Chapter 11- The River
Lansing Kill to North Western
Discovery: Windows to Natural and Human History
September 26, 2000, 54 degrees, Cloudy
Denny and I had tried to explore this section of
the Mohawk a week earlier, but torrential rains raised the water to dangerous
levels, and it was much too muddy to fish with lures. It was amazing what
a difference a week made. The water was clear and relatively easy to wade.
The early morning temperature was in the low 40's, so we lingered over
coffee at the Black River Bagel Shop at Ridge Mills until after 10 o'clock.
From there it was just a 10-mile drive up Route
46 to drop off Denny's car at Hillside and then drive the Jeep back to
the bridge outside the village of North Western. Our plan was to wade upstream
1.6 miles to the mouth of the Lansing Kill.
This is an area where two glacial streams came together
some 10,000 years ago; one carving out Boonville Gorge where the Lansing
Kill now flows and the other creating the Canyon where the Mohawk River
flows. The resulting erosion created cuts through layers of shale and through
deep gravel beds, and provided rich soils for thousands of acres
of farmland between Hillside and Rome. Although there are still productive
farms along this part of the river, much of the land has returned to forest
or lies beneath the waters of Delta Lake.
Just above the bridge at North Western are limestone ledges, pools, boulders,
deep runs, the mouth of a tributary and a classic "root" hole --- the most
productive looking water I've seen on any stream in the MohawkValley. And
to make it even more inviting, son Mark had taken some big fish from this
area the previous spring.
bar just below an outcrop of shale.
Well, we beat that water to a froth with Phoebes,
Rapalas, spinners and crayfish imitation lures without so much as a follow.
We, of course, had a number of excuses for not catching fish, including
the fact that this stretch of water is right next to the road and had been
fished heavily for months.
Wading upstream, we separated, leapfrogging sections
of the river, so we could both fish undisturbed water. My first fish was
a small brook trout that took a gold spoon from a short run of fast water
just downstream from a series of rock ledges and waterfalls.
Strange. The water on the right side of the river
was dirty. Clear on the left side. I crossed over to the clean water and
continued upstream. The river was easy to wade because the bottom was flat
rock; like walking on a sidewalk. Willows, scrub elm and poplar grew streamside.
At
11:15 I caught a 9 1/2-inch brown trout from a shallow run along a rock
ledge. Just upstream was a shale outcrop on the left and above that a tributary
on the right. The trib was the source of the dirty water. It was then that
I remembered the construction crew at the bridge along Route 46.
A rock and gravel bar at the mouth of the tributary
revealed dozens of deer tracks that led to deer trails into the maple flats
on the right side of the river. We didn't find any deer trails leading
to the shale banks on the left side.
While I walked upstream to take photographs of
a shale cliff, Denny fished a long deep run and caught a small brown trout.
The cliff had broken off in chunks, sheets and chips, and fallen to the
rock shelf beside the river. In one area, the rock shelf was littered with
beechnuts from a tree growing high above. Streamside dining for deer, turkey
and grouse.
Just upstream, the rock and cobble bottom was much
more difficult to wade, but provided better fish habitat. Above a small
island, a deep run with a boulder in the middle looked inviting.
At the lower end of the run a small brown followed my gold spoon. When
I cast the same lure past the big rock, a big brown, I guessed to be about
19 inches long, followed the lure almost to waters edge before turning
tail. Three times that big fish followed but wouldn't take my offering.
Changing lures also produced zippo.
Just inside the edge of the hardwoods on the left
side of the river, we discovered a relic of the past: a rusting metal-wheeled
hayloader. This entire area of the valley was once productive farmland.
Now like the hayloader it was overgrown with trees.
We arrived at the Ben Cady Bridge at 12:45. Just
downstream from the bridge on the left side, the riverbank was high and
covered with a mixture of hay and horse manure. Not an unpleasant smell,
but I didn't want to walk in it, so I hugged the shoreline and cast into
the big hole below the bridge. Denny fished the pool from the other side.
No hits. No follows.
Upstream the river bottom was flat rock. The leaves
of trees and vines were just starting to change color; mostly green but
some yellows and reds mixed in. Wild sunflowers and purple asters grew
streamside. As I followed the water-covered pavement, taking in the sights,
sounds and smells of nature's fall garden, I suddenly realized I was holding
my breath. Not sure I can explain why, but it happens from time to time
when I see something especially beautiful or interesting.
On some stretches of the Mohawk River wild sunflowers grew in abundance.
At 1:30 we stopped across from a cornfield to remove
our daypacks and enjoy a well-earned snack. We hadn't caught a fish in
an hour and a half. Still munching on cookies, we cast lures into a rock
and rubble run. I caught a small brown and Denny lost one.
This area, with its slippery rock and cobble bottom,
was much more difficult to wade, and we made the mistake of choosing the
right side of the river. The relatively easy access low banks soon became
high banks. These high banks were created back in the 1800s to separate
the river from the Black River Canal. Today this fill provides a long run
of deep water against a rocky shoreline. .
We tried to wade the river but it was too deep,
so we were forced to climb to the top of the bank and walk through second-growth
trees, looking for places to return to the river. We didn't find any. It
was frustrating not being able to fish what looked like excellent trout
water, but we were getting tired and welcomed the sight of the mouth of
the Lansing Kill.
It was 2:15 when we crossed the Kill and climbed
the bank at Hillside. We had taken only a handful of fish, but the sights,
sounds and smells of natural and human history made it well worth the effort.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type North Western, select New York, press GO!
Click on margin arrows to follow the path of the Mohawk River north to North Western and on to Hillside.
