MOHAWK - Discovering the Valley of the Crystals Copyright 2003
Chapter 12 - Tributuaries
Oriskany Creek Part Two - Walesville upstream to Clark Mills
Not a Wasted Day
Nov 1, 2000, 43 degrees, predict 50, Sunny
After the canoeing adventure from Walesville to the mouth of Oriskany Creek, and the best stream trout fishing of my life between Clark Mills and Kirkland, I wasn't expecting much from this discovery trip.
According to the topo map, it was two miles from Walesville to Clark
Mills. Most of this section of Oriskany Creek is much too shallow to canoe,
so I would have to hoof it either in the creek or along the bank. Rather
than cover the entire section in one trip, I decided to fish upstream from
Walesville for about a mile and hike back, and then return at a later
date to hike downstream from Clark Mills and fish back.
I parked the Jeep in the Walesville Memorial Park
at 9:45 a.m. and waded into the creek. Walesville was once a thriving creek-side
community where locals worked in a paper mill and revelers came to partake
at the hotel. Today there are homes on each side of the creek near the
bridge, but no industry or hotel.
There were no takers in the pool near the bridge,
but at an upstream bend I discovered a fish with an attitude. When I dropped
a gold spoon into the upper end of a long pool, a foot-long brown trout
hit . . .missed . . . and then followed the lure across the pool and took
it at my feet. Ten minutes later, right in front of a red building, a wide-bodied
trout followed the lure across a pool, hit hard but didn't hook up. Perhaps
this wasn't going to be a wasted day after all.
The creek bottom was mostly rock with some gravel. Streamside vegetation consisted of scrub elm, boxelder, willow and alder. Joe Pye weed and milkweed---that had gone to seed---grew on a long island. The fast water on each side of the island wasn't deep enough to hold fish. Ditto the long stretch of flatwater above the island.
I didn't find any deep water until I got to the Peckville Road Bridge at 11 o'clock. The water under the bridge was too deep to wade, so I had to climb up and over. The upper end of the bridge pool produced a 10-inch brown.
Upstream, the creek ran shallow over rocks, so I turned my attention streamside. There were more hardwoods in this area. From the left bank I saw a grey and white cat chasing a red squirrel through a stand of maple and beech on the opposite side of the creek. The squirrel escaped by climbing a tree and jumping from limb to limb. Denied lunch, the cat returned to the prowl. It never saw me.
Just upstream, a long run next to an eroded gravel bank looked good but produced nothing. Around the next bend, streamside vegetation changed again. There were more evergreens, hawthorn and one huge willow. I wondered how much history that old willow had witnessed in its lifetime.
I followed a deer trail along the bank. Other deer trails---fresh with tracks--- intersected the streamside trail. When I discovered a posted sign, the first I'd seen that morning, I crossed the creek. The noon whistle from Clark Mills went straight to my stomach, so I sat on a log and ate lunch. Stomach satisfied, I jotted a few lines in a notebook.
"Not a wasted day. Beautiful! Sun reflecting off water like diamonds. Water rushing to the Mohawk. Alive and well!"
At 12:30 I came to a big sycamore. The time was right
and the old monarch was a good landmark, so I headed back. I walked the
bank on the east side of the creek to Peckville Bridge, then took Westmoreland
Road into Walesville. Along the way, I discovered some big hemlocks,
flushed a huge hawk, and saw a pair of grey squirrels gathering black walnuts
from beneath a good size tree. The ground was littered with nuts and the
squirrels were so busy they didn't miss a beat as I walked by.
I was back in Walesville at 1:15, having explored another
section of Oriskany Creek. It didn't compare to the downstream canoeing
adventure or the upstream fishing bonanza, but it was definitely not a
wasted day.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk
Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Walesville , select New York, press GO!
Exploring and discovering are much more fun than writing. So much fun
in fact that I don't write about some discovery trips until months and
years go by. My memory isn't quite what it used to be, so I rely on notes
and photographs to bring back the sights, sounds and events of the day.
For the most part, this assisted recall works just fine, however, a recent
report on exploring Oriskany Creek from Walesville to Clark Mills was in
error. Fact is, because I didn't take many photographs and didn't read
all of my notes, I goofed big time.
I did not explore this 2-mile section on one trip
as previously indicated. On November 1, 2000 I started at Walesville, fished
upstream for about a mile and hiked back. Then on November 6, I started
at Clark Mills, hiked downstream for a mile or so and fished back..
Here's the rest of the story.
The Rest of the Story
November 6, 2000, 45 degrees, Not a cloud in the sky.
I parked the Jeep near the Clark Mills Water treatment
plant at 11 o'clock. Abandoned railroad crossings---the New York Central
and the Ontario and Western--- attested to the industry that once thrived
here. A heavily-traveled trail ran down the east side of the creek. Several
cross-trails led to the water. Empty worm containers pointed the way to
favorite fishing holes.
Sprawling willows grew streamside, making it difficult
to walk the bank, so I cut cross-lots, discovering a giant sycamore growing
in the middle of a plowed field. I was elated that the resident farmer
appreciated the majesty of a monarch.
By hiking through fields and along hardwood ridges--beech,
maple and a few cherry---I arrived at the sycamore where I had left
off the week before. When I crossed the creek to explore the lower reaches
of a shallow tributary, the noon whistle echoed down the creek.
I was delighted to discover a monarch
sycamore in the middle of a plowed field.
This section of Oriskany Creek has been cut, filled
and otherwise altered by man for a couple hundred years. There are piles
of riprap rocks, hard-fill dumps, bridge abutments, fallen trees and other
obstructions that create deep pools and runs . . . and provide superb trout
habitat.
My first cast dropped a gold Phoebe into a deep
run next to a pile of rocks and concrete slabs. A trout followed and hit
the lure, but didn't connect. A second cast produced the same results.
Further upstream, a hard-fill dump at a bend in the creek had created deep
pools and runs, upstream and down. Again, trout followed the lure, but
didn't take it.
The trout weren't hungry, but I was, so I found
a comfortable log and pulled a snack from my pack. My wife, Gert had handed
me a bag of fresh-baked chocolate chip muffins when I left home. Washed
down with a bottle of skim milk, they were delicious.
Hunger satisfied, I closed my eyes, took a deep
breath and listened. The air was brisk and clean. I could hear the rustle
of dry grass, and the rushing and gurgling of the creek. I could feel the
warmth of the sun on my face. I thought about the worst day of my life.
Exactly 13 years ago (now 16) my wife, Janice's brain hemorrhaged, causing
her death three weeks later. I waited for the wave of emotion to
subside and continued upstream.
Arthur Hind built this clubhouse in the early 1900s for his textile
mill employees.
Today it's the home of the American Legion in Clark Mills.
A great blue heron was fishing the shallow water
in an oxbow. Great grey wings lifted its spindly body skyward and disappeared
among the trees. Further upstream, a fat grey squirrel scurried through
a leafless tree that was decorated with a "paper mache" hornet's nest.
I finally caught a fish---a 9-inch brown trout---at
1 o'clock. Church bells heralded the event. Really.
Where not adjusted by man, this area of the creek
flows over rock, cobble, gravel and mud, and at least one section of
ledge-rock. Just below a natural riffle where a fallen tree had created
a deep run and a pool, a trout chased my lure. Fifteen minutes later I
repeated this unique form of "catch and release" at the huge pool
below the old O & W Railroad pier.
After passing the green outflow pipe of the water
treatment plant, and climbing up and over the old NY Central Railroad bed
(the bridge is barricaded) I followed a berm to the back of the American
Legion building in Clark Mills. Years ago this streamside landmark was
the Arthur Hind Club. Hind built the brick clubhouse in 1913 for his textile
mill employees.
I couldn't resist fishing below the bridge in the
village, and true to form watched trout follow my lure. Mildly frustrated,
I walked back to the Jeep, completing the second half of the Walesville-Clark
Mills section of Oriskany Creek at 2:15 on November 6, 2000.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk
Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type Clark Mills , select New York, press GO!
