Chapter 12 - Tributuaries
East Canada Creek
East Canada Creek starts in the southern Adirondacks
on such mountain peaks as Windfall, West Notch, East Notch, Big Alderbed,
Sugarbush and Gold Mine Hill. Mountain rivulets join to form the West Branch,
Gold Mine Stream, and feed ponds like Franks and Ferris. They all come
together near the obscure mountain “homestead” of Powley Place.
For all practical purposes
the East Canada starts at the Powley Place Bridge, and flows south into
the wilderness, picking up the waters of Black Cat Outlet, Limestone Creek,
Brandy Brook, North Creek and Stony Brook. Except for a few brushes with
backcountry roads, it doesn’t see civilization for around 13 miles when
it flows under Route 29 and through the village of Stratford. At 16 miles
it passes through the hamlet of Emmonsburg, and picks up the waters of
Sprite Creek at 19 miles and Spruce Creek at 22 miles.
By
the time East Canada Creek reaches the village of Dolgeville at 23 miles
it’s a formidable stream, especially during the spring runoff. It was here
that a bridge was built on the 1803 State Road. For many years the
bridge and the village were called Brockett’s Bridge. But, after Alfred
Dolge turned this tiny farming community, built around a few water-powered
mills, into an industrial complex in the 1880s, the “town folk” changed
the name to Dolgeville. Today most of the industries are gone, but magnificent
limestone factory buildings and the Dolge Mansion overlook East Canada
Creek and attest to past glories.
The creek cascades over a milldam and some natural waterfalls right in the village and then passes into a gorge where a dam and powerhouse turn waterpower into electricity. At the lower end of the gorge, at 25.5 miles, the East Canada becomes Keyser Lake. It’s only a mile or so to the lower end of the lake and the dam at Ingham Mills where there is another powerhouse.
The waters rushing from the Ingham Mills powerhouse slow to a crawl at 28 miles when they reach the upper reaches of Beardslee (or East Canada) Lake. It’s a mile and a half to the Beardslee Dam. Downstream from the dam are the old power dam, Beardslee Falls, the site of the 1800s Beardslee City and another powerhouse. Soon after, East Canada Creek crosses under old Route 5, new Route 5 and a railroad bridge before entering the Mohawk River at 32 miles.
East Canada Creek was so named because it was the eastern boundary to Sir William Johnson's 90,000-acre Royal Grant. Sir William bought the lands from the Mohawk Indians in 1760, however, the King of England didn't approve possession until 1769 when it was officially given the Royal Seal, and thenceforth called the Royal Grant or Kingsland.
Sir William died soon after, leaving his lands between East Canada and West Canada creeks to his large family. The Johnsons subsequently forfeited all their property to the State of New York because they fought on the "wrong" side during the Revolutionary War. Most of the Royal Grant lands were sold in "allotments" at the end of the war to New Englanders during the "Yankee Invasion" in the late 1780s.
Beardslee Falls on East Canada Creek
In the early years of settlement, sawmills and gristmills
were built on almost every tributary of the Mohawk River. On some of these
streams a series of waterfalls offered such ideal conditions that a variety
of mills were built at the same location. Villages grew up around these
mills. Some survive today, but most passed out of existence when the mills
could no longer compete with larger mills that were closer to sources of
transportation.
Such was the case of Beardslee City on East Canada
Creek.
During the spring runoff sitting below Beardslee Falls is an impossibility.
However, low water periods provide an excellent opportunity to explore
the gorge, take a break and catch up on taking notes.
John Beardslee came to the Mohawk Valley from Connecticut soon after the Revolutionary War. His engineering and mechanical skills were put to good use by Judge White at his settlement at Whitestown in 1787. Beardslee was part owner of these Whitestown mills for a number of years and directed the construction of mills and bridges up and down the valley before he finally settled near a series of waterfalls on the lower end of East Canada Creek Here, approximately a mile from the mouth of the stream, he built a number of water-powered mills, creating the nucleus for a village. Beardslee City prospered for more than 20 years. However, when larger more productive mills were built on the Mohawk River at Little Falls and the Erie Canal was completed in 1825, the Beardslee Mills closed down and the village slipped into obscurity.
The Beardslee name and influence in the area did not, however, slip into obscurity.
John’s son Augustus graduated from Union College,
became a lawyer, a judge, a New York State legislator . . . and invested
in the New York Central Railroad. In 1860 he built a grand stone mansion---patterned
after an Irish Castle---on the family farm just west of East Canada Creek.
Augustus's son Guy Roosevelt Beardslee was born
in 1858, graduated from West Point and served in the West during a period
of Indian uprisings in the 1880s. After a short stint in the Army, he returned
to manage the family's estate. In 1898 he financed the construction of
one of the first electrical power stations in upstate New York at the waterfalls
where his grandfather had built his mills a hundred years earlier.
Water from a dam built above the falls, and run
through a raceway to a station below the falls, turned generators that
provided power for the Beardslee Farm, the nearby village of St. Johnsville
and other customers in the area. In the early 1900s, the power plant was
sold to the Adirondack Power and Light Co. Ownership changed and the power
plant upgraded a number of times, before it was acquired by the Niagara
Mohawk Power Corporation. Recently all of NiMos power plants in the Mohawk
Valley were purchased by ???
Today the Beardslee home is a popular area restaurant
called Beardslee Castle.
Discovery: East Canada Creek and Beardslee Falls:
August 3, 2001, Cloudy, 75 degrees
It was 9 a.m. when we parked the Jeep about a half-mile up the road
that runs along the west side of East Canada Creek and started wading upstream.
The lower end of a large shale pool produced two small bass. Although
we were only a few feet from the road, the cedar, sycamore, oak and maple
trees that lined the river made it seem like a wilderness stream.
The East Canada in this area is mostly shale bottom, providing
little cover for fish. In areas where there are deposits of glacial Adirondack
rock and gravel, and the water is deep enough, bass are abundant as Denny
discovered when he fished two such "bars" in the middle of a long flat
run. He caught a half dozen smallmouths off those fish havens.
I left Denny to enjoy his bonanza fishing and continued
upstream, arriving at the powerhouse at 10:10. In the fast water below
the powerhouse outlet I caught three small bass. In the log-infested slack
water to the right of the outlet pool, I caught a rock bass and saw a number
of other fish.
While waiting for Denny to catch up, I studied the
interesting rock formations across from the power plant. Large outcrops
of layered sedimentary rock---below and above the water---are standing
on end. It must have taken a tremendous force of nature to move such large
sections of rock.
Denny crossed the top of this ancient water outlet to get around
a deep plunge pool.
When Denny caught up, he cast a gold lure into the
fast water above the power plant and caught a small brown trout. From then
on our interest in fishing was replaced by the complete fascination of
"discovering" beautiful waterfalls, plunge pools, big potholes, and ancient
stone walls, peers, raceways and dam. Much of the old Beardslee power system
and perhaps some remnants of the old mills are still prominent. The dam
immediately above the falls is no longer in use, but further upstream is
a concrete dam that provides the water for today's power plant.
There wasn't much water coming over the falls, so
we were able to crisscross the stream, climbing up the sides of waterfalls,
and walking around potholes and plunge pools until we reached the abandoned
dam. With the upstream power dam in sight, we hiked back down the gorge
to the powerhouse, followed the road to the car and were loading our gear
at 12 noon. Except at the entrance to the powerhouse, there were no posted
signs in the gorge. In this day and age that's unusual, especially
for a place as unique as Beardslee Falls.
Discovery: Beardslee Lake - Round and Round We GoMay 7, 2002 70 degrees, Cloudy
Power companies ofttimes mess up the environment by daming streams, covering up natural wonders, ruining good trout water and then restricting access to the area. The power dam that created Beardslee Lake at the lower end of East Canada Creek is an exception. Natural wonders are more accessible and visible because of the power dam (see above) and fishing in the lake is better than ever.
Access to the lake is limited to fishermen only.
A cooperative agreement between the power company and the NYS Department of Environmental Conservation provides a yearly trout stocking program and restricts access to the lake to fishermen. In addition to the stocked trout there is a substantial population of smallmouth bass.
Ron and I launched the canoe at the cartop access site on the east shore at 10:15 a.m. The only other fishers on the lake was a man in an aluminum boat and a half-dozen cormorants. These large black waterbirds were not a welcome sight. They have increased in population on the Great Lakes in recent years and consume thousands of pounds of fish. Their specialty is preying on recently stocked fish. A half-dozen cormorants on a small lake can put a big dent in the fish population. As we paddled along the eastern shoreline, the cormorants ran off the water and flew up the lake.
This point on the east side of the lake provides fishermen's access to shore fishing and a hand launch for cartop boats and canoes.
Our plan was to cast to points and stream outlets, fish the river where it comes into the lake and then fish the west shore to the dam. Our spoons, spinners, jigs and plugs produced nothing on the first leg of the trip. Two fly fishermen were working the fast water at the upper end of the lake. Although I had heard this water was productive when trout came out of the lake to feed, none of us caught fish. The fly fishermen had a cooler with them, so it looked like they were prepared to stay until the fish got hungry.
As we paddled the canoe in and out of muddy bays, carp stirred up clouds of mud and created wakes ahead of the canoe. Part way down the west shore we discovered rock ledges above and below the water. We each caught a smallmouth bass off these ledges.In addition to the cormorants we saw mallards, Canada geese, a great blue heron, sea gulls, sand pipers and a couple of soaring turkey vultures. The only building on the lake was a small camp in a stand of pines on the west shore. Almost opposite the launch site, we discovered a rock wall that extended into the lake. I suspect it was a fencerow that ran all the way to the old riverbank. Structure! Ron regretted leaving his fish finder at home. We gave it a try with jigs, but no takers.
The gap between the old and new dams is filled with a "logjam" of flat rocks.
On the way to the dam we stopped to talk to the fellow in the aluminum boat. He was fishing with minnows suspended below bobbers and had taken a few trout early that morning. He was from Fort Plain and fishes the lake often for trout and bass. He made special note of the topwater action during the summer for both largemouth and smallmouth bass. When we headed for the dam, he cranked up his electric motor and headed for the launch.
This old dam provided the water to power the first power plant in Central New York.
After casting to the rocky shoreline, we beached the canoe and walked along the top of the dam to the spillway. There was no water coming over the spillway, so we climbed to the bottom of the dam and over rocks to the remnants of the old Beardslee Dam. Ron was amazed at the piles of large flat rocks between the new and old dams. Apparently the flat rocks that broke off from the outcrops below the present dam couldn't get past the old dam, so the river just piled them up like a "logjam" of rocks. From the top of the old dam we could see the area that Denny and I had explored on an earlier trip. After taking a few photographs and noting fish rising in a downstream pool, we headed back.
While we paddled towards the launch, a couple of anglers loaded fishing gear into a canoe and headed towards the upper end of the lake. No doubt to get in on the evening action. We had no interest in joining them, so we took down rods and packed lures. When the canoe was out of site, Ron noted surface action off the point just south of the launch. Fish were feeding in the slick water downwind from the point. It didn't take us long to rig up and start casting. In 15 minutes we caught and lost several trout and Ron caught a smallmouth bass.
We had paddled around the entire lake to find fish right where we started.
(Note: Beardslee Lake has also been called East Canada Lake. The power station, owned by Niagara Mohawk for many years, was recently purchased by Orion, and is now being purchased by another company.)
June 10, 2002, Sunny, 70 degrees
Have you ever had one of those days when there were so many obstacles in the road that any sane person would turn back, yet you stubbornly continue until something went right. This was such a day.
I was putting the compressor away when Denny drove
into the yard at 7:15. I had just filled an almost-flat tire on the Jeep.
We checked the tire for nails and found none, so with a spare in the "boot"
we drove to Dolgeville on East Canada Creek. Over breakfast at the Cafe
on Main Street we discussed our plans for the day.
Plan one: launch the canoe on Kyser Lake and then
explore and fish the lake. If that proved impossible, plan two: drive into
the mountains and canoe a stretch of flatwater on the upper East Canada.
Kyser Lake is located on East Canada Creek between
Dolgeville and Beardslee Lake. Like Beardslee it's a power company reservoir
that borders on parcels of private land. Unlike Beardslee there is no public
access. There are, however, a few dirt roads leading to clusters of shoreline
camps. I hoped we could gain access from one of those roads.
The first road we drove to on the east side of the
lake was blocked by a locked gate, and a man who was unlocking it told
us he thought all the roads to the lake were gated. At the power company
compound near the dam in Ingham Mills we were told we couldn't access the
lake from power company land. On the west side of the lake, the camps across
from a large cemetery blocked all access and a road at the upper
end was blocked by a herd of cows. Obstacles at every turn.
Plan two. Drive to Stratford and follow a mountain
road north until it crosses a stretch of flatwater. Friends had told me
this was the access point to a mile stretch of East Canada Creek that meanders
through the most beautiful country in the Adirondacks, and it's so
flat it can be canoed in both directions, providing two miles of easy paddling.
What could go wrong?
For
starters I missed the turn at Dolgeville. When I got back on track and
drove through Stratford we discovered that the road we wanted to take had
at least three different names. None of them were the name indicated on
the road map. With the help of a fellow in a pickup truck who took pity
on our confusion, we headed north on a paved road that turned into a dirt
road that turned into a "Closed Road." Despite the sign we continued
until we discovered several trees that had been recently removed from the
road. Perhaps, we thought, the road was closed for good reason, so we returned
to Stratford, drove east to Route 10 and north towards Piseco Lake to the
other end of the mountain road.
The north end was freshly graded, so we
drove eight miles through the mountains and arrived at the East Canada
Creek Bridge without incident. Two men were fishing off the bridge. Black
flies swarmed around their heads. The fish weren't biting but the black
flies were, so the fishermen left.
Another fisherman stopped to chat. He had just returned
from a hike into a remote pond where he caught several small brookies.
He told us he had canoed this stretch of the creek often and that we would
know when we were at the end of the flatwater when we saw a "field of boulders."
He also said there were brook trout in the creek and if we didn't have
worms to give Phoebes a try. That perked Denny up. Until then all I had
promised was easy canoeing through a wilderness marsh.
After
more than four hours of driving we finally put the canoe in the water at
12 noon. Not the best time to catch fish or see wildlife. And, even with
a liberal coating of insect repellent we were plagued by black flies.
Just out of sight of the bridge we left the sights and sounds of civilization
and entered a world of wild beauty. Here East Canada Creek meanders through
a wetland forest of spruce and balsam, accentuated by a few white pine
and hardwoods. For most of its length, alders and patches of grass grow
streamside. The water is crystal clear and the stream bottom is covered
with sand and gravel with occasional deposits of mud and stretches of boulders.
Line diameter made all the difference in the crystal clear water of upper East Canda Creek.
As I paddled the canoe, Denny cast a gold Phoebe
to shaded areas, fallen trees and boulders. When we approached a bend in
the creek where a small pile of trees were lying in the water and a thin
layer of scum had collected out of the current, I couldn't resist just
one cast over Denny's shoulder. On the second crank of the spinning reel
a fish took the gold spoon and splashed on the surface. It was a 9-inch
brook trout. Except for brilliant orange fins it was almost black.
Denny continued to cast the Phoebe without results.
When I had an opportunity, I flipped my Phoebe into scum lines at river
bends and near fallen trees and boulders. And I caught fish. A couple were
six inchers, one was 10-inches, and the biggest a foot-long beauty that
took the lure as it hit the water next to a midstream boulder. Denny caught
one small brookie and had a number of follows. The only difference in our
offering was his was at the end of 8-pound test monofilament and
mine was on 6-pound. In that crystal clear water line diameter made the
difference.
Beaver sign was everywhere: cuttings, slides and
two beaver dams. We had planned to stop along the shoreline to eat lunch,
but the black flies were so thick we ate in the canoe beside a beaver dam
where a breeze coming up the river kept the flies at bay. We had no problem
paddling the canoe over the beaver dams.
We discovered the "field of boulders" and the end
of the flatwater at 2 o'clock. The boulders formed short rapids and small
waterfalls on each side of an island. We couldn't resist fishing the downstream
pool, so we beached the canoe. Denny waded down one side of the island
and I took the other side. Several casts into the big deep pool produced
nothing, so we headed back.
When I met Denny at the upper end of the island
he was wringing out his clothes. He had slipped and fallen in the river,
filling his hip boots and soaking everything but his hair. The black flies
seemed to like him wet more than they did dry, so we didn't dilly-dally
on the way back.
With the wind at our back, the paddle upstream was
easy, even up and over the beaver dams. Despite the flies and Denny's dunking
we couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the area. One scene was especially
impressive. A row of towering spruce silhouetted against blue sky
looked like church steeples pointing to the heavens.
We paddled under the bridge and beached the canoe
at 3 o'clock. The only wild things we saw on the entire trip were brookies
and blackflies. We left the brookies in the river, but while the Jeep doors
were open the black flies hitched a ride. Not to worry, I'd get rid of
them as soon as we got to a paved road and could open all the windows.
We drove south on the mountain road and discovered
it was open all the way and we were only a couple of miles from the bridge
when we turned back earlier in the day. When the dirt turned to pavement,
I ran all the power windows down and let the wind take care of the black
flies. As I powered the windows up, I heard a loud crack behind me. "Denny",
I asked, "Did I just cut the end off a fishing rod?"
Indeed I did. When the window went down, the end
of the most expensive spinning rod I've ever owned---and didn't even use
that day---snapped out the window, and when the windows went up . . .
Was it was worth all the time, effort, obstacles,
black flies and an expensive fishing rod just to spend three hours canoeing
and catching brook trout in the Adirondack wilderness? You bet your bippee
it was.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk
Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Dolgeville , select New York, press
GO!
Use
margin arrows to follow East Canada Creek.
