Chapter 12 - Tributuaries

Steele Creek & Ilion Gorge.
In 1730 when Rudolph Stahl (Steele) purchased land on both sides of  the creek that flowed north through a steep-sided gorge to meet the Mohawk River,  it was brook trout water. Some of those brookies grew big in the millpond that Steele built to store  water for his gristmill and sawmill.
    After the Revolutionary War when the forest was cleared from the fields in this section of the Town of  German Flatts and planted to wheat and rye, top soil poured into the creek and sediment covered brook trout spawning beds. By 1828 when  Eliphalet Remington II moved his gun barrel forge down from The Gorge to be closer to the Erie Canal, Steele's Creek  carried the outflow from mills that cut wood, ground grain, made plaster, dyed wool and  processed oil. In all but the upper reaches, trout were non-existent. By 1844 when the village's name was changed from Remington Corners to Ilion, the only fish caught in this area were the bullheads and "chubs" that inhabited ponds, the Erie Canal and Mohawk River.
    Today Steele Creek is one of the best and most accessible trout streams in the area, and the only naturally productive rainbow trout stream in the Mohawk Valley.
 

Route 51 follows Steele Creek
through Ilion Gorge.

Discovery: A Rocky Mountain Stream
I parked my Jeep at the lower end of  Ilion Gorge at 9:45 a.m. on Monday, August 21, 2000.  It was sunny and 50 degrees. A quick look at the creek revealed crystal-clear water running over gray-green shale. A shale outcrop on the left was topped with a forest of  hemlock, maple, box elder and scrub elm. Only a thin line of trees separated the stream from the road that ran along the right side of the stream.
    This parking area was one of many along State Route 51 that follows the creek for most of its 9-mile length. At the upper end of the parking area was a pile of junk that included a an assortment of  bottles, cans and pieces of wood and plastic. There  was no trash in the water or roadside. Strange?
    I caught my first trout, a tiny rainbow, 10 minutes after pulling on my hip boots. It took a gold spoon run through fast water. Most of the creek is fast water, tumbling over chunks of shale, glacial boulders and a variety of road construction materials. These natural and man-made obstructions, plus some slate outcrops, create a great number of small pools and runs. Even in the mid-day sun this gorge-bottom, tree-lined creek is shaded, providing cool, clear, oxygen-rich water where trout can feed and hide from predators.
    This, however, is not big trout water. More like a mountain stream where small trout flourish, and only occasional deep holes or runs produce big fish.
    While most of the creekbed was rock, here and there patches of sand revealed deer tracks.  Some stretches of  the creekbed were smooth, flat rock, tan in color. It was not slippery. In most streams this time of year, algae covers every underwater rock.. I attributed the lack of algae in Steele Creek to the cold and shaded water.
    It wasn't until 10:30 that I took another fish. A shale slide had deposited hemlock and birch trees in the creek. The beautifully colored fish was lying in the fast water at the edge of the trees.
    Ten minutes later, I approached an "awesome" pool at a bend in the stream and right next to the road. This had apparently been a  chronic washout area, because the riprap here was very unusual. Fifty steel drums, stacked in two rows, lined the stream bank. They were imbedded in concrete, and a few rusted-out drum caps revealed they were also filled with concrete. This had to be the home of at least one granddaddy trout. I worked, spoons, spinners and plugs through this pool and used every trick in my book, without  success.
    Upstream,  two smaller pools also looked good, but I messed them up by snagging lures in overhanging branches. This was definitely not an easy stream to fish. For the next quarter mile or so, the creek ran over  steep, shallow rapids and riffles. Patches of  purple-flowering raspberries grew on the steep-sided streambank.
    It was 11:20 when I noticed the sun had reached down into the gorge, providing spotlighted stretches of water. A big chunk of the bank between the road and the creek  had fallen into the water. Just beyond,  I could see a roadside guardrail and upstream a small waterfalls. A good pool in this area produced another snag. Not my day.
    Just upstream was the  Fishermen's Parking Area dedicated to local conservationist, Dave Cave. I stopped there to eat a snack from my daypack. Another pile of  junk, which included a crib mattress and used diapers, put a damper on my hunger, so I  waded upstream in search of a more pristine spot. Again there was very little trash in the creek.
    This stretch featured  some deep runs of fast water and some long pools. One long run, under a canopy of branches, snagged my lure and it took me 10 minutes to cross the stream and pull it loose. One conciliation, there were a number of  fishing lines hanging from those branches.
Sitting atop a flat rock, surrounded by woods and water, I munched on cookies and drank milk. Except for the occasional passing car or truck, I could have been on a remote mountain stream. So far the fishing hadn't been that good, but part of the blame was my inability to cast under overhanging branches.
    Before calling it quits and heading back to the car, I enticed  two 8-inch rainbows from fast water near an island of rocks and logs. They jumped clear of the water just like their bigger cousins. Unlike the tiny spotted fish I'd caught earlier, these fish were full- colored.
    At noon, my stomach announced it needed more than milk and cookies, so I climbed up to the road and headed back to the car. With road and creek running side by side at the bottom of  Ilion Gorge, there is little room for shoulders, so walking along the road can be hazardous to your health in most areas. Fortunately, traffic was light.
    Except for an occasional car or truck, the walk was quite pleasant. The sounds of  rushing water filled the air. Chicory, phlox and wild sunflowers grew roadside. Sumac was just starting to change from green to red. Walls of  crumbling shale denoted the age of the gorge. It was 12:25 when I  got back to my Jeep. I had walked .7 miles of Route 51.
    On the way home I decided that Steele Creek would be my ace-in-the-hole, when  time or weather didn't allow a full day of exploring or I couldn't get someone to go with me on a canoe or backwoods trip. Most of the creek is next to the road and with so many parking areas it's easy to plan a short or a long outing.