Chapter 11- The River
Herkimer Home to Lock 16
Discovery: Heaven On Earth
July 27, 2001 50 degrees Sunny
When we launched the canoe at Herkimer Home Landing at 8:30 a.m., we
knew it was going to be a great day. Cool, sunny with a gentle breeze coming
out of the west. We didn't know it would be one of our best discovery trips
to date. 
The Mohawk River and the Canal are one in the same
for the first two miles of this section. At Five-Mile Dam the river veers
to the left, runs for 2.5 miles before it picks up the waters and sediments
from East Canada Creek, and then continues for another two miles to rejoin
the canal at the lower end of Lock 16.
The river-only section is wild country. There are
no public access sites. The nearest boat launch is at St. Johnsville, but
powerboats can't get too far upriver before bottoming out. Except for a
few farm roads through cornfields, and a trail or two known to local anglers,
the only way to get a canoe or car-top boat into this area is by carrying
it around Five-Mile Dam. The best way to reach the dam is from the boat
launch on the Barge (Erie) Canal at the mouth of Nowadaga Creek. It's a
mile east of the dam.
I had received permission to launch from Herkimer
Home Landing to continue discovering the entire river. This was originally
planned as a four-man, two-canoe trip but two explorers had to back out,
leaving Ron Gugnacki and me to go it alone.
Six Canada geese followed the path of the bald eagle that flew over our heads below Five-Mile Dam.
Ron and I have canoed rivers and streams all over
New York State, so we operate as a team, anticipating each other's moves
and moods. We conflict in only one area, how fast to move down the river.
I like to see what's around the next bend and Ron likes to fish every pool,
point, run and bay. We started this day with a compromise plan: move right
along on the river/canal and take lots of time on the river-only section.
That
didn't mean we wouldn't fish the first couple of miles. While I paddled
the canoe, Ron cast the shoreline with a black jig. He caught a couple
of small bass. On a whim, he put on a 3-inch black "Hawg Frawg", one of
his favorite topwater largemouth bass lures. With rod tip held high, Ron
swam that yellow-eyed critter across a small bay. A smallmouth bass ate
it. Before we reached Five-Mile Dam a half-dozen foot-long smallies fell
for that lure.
At 9 a.m. we passed a small pavilion at the edge
of a cornfield on the north side of the river. Just downstream a great
blue heron pumped skyward and disappeared in the trees. An unusually quiet
kingfisher flew across the river. In the distance crows exchanged greetings,
and a train rushed by off in the distance. .
As we moved along the north shore, Ron cast to rocks,
small bays and stream outlets, alternating between a plastic jig and the
frawg. While he caught a small bass on the jig and had a couple of other
hits, the frog was definitely the lure of choice.
half dozen others on a plastic frog.
We had seen carp swimming along the shoreline, so when the mirror-calm river splashed and rippled, we assumed it was carp. Half-right. As I pointed the canoe towards the commotion, a big snapping turtle and a carp swam in opposite directions. The carp moved down the shoreline. The turtle---head outstretched, prehistoric paddles pushing and pulling water---headed for the bottom of the river. Quite a sight. We wondered if the carp and turtle were eating at the same "table" or if the turtle had carp on its morning menu.
At 10:15 we paddled to the left side of Five-Mile Dam and very carefully exited the canoe on the riprapped, tree-lined riverbank. Not an easy takeout, but the best we could find. It took 10 minutes to carry the canoe and gear up the bank, around the end of the dam and down to the river where we launched from a muddy beach under the overhanging branches of a big willow.
We made a few unproductive casts below the dam, and then drifted in the current . . . into wild country. As if to emphasize the point, a mature bald eagle---that's right, a bald eagle--- flew high over our heads. There was no mistaking the eagle's distinctive white head and tail. We would play tag with that magnificent bird the rest of the day.
After the eagle had passed out of sight, six Canada geese followed its path, veering slightly to avoid passing right over the canoe.
Soon
after we were out of sight of the dam, a 2 1/2-pound smallmouth ate Ron's
frog. Five minutes after that fish was photographed and released to fight
again, we caught up to the six geese and flushed a big flock of mallards.
And if that wasn't enough, as we approached a long run dotted with giant
boulders, a great blue heron and the bald eagle flew downriver. While I
stared in awe of the eagle silhouetted against the deep blue sky, a dragonfly
hitched a ride on my hand.
The Mohawk River doesn't get any prettier than this.
At 11:30 we stopped on a shaded, rocky outcrop for lunch. Giant
chunks of limestone with small potholes on the top, provided comfortable
seats under the overhanging branches of boxelder. The potholes were just
the right size to hold our drinks. While Ron ate his sandwich, he walked
along the shoreline, noting the abundance of snails on the rocks, and tiny
bass in the shallows. Their almost translucent bodies and black tails gave
them away.
As I sat in the shade, finishing lunch, jotting
in my notebook and reflecting on the beautiful day and events of the morning,
I interrupted Ron's shoreline exploration by exclaiming, "This is my idea
of heaven."
And it wasn't over.
We were back on the river at 12 o'clock. As we drifted
downstream over waving patches of grass, I asked Ron why he wasn't fishing.
He said, "There are no fish here." Moments later he cast the plastic frog
into a small patch of slack water. A 3 1/2-pound smallmouth took it as
soon as it hit the water and headed downstream, upstream and cross-stream.
Ron had to land the fish himself because I couldn't stop laughing. No fish,
indeed.
We stopped at the mouth of East Canada Creek where
I pointed out the high ground on the south side of the river where there
was a Mohawk village and an English Fort in the mid 1700s, and where Chief,
King Hendrick had an apple orchard. Most of this historic site was inundated
by the construction of the New York State Thruway in the 1950s.
Just downstream we paddled into a long backset to
the mouth of Crum Creek where dozens of carp were finning on the surface.
I told Ron about the ridge further up where there was a seasonal Mohawk
fishing village in the 1500s.
When
Ron caught another big smallmouth, I put my spinners and plugs away and
tied on one of his Hawg Frawgs. Five minutes later I had a 2 3/4- pound
bass jumping at the end of my line. For the next hour we swam those frogs
over slack water just downstream from fast runs. In addition to a number
of explosive misses, we caught a half dozen more bass over two pounds.
In one small bay, five bass followed Ron's lure almost to the canoe.
The bass stopped hitting when we lost the 3-inch
black frogs on snags. We tried different colors and a larger size but the
bass would have none of them. Fortunately, we were almost at the end of
the trip and approaching water that is fished quite heavily.
Before we finished this exceptional discovery trip
we saw the bald eagle one more time. It was a spectacular sight watching
this big white-headed bird: dark wings pumping, white tail rocking back
and forth, gliding, turning, soaring, criss-crossing the river; shoreline
trees, blue sky and puffy clouds in the background.
At 2 p.m. we landed the canoe on the north side of Lock 16 and carried it and our gear up the trail and over the top of the lock dam to Ron's truck.
Despite my best efforts to take lots of time on the wild section of the Mohawk, Ron complained that we should have taken more time. For the first time in some 25 years of canoeing and fishing together, I had to agree.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk
Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Little Falls, select New York, press
GO!
Use
margin arrows to follow the Mohawk River east to Five Mile
Dam, and on to East Canada Creek and Lock 16.
