Chapter 11- The River
Little Falls No Man's Land
Mohawk River in Downtown Little Falls - Part One
Discovery: Exploring No Man's
Land the Hard Way
The
Mohawk Valley, as we know it today, was created at Little Falls. That in
of itself makes The Falls unique, but when I explored the stretch of river
that is---for most practical purposes---no man's land, it seemed even more
amazing.
During his 20 years of service in the U.S. Army,
Dale Janes explored rivers and lakes on three continents and several states.
Of course he carried a fishing rod on most of those trips, just as he did
when he explored Steele Creek near his boyhood home in Ilion.When he told
me he had fished the Mohawk in Little Falls, I asked him to join me on
a discovery trip.
This series of dams, falls and rapids on the Mohawk River is for
most practical purpoises No Man's Land.
July 9, 2001 83 degrees Sunny
We
met at the parking lot at Canal Place in Little Falls and walked down to
the Ann St. Bridge. Dale pointed out an access to the river at the upper
end of the two limestone buildings on the north side, but explained that
it was impossible to wade upstream from this point because the remnants
of a stone dam blocked the way. He had found a path leading to the river
above the dam through a patch of woods near the west end of Mill Street.
We parked our cars near this path and were on the river by 5 p.m.
The Mohawk River in this area is so rich in geologic
and human history it's almost impossible to describe . . . but I'll try.
A mile-long stretch of river sits
at the bottom of a mile-wide, 400-foot deep gorge that was cut through
a mountain range by the force of waters from a glacial lake. For thousands
of years the outlet of this glacial lake ran over a waterfalls that receded
in height from some 500 feet to a mere 40 feet. What remained after 10,000
years of erosion was a mile-long series of rapids and small waterfalls
that blocked boat traffic on the Mohawk River and became known as the Little
Falls.
For hundreds of years canoes and other watercraft
were dragged, carried or carted around the falls. In the late 1700s a canal
and series of locks were constructed on the north side of the river to
bypass the falls. By 1825 a series of locks on the Erie Canal ran along
the south side of the river and a spur canal ran over an aqueduct into
the village on the north side of the river. All of this was bypassed by
the1915 Barge (Erie) Canal and its 40.5-foot lift lock.
Mills were constructed on both sides of the river.
Because the force of the water was so powerful, especially during spring
runoffs, most of these mills were built on natural raceways on the side
of islands or by constructing dams on the river with raceways running parallel
to the river.
What remains today is a historical collage ranging from eroded and potholed
outcrops and boulders of granite and dolostone, to the remnants of a 19th
century canal aqueduct, to old and new stone and concrete dams, walls and
culverts, to abandoned tenement buildings sitting on solid rock, to old
stone mills and metal-sided modern factories, to an abandoned iron bridge
and three 20th Century steel and concrete bridges.
Dale explained that wading the river was not easy
because of the huge rocks, deep holes and runs, fast water . . . and algae
that covered every underwater rock. Nevertheless, it was worth the effort
because the river was loaded with smallmouth bass. Although he had never
caught a large bass from this area, he had caught dozens of small bass
on spinners and other lures. A friend who fishes live crayfish has taken
lunkers from some of the deeper holes.
I had a pair of old wading shoes with felt soles
that were made to go over neoprene waders. It was too hot for waders, so
I put on two pair of socks and wore the shoes sans waders. Dale wore a
pair of hip boots with lug soles. For two hours he was slipping and sliding
all over the place while I enjoyed relatively solid footing. Never have
figured out why felt doesn't slip on algae.
Are these iron spikes the remains of an old wood or stone dam?
Dale caught the first smallmouth a 7-incher on a gold spinner. It was
5:10. Wading west into the evening sun was tough. It was almost impossible
to see the underwater potholes that ranged from 1-3 feet deep. Quite a
surprise when you think you're crossing an outcrop of flat rock.
Rocks, rocks, everywhere rocks. Big rocks, small
rocks, square rocks, round rocks, pockmarked rocks, potholed rocks and
sculptured rocks. Above water rocks and below water rocks. Much of the
area looks like it was created by a huge explosion that blew a mountain
apart and dropped the pieces in the river.
It seemed that behind every rock
just downstream from a fast run was a smallmouth bass. As Dale had predicted
none of them were big fish, but they fought hard in the current on light
spinning tackle. In two hours we caught and released 9-10 fish each and
not one was over nine inches.
We waded along the north shore, sometimes finding
a path on and over the rocks to the center of the river. We waded past
the old powerhouse and under the bridge on the north side of the island
before reaching the bottom of the upper dam at 7 p.m.
We weren't alone. Ducks, mostly mallards, were in
almost every patch of still water. When disturbed a few flew overhead,
but most just drifted downstream or swam upstream. Overhead more than a
dozen turkey vultures soared in the updrafts near the top of the gorge.
All of this in downtown Little Falls.
The wall near the bottom of the dam was too high
to climb so we backtracked to a spot where a rock, a drainpipe and a fence
provided the footing and handholds we needed to get to the top of the wall.
When we parted that evening, we decided to return in a week or so to wade
the other side of the river.
July 17, 2001 77 degrees Sunny
It was almost 5 p.m. when we drove over the Ann St. Bridge, parked under
the Route 67 bridge and climbed down the bank to fish the south side of
the river. Dale had left his boots at home and was wearing sneakers. They
were much cooler to wade in but not much better for walking on algae-covered
rocks. To compensate for the lack of traction, Dale carried a wading staff.
It didn't help much.
Sneakers and a wading staff were no match for algae covered rocks.
While Dale fished the pools and runs under the bridge
and below the old powerhouse dam, I waded upstream to photograph the area
and to fish the pools and runs among the rocks. If possible this side of
the river was more difficult to wade than the north side. The rocks were
bigger and the holes and runs deeper. With the sun shining in my face,
I came very close to going in over my head in a couple of places.
It was worth the effort and the danger, because
I caught several bass and took several photographs in 45 minutes. The bass
really liked my gold-bladed Panther Martin spinner with orange hair on
the hook.
When I looked downstream to take photographs and check on Dale's progress,
I could see he was slipping and sliding where I had walked with ease. I
missed a photograph that could have told an interesting story. Dale was
wading in knee high water, surrounded by rocks, with some 20 turkey vultures
circling high overhead. I'm sure it was just a coincidence, but all those
vultures had to feed on something. Before I could get the cameras out of
my pack the vultures moved away from the river.
This 10-incher fell for a gold spinner and chucked up a crayfish.
I
sympathized with Dale's predicament, but continued upstream in search of
photo opportunities and bass havens. I found plenty of both. The rock outcrops,
boulders and potholes were fascinating. One outcrop was punctured with
rows of large iron spikes, all bent downstream. Could they be what remains
of an old wooden or stone dam?
It was my night for catching bass. By casting the
spinner into fast water and letting it drift by large rocks, I caught 21
smallmouths and a rockbass in two hours. The biggest fish was a mere 10
inches, but I had a ball catching and releasing bass.
We called it quits when we reached the upper dam.
At 7:15 when we called it quits and headed for the
bank at the bottom of the upper dam on the south side of the island. Dale
noted how quickly I waded up the river, catching most of the bass before
he could get to them. Of course I denied fishing all the best runs and
pools and attributed my success to secret lures and superior skills.
Half way across a narrow run of fast water, I slipped and fell
in the river. As I struggled to shore, I swear I heard a stifled laugh.
Mohawk River in Downtown Little Falls - Part Two
Discovery: Exploring No-Man's Land the Easy Way
July 13, 2001 60 degrees, Partly Cloudy
Downstream
from the Ann St. Bridge the river is backed up by the lower dam and is
too deep to wade. The shoreline on both sides is steep-sided and covered
with rocks; some natural but most deposited by man to stabilize the riverbank.
There was only one way to explore this quarter-mile stretch of the Mohawk
Before launching Willow I cast to the waters below the old stone dam and powerhouse.
It was 10:30 a.m. when I carried Willow and my gear down the
steep bank at the west end of the old stone building that now houses the
Antique Center and West Mill Shops. This put me and my 10-foot canoe a
hundred yards upstream from the Ann St. Bridge. After taking a few photographs
and casting to the waters below the old stone dam, I pushed off the rocky
outcrop, paddled over to the deep run behind a small island and drifted
downstream, past two abandoned tenement houses that were sitting atop solid
rock and stone slab foundations. Along the way
I caught two smallmouth bass on a gold spinner.
Ducks swam ahead of the canoe as I passed under the Ann Street Bridge and
past the crumbling remains of a stone arch that once supported the
aqueduct that carried the waters of the 1820s Erie Canal into the village.
Part of the arch is now a pile of stones in the middle of the river, but
the south half leans precariously over the water, defying gravity and the
ravages of the river.
Across from the leaning arch and beneath riverside
buildings are the outlets of stone-arch culverts that date back to
the 19th century. Just downstream is a new concrete culvert from which
pours the waters of a creek that flows under the city. A couple of casts
to this likely fish haven produced nothing.
tall atop solid rock and stone foundations.
Buildings on the north side of the river house a lumber yard and parts of the Burrows paper mills. The riverbank in this area is rip-rapped with rocks encased in steel mesh. The riverbank on the south side is held together by a conglomerate of rock outcrop, quarry rock, chunks of concrete and macadam, and willow and cottonwood trees.
The remains of a stone arch that once supported a spur of the Erie Canal defies gravity and the river.
I beached the canoe just downstream from this old iron bridge. .
.
I didn't realize I was herding a flock of ducks towards the dam and waterfalls until they started jumping off the water and flying in every direction, soon after I passed under an old iron bridge.
It was difficult to see the edge of the falls from above. There was no roar or telltale mist during this low water period. I eased the canoe to the south side of the river and moved slowly toward the falls, looking for a convenient place to beach the canoe, not knowing what to expect regarding stream flow. The falls is only about 5-6 feet high, but going over in a canoe would not be a pleasant experience. My concern was for naught, because a buildup of silt provided an ideal landing well above the falls.
When I started to climb the rocks leading up the riverbank to the wing-wall overlooking the dam and falls, I was surprised to see a procession of ducks scurrying, single file just ahead. Apparently they were molting or too young to fly. I waited patiently until they reached the top of the bank and disappeared into the brush.
While
I was photographing the falls from the top of the wall, I saw three young
mallards trying to swim across the top of the falls. Miraculously, two
of them made it. The other went over the falls, disappeared in the foam
at the bottom and then popped up in the river below, apparently no worse
for wear . . . but a long way from home.
This lower dam was built into a natural waterfalls. It looks like a notch was cut into the rock outcrop and the forms for the concrete dam set into it. Large sections of rock appear to be attached to the front of the dam.
I had returned to the canoe and was preparing
to paddle upstream when a DEC fishing shocking boat pulled up to the bottom
of the falls. This is an ideal place for Fisheries Biologists to take Mohawk
River and Barge Canal fish to study their health and numbers. The affect
of the shock immobilizes fish for only a few seconds, so they can be netted.
Most of the fish are returned to the water within minutes of their capture.
When I joined the crew of this same boat a few years ago, I discovered
that the most difficult part of the task was netting the fish before they
recovered.
Except for the fast water near the aqueduct ruins,
it was an easy paddle back to the Ann St. Bridge. Bikers, crossing the
bridge, stopped long enough to take pictures of the guy in the little canoe,
so I stopped and took pictures of them.
I also stopped at the lower end of the little island
to walk the canoe around the fast water and catch a couple more fish. At
12:30 I stepped out of the canoe onto the rock ledge. It had taken just
two hours to explore the rest of no-man's land . . . the easy way
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk
Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Little Falls, select New York, press
GO!
