to meet at the Indian village site at the top of the
ridge.
This site, like others of the period, was
located on high ground at a sharp double bend, or open loop, overlooking
the creek. At each end of the loop was a gully. Nature had created a peninsula
of land jutting out into the valley. The ancient village was located on
this very defensible position; three sides on high ground. The open
end of the peninsula which led to village farmfields, was protected by
a log barricade or palisade. Of course that was hundreds of years
ago.
I continued upstream, through a stretch of
boulders, passing between wild apples and willows. Although the creek was
quite shallow, it was well shaded, so I had cast into practically every
pool and run without so much as a hit, so it was a big deal when I discovered
a deep pool and my lure stopped in mid-retrieve. I set the hook, felt weight
for a few seconds and retrieved the lure. A fish? Maybe.
Near a large island, a stream entered the
creek from a gully. According to my topo map, this gully led to the
village site. Perhaps this was the path that George Chapin had taken when
he made his discovery in the 1890s. It took about 10 minutes to climb up
the steep and slippery shale streambed. Relatively easy when no one was
throwing rocks, spears or shooting arrows.
I found Ron looking for mussel shells on the
forest floor where a log skidder had churned up the soil. Ron noted that
an abundance of mussel shells usually indicated an Indian village.
We found several shells and also located the loggers "stash" which consisted
of small pieces of pottery, worked flint and more shells. We took a couple
of each.
Nearby was a large boulder with a bowl-like
depression on top. Someone had suggested to the logger that this boulder
was used by Indians for grinding corn. Place corn in bowl and mash with
a stone pestle. Perhaps. The rock bowl seemed too rough to have had much
use, but a lot can happen in 500 years.
After photographing the artifacts, we explored
the site for about 20 minutes, trying to imagine what it was like when
several hundred people lived here in the middle of a vast wilderness.
It was 11 a.m. when we followed a logging
road down to the creek, noting the profusion of yellow touch-me-nots
growing on the cleared hillside.
Ron decided to follow me up the creek while
I fished ahead. We passed under some big cottonwoods and drooping willows,
startled two great blue herons and discovered outcrops of shale. I had
previously told Ron that what surprised me most about these discovery trips
was the surprises. At 12:20 we found our first surprise of the day, a series
of waterfalls.
While Ron photographed the first falls, I cast a
gold Phoebe into the plunge pool beneath.In quick succession I caught
and released a 13-inch and a 12-inch brook trout. Brook trout in Old Stinky!
Surprise.
The next falls was the highest, perhaps 10 feet. I waded to the opposite
side of the creek to cast into the plunge pool and caught an 11-inch brookie.
There were mill dams on just about every stream in the Mohawk Valley at
one time, and they were usually located at the highest falls. Cayadutta
Creek was no exception.
We found the remains of at least two mill sites
at this waterfalls. One was made of flat stone, no mortar, indicating late
1700s to early 1800s. The other was brick and mortar; late 1800s to early
1900s construction.
This was definitely an area frequented by the Indians
who lived in that ancient village. It was the furthest up feeding or spawning
fish could get on the Cayadutta. This wilderness stream was also the source
of another major source of food --- freshwater mussels.
The series of waterfalls we
discovered were a real surprise.
The creek bottom above the falls was like a
slate road, and it led to a small waterfalls with a deep plunge pool
where a trout as long as my forearm followed the Phoebe into shallow water
and hit it but didn't hook up. I couldn't tell if it was a brookie or a
brown.
After exploring the falls and mill sites and
taking photos of the brookies before I released them, Ron opted to
climb the ridge and follow it to the bridge. I continued wading up the
creek.
I made a couple of casts below a wooden log
dam without results and then climbed through the brush on the right side
of the dam. Just upstream, where the creek ran tight to a shale "wall",
creating a long pool, a small brown trout took my lure.
I tried to walk around another deep pool,
but the streamside vegetation was so thick I decided the better path was
atop a huge log that paralleled the stream. At the upper end of that log
was a root mass I couldn't get around. Reverse direction. Partway
back, I sat on the log, legs hanging a foot above water. When I dropped
off the log, I discovered the stream bottom was hard, water up to
my knees. No surprises here.
Halfway across, the water was over my knees
and running fast. The stream bottom was slick. Slate slick. I started sliding,
slowly at first, picking up speed as I got closer to the pool. Although
not overly concerned with getting hurt, I expected to get very wet. I started
laughing at my predicament; skiing down Cayadutta Creek, fishing rod in
hand, pack on my back. Several feet before reaching the pool, I discovered
a large boulder just under the water. I latched onto it with hand and foot.
Lucky!
It was 1:40 when I came to the sewage treatment
plant outflow. The water was too deep to wade, so I climbed over the staircase-like
overflow chute and continued upstream towards the bridgewhere Ron's car
was parked.
I was thinking: What a great day! Saw
wildlife, wildflowers and waterfalls, visited an archaeological
site, caught some nice fish and discovered a beautiful region of the Mohawk
Valley. And only a few hundred yards to go before I could rest, relax and
remove the hip boots. Just before passing under the treatment plant footbridge,
I fell flat on my face in midstream. I staggered to my feet, bifocals
gone, hip boots filled with water. Being so close to the car, I continued
upstream for another 50 yards and fell again.
At 2:15, I climbed the streambank next to
the bridge. Ron wasn't there. I emptied the hip boots, wrung out
socks and shirts and hung them on tree branches. Everything was wet except
for the back of my shirt collar and the day pack.
While waiting for Ron, I lay back and enjoyed
a snack from my pack. Drivers-by waved, some smiled. A half-hour later
I was still waiting for Ron. Traveling the high ground, he should have
been ahead of me. I had decided to flag down a motorist to get a ride back
to my car before contacting local officials to mount a search. When I walked
to the road, I saw two men standing near the entrance to the Sewage Treatment
Plant. One of them was Ron.
He had tried to climb up the ridge, but after
several encounters with jungle-like vegetation that he had to crawl through
or "throw" himself on, he returned to the creek. When
he came to the treatment plant he stopped to chat with workers.
On the way back to the Jeep we discussed our
adventure, and agreed it was something special . . . and full of
surprises.
I asked Ron if we came back if he'd
bring a fishing rod. He replied, "The next time I'm bringing a machete."
Cayadutta
Creek --- 200 Years of Pollution
Cayadutta Creek begins as a trickle in the hills some three miles north
of Gloversville. It flows southward for more than 17 miles to the Mohawk
River/Erie Canal, passing through the communities of Gloversville,
Johnstown, Sammonsville, Berryville and Fonda.
For more than 200 years it was one of the
most polluted streams in the Mohawk Valley. In addition to the raw sewage
of communities along the creek, tanneries at Gloversville and Johnstown
dumped tons of chemicals, hair and other waste into the creek
The first significant effort to clean up the
creek was in 1903 when farmer, Sampson Sammons sued the village of Gloversville
claiming that "Sewer filth, accumulating on a river bank, constitutes trespass."
Although there were other sources of pollution,
including "the city of Johnstown, along with several tanneries",
the court ruled: "that city's sewage disposal practices amounted
to a continuing trespass that substantially injured Mr. Sammons' property
rights. It issued an injunction, to take effect after one year, prohibiting
Gloversville from fouling Mr. Sammons' premises by discharging its sewage
into the creek."
For almost 70 years the only sewage treatment
on the creek was the plant at Gloversville.It wasn't until 1972 that
the cities of Gloversville and Johnstown completed the construction of
a new sewage treatment plant. Although this was a major improvement, area
residents still noted the gray color and the "stink" of the Cayadutta.
In 1986 and again in 1991 the treatment facilities
were upgraded to meet more rigid standards. Today the Gloversville-Johnstown
Joint Wastewater Treatment Facility is "designed to treat up to 13.8 mgd
(million gallons per day) of domestic sanitary sewage from the cities of
Gloversville and Johnstown as well as industrial wastewater from leather
tanning and finishing, glue manufacturing, textile and other major industries.
Peak treatment capacity is 30 mgd."
In 1996 the Cayadutta from its mouth to Johnstown
was reclassified from "D" to "C". Trout water.
