FrtHunterToAmsterdam

The five-mile stretch of the Mohawk River between Schoharie Creek and Amsterdam includes such historical gems as Fort Hunter, Schoharie Crossing, Fort Johnson . . . and an island where I once enjoyed the best smallmouth bass fishing of my life.

Schoharie Creek enters the Mohawk River at Fort Hunter (left). These rich bottomlands were farmed by the Mohawks for hundreds of years. The path of the old Erie Canal, the Aqueduct and the Schoharie Crossing Park and Boat Launch can be seen in this aerial photograph.

My original plans included an overnight stay and a small armada of friends who appreciate the unique history of the area, enjoy canoeing and love to catch fish. When almost everyone had to back out, and health problems put me in a feel-sorry-for-myself mood, I decided to cancel.

Enter Ron Gugnacki. He insisted we make the trip just to yank me out of my doldrums. Considering it was hot and muggy, and we wouldn't get on the river until late morning when the sun was high and the fish weren't biting, this was a real sacrifice. History, he can take or leave. Lousy fishing is another matter.
Ron and I live in the Utica area, so it took us awhile to set things up. By the time we parked his truck along Route 5, just outside the Lock 11 compound and drove back to the Schoharie Crossing Boat Launch, it was 10:15 a.m. Judging from the trailers in the parking lot, a few powerboats were on the river, and while I was parking the Jeep, a young woman in a bathing suit carried a kayak down to the water and paddled it across Schoharie Creek toward Fort Hunter.

Anglers fishing off the apron of the lock dam caught a couple of nice bass early in the morning.

Fort Hunter's history goes back hundreds of years. A Mohawk village called Tehandaloga was established here in 1710 and the Mohawks farmed the rich bottomlands on both sides of the Schoharie. In 1712 the British built a small fort here that they named Fort Hunter. A church was built here for the Mohawks in 1741 and named Queen Anne's Chapel in honor of the British Monarch. The fort was enlarged in 1755 to protect the Mohawks during the French & Indian War. This "lower castle" was abandoned in 1776 at the start of the Revolutionary War.

The view of the Mohawk village, fort, church and farmlands must have been an impressive sight from the hill opposite the mouth of Schoharie Creek. Today that hill (and a small village) is called Tribes Hill. Some consider it a reference to an Indian community. In actuality Tribes Hill is a corruption of Tripe's Hill, named after one of the original owners of the property.
Remnants of the church and fort were destroyed during the construction of the Erie Canal in the early 1800s. A stone aqueduct---the Schoharie Crossing---was built to carry canal waters over Schoharie Creek. Remnants of the aqueduct can be seen from the Schoharie Crossing Park and Boat Launch.

We re-launched the canoe along the rip rap below the Lock 12 dam.

Ron and I paddled up to the old aqueduct. While I maneuvered the canoe among the crumbling stone piers and along the east bank of the Schoharie, Ron cast a plastic jig. No takers. As we came around the bend into the Mohawk River, we were surprised to discover the young woman sitting in her kayak, backed into the shade of riverbank trees, reading a book. Her vantage-point provided a westerly breeze and view of the Mohawk. I wondered if she realized she was only a few steps from what was once a Mohawk village, a fort and one of the oldest churches in the valley. We exchanged greetings and Ron and I continued downstream toward Lock 12.

It was an easy carry around the south side of the lock dam. Two men sitting in folding lawn chairs were fishing off the concrete apron below the dam. They had caught a couple of big smallmouths early that morning, but when we talked to them at 11 o'clock they hadn't had a bite in over two hours. After we re-launched the canoe along the rip rap downstream from the dam, we fished the fastwater and eddies below the dam without results.

Ron Gugnacki fishes the mouth of Kayaderosseras Creek.

     Just downstream from Lock 12 on the north side of the river is a backset. When we paddled the canoe into it, we spooked a green heron and a couple of carp. We saw more carp, plus kingfisher, Canada geese, mergansers and mallards as we progressed down the river. We didn't see another boat until 11:45, and it was a cruiser.
    The westerly breeze provided relief from the rising temperature and pushed the canoe downstream. All I had to do was keep the bow of the canoe pointed towards the shoreline so Ron could cast. For almost two hours he bounced that jig near every structure we could find. Not a single hit.
    In addition to the willows, cottonwoods and boxelders that are common on much of the Mohawk, we discovered an increasing number of oak and locust along this stretch. Most of these species were evident near the mouth of Kayaderosseras Creek, where we stopped at 12:30 so I could see how long it took to walk from the river to the front steps of Fort Johnson.

Fort Johnson is a huge stone mansion (with gun ports) that serves as a museum and features the oldest outhouse in this part of the country, some majestic trees and well-tended flower gardens. In the mid 1700s it was the center of power in the Mohawk Valley. It was from here that (Sir) William Johnson ran his trading empire, planned military campaigns, conducted business with Indian nations, entertained dignitaries and was protected from the French who had a price on his head.

It took six minutes to walk from the Mohawk River to the front door of Fort Johnson.

I walked slowly along the edge of a cornfield and over railroad tracks, sprinted across Route 5 and ambled into the front yard of Fort Johnson. When I walked up the front steps, the door opened and a man who was airing out the building greeted me. I told him I had arrived by canoe and that it had taken me six minutes to walk from the river (a walk Sir William had no doubt made many times when he lived here so many years ago) The man at the door smiled, rolled his eyes and said, "Six minutes eh. That's good to know."
When I returned to the river, Ron was fishing in the creek, so I launched the canoe and paddled toward the mouth of the creek to pick him up. Easier said than done. As soon as I poked the canoe into the river, the wind grabbed the elevated bow and spun it around . . . and around. It must have looked quite comical: Old Grey Beard spinning around in a red canoe in the middle of the Mohawk River. Fortunately, no one saw me. I had to kneel in the bottom of the canoe and paddle hard and fast to gain control.

As we drifted out of the mouth of Kayaderosseras Creek, I told Ron to get ready to catch some fish, because we were only a few hundred yards from an island where George Locke and I had caught 50 bass over 13 inches in an hour and a half. Of course that was in October, and 20 years ago during the Mohawk's bass renaissance, but it seemed that a few bass should be hanging around that island even on a hot summer afternoon.

They checked our fishing licenses and posed for a picture.

     The island looked the same---wooded at each end, cattails in the middle, deep hole at the upper end. I pointed out all the places we had caught fish years ago. We tried jigs, spoons and plugs with absolutely no results.
    Within sight of Lock 11, a boat headed in our direction, so I angled toward shore. The boat cut us off and as it drew closer we could see "POLICE" printed across the front of the cabin. We held the canoe to the side of the boat while three New York State Environmental Conservation Officers checked our fishing licenses. They were friendly fellows and one of them even recognized my name from the New York Sportsman magazine. When I asked them to turn the boat so I could take a photo, one of them yelled. "Be glad too, but autographs will cost you."
    There is no canoe landing on the upstream side of Lock 11, so we beached the canoe just upriver from the lock compound fence. From there it was a short carry through head-high weeds, over the railroad tracks to where Ron parked his truck across from the old Bowlers Brewery building that is now the home of All Seasons Motor Sports.
    We were hot, tired and disappointed we didn't catch fish. But Ron's insistence that we make the trip to lift my spirits worked like a charm. He knows I can't help getting excited when I'm discovering doorsteps to history.

Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Fort Hunter, select New York, press GO!